THEY HAD ONE INTERVIEW ROOM AND IT WAS not large, just big enough for two people. A camera high on one wall recorded everything and transmitted to any computer with access, so there could be many eyes watching. Cristina had the interview room in a window on her desktop and kept her eye on the girl’s body language as she sat alone, waiting.
“When are you going in there?” Robinson asked.
“Give it a minute.”
“She’s been waiting an hour.”
“I don’t think she’s ready.”
Cristina let another fifteen minutes slide by. The girl put her head down on the interview table. Cristina got up from her desk and put on a light jacket; it was always cold in the little room.
“Now?” Robinson asked.
“Now. Be ready in case we need to switch off.”
“We won’t need to after you sweet-talk her.”
Cristina went down the hall and around the corner to the interview room. It wasn’t locked, but there was no way out of the area without passing a cop. She let herself in.
The girl straightened up sharply when Cristina entered. Her tears were dried and now there were just the tracks they left behind. She wiped at her cheeks trying to fix the damage.
Cristina took the only other chair. “Hello again,” she said.
“Hello.”
“I’m Detective Cristina Salas. I’m going to be talking with you today.”
“I’d like to call my mother.”
“In a little while. First let’s chat. Can I call you Alicia? You can call me Cristina if you want.”
“Cristina,” the girl said.
“That’s right. I don’t mind.”
Cristina took a small notebook from her jacket pocket and opened it on the table. She had a mechanical pencil and on a fresh page she wrote the girl’s name and the date.
“Am I going to jail?”
“Probably. We found a lot of drugs in your room, Alicia.”
“I told you they aren’t mine.”
“You know what? I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Cristina said. “And what I’d like to talk to you about first is who they do belong to and how they got under your bed.”
Cristina saw the girl’s eyes dart to the side. The girl was no longer handcuffed, but she kept her hands together underneath the table. She shifted in her seat.
“I’m not asking for much,” Cristina said.
“I don’t know if I should talk to you.”
“Well, you don’t have to, but I think you’d rather tell me the truth now than have me find it out on my own. And I will find out on my own. If that happens, there’s no chance for any deals or special consideration.”
The girl did not look up.
“Okay, let’s start with some easy questions and work our way up to the hard stuff. Who owns the house where you live?”
“My mother.”
“You live there alone together?”
“Yes. My brother moved away last year.”
“Is it lonely without him?”
“Sometimes.”
The girl waited a long beat, and then she said, “Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t think I should say.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t want to get him into any trouble.”
“Is there some reason he would be? Does he know about the drugs you keep in your room?”
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t say, or you won’t say?”
“I don’t know.”
Cristina put her pencil down and reached across to touch the girl on the arm. “Hey, look at me. Come on, lift your head up. That’s better. Just tell me this: does he know about your drugs?”
The girl nodded.
“Does he know where they came from?”
“I really want to call my mother.”
“You can call her when we’re finished. Does your boyfriend know where the drugs come from?”
Another long pause. So long that Cristina thought she’d lost the girl completely. “Yes,” she said at last.
“Where do they come from?”
“Should I ask for a lawyer?”
“Do you want a lawyer?”
“I don’t know.”
“I tell you what: you want something to drink? I’ll bring you something from the machine. Then we can talk some more.”
“Okay.”
Cristina closed up her notebook and tucked it back in her pocket. She left the room, careful not to slam the door. Robinson came from the squad room. “I don’t need you yet,” Cristina said.
“It’s not that. Someone’s here.”
They went back to the squad room. Cristina saw McPeek from behind, watching Robinson’s monitor and the video feed from the interview room. The woman turned when they came close. “Cristina,” she said. “How are you?”
“Working,” Cristina said.
“Bob was just telling me this girl’s a known Azteca esquina.”
“That’s right. We have a confidential informant that puts her with Emilio Esperanza, one of José Martinez’s carnales. He also tipped us off to some drugs being held at her house.”
“If you know whose drugs they are, why don’t you just go after this Esperanza?”
“We want to keep the integrity of the CI,” Robinson said. “We arrest the girl, get her to give us her boyfriend’s name and then it looks like we connected to him through her.”
“And then you lean on him to give you something on José.”
“That’s right.”
“She doesn’t sound like she’s talking much.”
“I just got started with her,” Cristina said. “If the soft touch doesn’t work, Bob will take over for a little while.”
“Put a scare into her,” Robinson said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Is there something we can do for you?” Cristina asked.
“Not really. I stopped in to talk with your captain, thank him for allowing your cooperation. That’s all.”
Cristina searched her pockets. “Bob, do you have a dollar for the machine? I can’t go back without a Coke.”
“Here.”
“You can feel free to stay and watch if you want, Agent McPeek,” Cristina said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll be exciting.”
“I always like to watch professionals work.”
“Yeah, okay,” Cristina said. She left Robinson and McPeek in the squad room and went to the soda machine for a bottle of Coke. She gave the girl twenty minutes and then she would tell everything. Cristina was willing to set her watch by it.