Her lips are full and face is soft and round. Her figure isn’t very impressive, rather nothing is. The answers she gives are simple and her expressions show genuine empathy. Detective Ritz, my partner, shows pictures of victims and questions persistently. Ritz can be intimidating to most with his buzzed head and large frame, but this woman calmly answers. I can see his agitation, a vein streaming from his temple. His questions get more difficult but she is unwavering.
“What do you think D?”
“I think Ritz is a few moments away from choking her in that metal seat.”
“No, about her.”
“She’s our killer no doubt, but it’s out of our league by a long shot. She isn’t just our killer, this woman has been doing this for years.”
My other partner Gin looks at me questioning.
Ritz cracks the door open interrupting whatever she was about to ask me.
“D, she’s all yours. I’m only a few seconds from choking this weird bitch”
Mentally I sigh, this was bound to happen from the beginning. Detective work is more than just investigating or tracking down people. Interrogations to prove them guilty is dirty work. You’re sitting a few inches away from the filth. The stench of blood oozes off of them. I’ve seen detectives run out and dump their guts all over the floor, which is why we have a trash can right outside the door now. In that white room, the rest of the world disappears. It’s just you and filth, and it would be all too easy to erase that filth forever. Hands cuffed to the table, nothing holding you back. I’ve seen detectives cross that line and have to be pulled out by others. Interrogation is where the weak detectives get crushed by the will of criminals. I am the best at doing the crushing.
I let out an audible sigh and gently placed a hand on Ritz's shoulder.
“I got it from here.”
I step past him and grasp the door knob of the all white room. For a moment I just cleanse my mind, cleanse my thoughts. Usually when I enter, I try to look towards my seat and avoid any glimpse. This time It’s not low enough and I see her. For a moment that facade of a personality she had for Ritz was purged. Her eyes were low and brows relaxed. Her plump lips thinned into a straight face. By the time I sat and looked again it was back.
“Where did Ritz go? Our conversation was getting interesting.” She said with a soft cute voice.
I don’t respond. Instead I grabbed the files he left and gathered them back into the brown folder.
“Liora Vale.” I start.
”That’s me.”
“Ritz went over why we have brought you in, yes?”
“He did and it’s terrible sir. Those poor people, I didn’t even know this area was that dangerous.”
I observe how she speaks. It sounds so empathetic and genuine.
”When did you move here L-i-o-r-a,” I intentionally drag the name out.
“It was maybe a year ago or two. Wait, it’s actually been two years.” She smirks a bit after.
“And how old are you?” I probe further.
“Asking a woman her age” she blushes immaturely. “How bold are you? I turn 37 this year.”
Lie. On file she is listed at 37 but she can’t be a year younger than at least 50. From the other side of the window you wouldn’t be able to tell but right here face to face. I can see the hidden lines from makeup caked on her face. The wrinkles on her fingers and an outfit that seems out of touch with youth.
“37 with no kids hmm- and a sudden move wi-“ She cuts me off before I can finish.
“Who said I don’t have kids?”
”You don’t have kids. I can see in your eyes that you don’t have the tenderness it would take to nurture one” I intentionally bait at her.
She chuckles softly not losing a beat
“All woman just aren’t bless with the ability to give life detective.” She says a touch of melancholy.
“All woman aren’t blessed with the ability to take it either L-i-o-r-a” I drag the name out again.
I notice a slight shift in her expression, for only a split moment, but it was there.
“I haven’t taken anyone’s life detective. I couldn’t even fathom sleeping at night knowing the blood was stained on my hands. Those pic- pictures Ritz showed me, it was terrible what happened to those people but I couldn’t ever bring myself to even start that type of menace.”
Listening to her plead almost makes me want to spit at her. The stench of blood oozes off her like the fountain of a resort. She’s probably getting turned on just talking about how she could never do such a thing, knowing all the while she would gut me a moments chance.
”Ms. Vale, I understand. This will all end quickly then with your cooperation.” I say calmly.
She nodes sincerely back at me.
“Take me through what happened on January 9th with James Davis.”
“Ahh James.” a deep smile arose. “James and I had been seeing each other for a while, he was a true gentleman. That day he had invited me out for dinner and drinks afterwards. When he arrived at the restaurant it was instant chemistry. His beautiful muscular frame and beautiful chiseled face, I can see it all too clearly. That night he was wearing a loose collared shirt, casual but nice enough to fit the setting. He wore his staple gold Rolex and dress pants which matched his shoes. That night we spoke so much and fluidly is was like we had known each other for years. After dinner we had a couple of drinks at the bar before it got too late. Then I told him I had to go and we parted ways. I haven’t seen him since then.”
“Except that’s not how it ended” I add. “You drugged him and that bar and followed him home afterwards. Then once he made it home you broke into his home and started to slowly mutilate him in sleep.
“I did not” she responded sharply.
“James was a good man and I think I lov-“
“You don’t know what love is you sick bitch” I cut her off.
She covers her mouth with her hand offended.
“Take off that fake mask of a personality, I know you're just itching to show it to someone”
”I don’t know what you mean.” She pleads.
“I can read you like a book. Your name isn’t Liora, and you're not 37. Both of those are stolen identities you fabricated or stole. Nothing about you is normal, L-i-o-r-a.”
A crack shows.
“I think I need a break detective” she lowers her head.
“A normal human blinks 15 to 20 times a minute in a normal relaxed state. It can decrease to almost 5-10 in a tense situation such as an interrogation because the brain prioritizes gathering visual information. Under extreme stress, anxiety, or cognitive overload, blinking increases significantly—sometimes up to 30–50 blinks per minute.”
I pause for a moment.
”You L-i-o-r-a, don’t blink at all.”
She raises her head. This time the soft features look hard. Her gentle eyes look colder than any blizzard.
“You’re right detective, you’re so right.” A chill sends down my spine as her voice has changed completely.
“I haven’t been able to show my true face in so-so, so so long. I haven’t killed in almost over two weeks since I noticed your team hot on my trail.” She drew a smile menacingly.
She scratches her finger nails against the metal table, grinding against it causing a cringy screech. She didn’t stop until blood drew from them.
“Two weeks, two. It’s been over a decade since I’ve went this long without showing myself to someone detective. It feels like a suffocating in a vacuum of space” she puts her hands around her neck but stares still into my eyes. “Without ever knowing when you will actually lose air.”
”How many people have you killed?” I question seizing the opportunity.
“I’ve lost count detective. Hundreds, thousands. Does it really matter? Do you count the number of people you introduce yourself to since birth?”
“How many in this town?”
“47.”
“Where is the last per-“ She raised her hand cutting off my question.
“I have a question, d-e-t-e-c-t-i-v-e?”
I wince at her using my own method.
“How many of us have you actually locked up?”
”I’ve arrested hundreds of serial killers and psychopaths like you.” I entertain it.
“Have you ever thought that maybe you're a bit too good at catching us. That when you sit in front of me, you feel as comfortable as sitting in front of a mirror. Or have you ever thought that your own team wouldn’t start to question how you are so good at catching us?”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair a little bit and don’t move my neck but glance slightly to the right.
“Detective the worst of it all, is that you recited your favorite line about blinking in hopes to catch me off guard, but didn’t realize that you’ve only blinked 15 times since you came in here. Relaxed as can be.” Her smile widened ear to ear. “Detective we are the same you and I, except you have hidden it better than I could. I have been imprisoned for over 10 years. I was only released for this little experiment.”
I slam my fist on to the table. “Shut the hell up, I’m done with this.” Then I raise out of my seat and head for the door. Liora laughs historically in the background at me.
When I get to the door I see my reflection, and see the cold eyes of steel sitting in the blizzard. I push past it and grab the door knob pulling it open.
Green beams blind me as they push into me violently. “It’s all over D, we’re bringing you in.” Ritz points his pistol at me and hands me cuffs.