MISCHA WAS LOST in a sea of white light. She couldn't very well sleep, even if she'd wanted to, given the room's brightness and the cool temperatures, which had given her a permanent chill. Or maybe the slight tremble in her body was because of her jangled nerves, a simmering fear that shot up to a full-scale boil whenever she let her imagination get the best of her.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmNJlHfBWzB
Time had passed, but she didn't know how much. There was no clock in this time-warp of a room, nor were there any windows or any sense of the outside world. The typical indicators of time---the movement of the sun, meals, human interaction----were all denied her. She had only internal barometers, hunger and drowsiness, neither of which were reliable in her current state.
She didn't know if it was day one or day two now, if it was midnight or noon. Her best estimate was that she'd been this wooden chair for approximately eighteen hours, but she wouldn't have bet a nickel on that guess.
Nor was she having a great day from a physical perspective. A rather consistent pain shot from her ass up her spine to her neck. Her arms had grown numb. Her neck was sore from the rolling side-to-side motion of her head along the back of the chair.
Make the suspect uncomfortable. Put her off balance. Yeah, she got the idea. Their tactics were predictable, even primitive. But they were working, regardless.
They had fingerprinted Mischa, swabbed the inside of her mouth, drawn her blood, and run tests on her hands and forearms. Otherwise, she'd been left alone. More alone than she'd wanted, in fact. She'd called out regularly in the beginning---requesting water, the bathroom, her cigarettes, a moment to stretch her limbs---and soon realized that she would settle for angry confrontation. Some interaction. More information. Anything! She was left alone with this puzzle, of which she had only two pieces: Diego and Renaud had been killed, and the murder weapon had been found in her purse.
Or so they'd said. She didn't know what the hell to think. Either they were lying to her or someone had put a gun in her purse. Either way, this was a mistake. It had to be.
"Hello!" Mischa called out, recognizing the incongruity of her actions: refusing to talk but wanting someone to visit; recognizing that she should have a lawyer present but wanting to talk to Picard and LaForge anyway, wanting to know what other information they had, why they thought she was a suspect, what the other ladies had told them.
It was a ploy, this silent treatment. They had shown her a damning piece of evidence and then had left her alone for about twelve hours, enough time to let her imagination interact with her fear and concoct all kinds of heart-stopping, worst-case scenarios. A traditional tactic, maybe, but traditional for a reason---it was effective.
The door opened. Picard and LaForge again. The baldy and the man with the eyepatch.
"Please.....water," she said. "A----A bath...."
"Wouldn't you rather have a----cigarette?" said LaForge. He reached into the right-hand side pocket of his blazer and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Parliaments. Her Parliaments! He then pulled a cigarette out of (her) pack, poked one into his mouth and lit it up with (her) Bic. Mischa was right; they had taken her things. And this bastard was taunting her with them. "And a meal. And a bathroom. And a phone call. Like your friends have had," he said.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVLo8g5ESkt
"What---about my friends?" Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue was sticking to the roof.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6vhCHH2M6h
"They are bathed and fed," he answered. "Now they are sleeping on beds. Because they told us. Mademoiselle Barton, you have little time left. We know what happened but we do not know why. Very soon, we sill have no need for a statement from you."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9TOD5Iebik
"What did---they say?"489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzV91Vbv2XO
"Your friend Rihanna? Rihanna says that it was you. You fired the gun and it was your idea."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzFuYMicLgb
"It was my idea to kill Diego and Renaud? That's bullshit. She wouldn't say that."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvCWno5f4o
LaForge shrugged his shoulders.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQCoWFyc288
"Now why would it be me? I wasn't with Diego or Renaud. I was probably the only one who wasn't, frankly."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡufYOzKkCIo
Stop it, Mischa. This is what they want. They want us to turn on each other.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3tEdkZERyu
"Then maybe," LaForge offered, "this is why they are all saying it was you. Because you were separated from them last night."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzySTqWRzSI
"They can blame you," Picard added, "without blaming themselves."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd6cmWDWjb9
LaForge said, "If it is of consolation to you, your friends Nicole Richie and Lindsay were---reticent. Reluctant? Yes, reluctant---they were reluctant to say it was you."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQxyOIhLYGi
"You who have no alibi," Picard.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhDaBIJWaei
"You, whose purse contained the gun." LaForge.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRMcB7p86e3
"Now is the time, Mischa." LaForge moved in closer.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiK5YLsUF3X
Mischa shook her head. No. No. This couldn't be. This couldn't be right. Her friends wouldn't have done that. This couldn't be happening.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCcW60q2A2L
She took a breath and made a decision. Once the words came out, they couldn't be put back in.489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuBrKmdU0ED
"Benito McLaughlin," she said. "Benito is my alibi."489Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJrZOA50328
