"I'm going to say a word, your going to say what comes to mind first, is that clear?"

She rose her head to look into the man's eyes.

They were grey, and tired; it was clear he had stayed up all night, probably worried about his wife by the way he would constantly touch his ring.

"Name."

She was probably a victim of the events that had occurred earlier.

"Known."

They had a child.

"Country."

Child must of not made it by the redness in his eyes.

"United States of America."

The man scribbled capable of speech, smartass.

She smiled.

"School."

Now he started easing into what actually happened, now she had to think a bit before she answered. Not to long or he will write that she thought of a lie and that she had done it. Quick, witty, but not too cocky.

"Youth."

He shuddered. This was cruel punishment for him to be away from his wife.

"Water."

He must have been an cop for at least ten years, must be if he's this faithful to his job that he would rather be talking to suspects than be with his wife.

"Fire."

Maybe he knows his wife won't make it, so he's working overtime to find who caused this whole ordeal.

"Elementary"

Uh oh, his emotions were starting to get the better of him.

"Children."

His hand formed a fist, he wanted to kill her, he wanted to beat her bloody for what she had done. This tactic was pointless. She was obviously so smart she could lie without thinking about it, she could call herself a poet from 1847 through a lie detector and it would say she told the truth. Why was he even there? Cathy was on her death bed and Hannah, sweet, sweet Hannah.

"Children."

Oh this was too easy.
"Pointless."

His eyes filled with rage, he tried to settle but his blood was already boiling.

"Murderer." He scoffed under breath, she took his words and sharpened them to hurt him even more than she already had.

"Justice." She smiled her devilish grin. That was all she had to say, that what happened was what had to be done, that his child had to die. That single word made him push the table keeping them separated across the room. Two syllables to make him grab her by the neck. And seven letters for him to point his gun at her brain.

Her face was grim but her grin remained planted on her face. She knew he wouldn't fire. He still had morals. He was still considered good. A saint. But still, nobody came to save her. Nobody came from behind that one way mirror. Maybe they were rooting for him to kill her. Maybe they didn't care if she died. They would call that justice.

Water.

Water was being dripped onto her face.

No, not water. Tears.

The man was crying, his gun was shaking. Did he even load it? No, he was such a wreck that even if he had intended to kill her, he couldn't. She pitied his emotions. Her smile dissolved. She slowly pushed the gun away from her head, pulled the table back to were it was, and sat cross legged waiting for him to settle. He stood there for a long time, but once his knees started to shake. She stood and directed him to sit. She tried to gently push him but he shook her off. But that didn't stop him from sitting down. She returned to her Indian style sitting on the ground.

After 16 minuets the mans sniffling subsided. He looked to her as she blankly store into the unknown. Like she knew something nobody could comprehend. Like she was a genius forced to play a child's game. Constantly bored, wanting something bigger, an actual challenge. Suddenly, as if she had never stopped looking at him. She was back.

"How do you feel?"

He avoided her curious eyes, "fine," he grumbled.

"I think I might of said the wrong things."

"Really?" Sarcasm was heavy in his word.

"Can we start over?"

He looked to the mirror for a sign, and since it didn't come, he sighed and agreed to start over like nothing had occurred.

"Name."

"Nina."

"Last."

"Spencer."

"Truth?"

"Always."

"Date"

"2013"

"Murder"

"Innocent"

He looked to her to see if his naive eyes could see a lie. Useless.

"Evidence."

"Planted"

He scoffed, but her eyes pleaded for him to believe her. She rose and walked over to him, and sat next to him.

"Name?"

"Sorry?"

"What? Only you can ask questions?"

He sighed, this had gone on for so long, why hadn't they come in yet to take her away? Not even a word from the people behind the mirror.

"Name?"

"Eli."

"Last."

"Jones."

"Family?"

"Gone."

"Child?"

Eli sighed, "Dead."

"Apologies."

"Confession?"

Nina blankly stared into him, "Framed."

Silence fell over the room. Until she chuckled.

"In high school, my Literature class read the storied of Sherlock Holmes," She closed her eyes and smiled as she remember the days, "they called me Moriarty."

"That's not a, good thing."

Her eyes suddenly were looking to Eli. As if her brief trip to memory lane had given her some new knowledge.

"I know. Its awfully quiet."

"Well it is a sound proof room."

"No. Quieter, you can't tell?" He shook his head.

"God you are so dull, you can't even hear the air conditioner, that camera has been turned off for eight minuets. And nobody is behind that mirror. We are alone."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes as she slid off the table.

"This door should be manned, correct?"

"Right."

"Well look at it now!" Nina pushed the door open, it was hard to move at first, but once the bodies moved it was easy. But bodies she didn't expect.

"Oh, well, I thought they all went on lunch break or something. Not all died. Huh."

"Died? What do you mean died?!" Eli started to make his way to the door, but Nina just smiled and shut it in his face.

"Sorry Mr. Jones, this Moriarty has to find her Sherlock. You can break the door down in, seven minuets, then you get a choice, find me, of go to your wif-" The door then sprouted, a hand. "or you can break through the door now."

"Run you murderer!"

"hope to talk to you soon!" And that was the last Eli Jones saw of Nina Spencer.

For the day.


Hi, I hope you like this little story of mine :)