Taking a shot

A hybrid of adrenaline and anxiety ran through me like a mixed drink. I got the confession. Me. Mr. Gold sat in there for hours and got nothing; I sat in there for just under a half an hour and got the whole story.

I waited in the room with Mr. Gold and Joe. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere else to be, Bryson included.
"I must admit Lawrence, that was risky but you made it work." Mr. Gold spoke.
"I know, I should have cleared it with you first, I'm sorry."
"You're proving yourself, I don't mind." I was surprised, Mr. Gold was not one for surprises. If it wasn't planned, he didn't like it. Joe smiled at me over Mr. Golds' shoulder.
"Thank you."

Roy was still shouting in the interrogation room but we muted the microphone. He looked like a muppet his mouth was opened so wide. My nose was nearly pressed to the glass as I stared at him. I felt Mr. Gold move next to me.
"How can people be so despicable?"
"He had childhood trauma." Joe moved to my other side. "It doesn't make what he did okay, but it helps us understand why he did it. Most people suffer badly upbringing which causes them to lash out, sometimes it gets too big and becomes illegal. If he would have come from a loving home, chances greatly decrease for him to have committed these crimes."

Your up bringing affect so much, much more than people understand. We, as people, obviously make our own choices but the choices of our parents when we were younger affected what we do as we are older. Nothing about a person is cut and dry. Some people are wired like that but some people are created to be who they are. It makes you look at every action a little differently.

The hum of the elevator rattled the wall.
"Cops are here," Joe stated, I didn't move. Roy was still shouting to himself. Did he think we were listening? Mr. Gold exited the room.

When he came back, he was tailed by 4 officers. Two of them looked to be older than Mr. Gold, the other two looked to be about Joe and I's age.
"These are my agents, Joe Evian and Lawrence Campbell."
"Who was the one who got the confession?" One of the older cops asked.
"Lawrence did." Mr. Gold was very matter of fact when he spoke.
"Hudson, Munro take him for questioning." The man pointed at Joe. His eyes grew wide. Unfortunately, I was used to the mix-up.
"Oh no, I-"
"I'm Lawrence, but I go by Rene." I helped him out. The man looked at me.
"You're Lawrence?"
"Yes." The man studied me closely. The other cops looked between the lead cop, Joe, and me.
"Is there a problem?" Hotly, Mr. Gold asked.
"No." The man flagged his men to question me.

The other older cop and one of the younger cops walked with me. For the one who got the confession, I was made to feel as if I made it. They led me to the room we normally have our meetings in the morning. I was so nervous I wished Bryson was here.

They both sat on one side of the table while I sat awkwardly across from them. The younger of the two had out a notepad and pen.
"So what happened?" The older gentleman asked. I sat there stunned at his unprofessionalism.
"The-uh- do you mean the crime or how we got the confession?" The man's eyes were blank.
"The confession, of course."
"Well-" The door swung open and Mr. Gold stalked in slowly.
"There you are, Lawrence." I smiled slightly at him.
"We are in the middle of something." The man said annoyed.
"Which is?"
"Getting the confession."
"We have already received that information from the criminal himself." The banter was hot as it flew between them. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Is that all? We are in the middle of something."
"Is she in trouble?" Mr. Gold towered at the end of the table.
"No." Answered the older officer.
"Then I don't know why you feel the need to interrogate her by herself."
"We are fact-checking her story." Mr. Golds' jaw clenched and his back stiffened.
"She is not a criminal, she is one of my agents. If you want the events of what happened, you will not treat her as such. Am I clear?" The older man looked annoyed and the younger man looked just as on edge as I was. "Lawrence." He barked, I knew what he meant. I hopped to my feet and followed him close out the door.

As we walked at a quick pace, Mr. Gold mumbled under his breath something about injustice and the audacity they had. Mr. Gold was not a man to lose control of his emotions. Most of the time he could brave everything with a straight face and you wouldn't know a thing. He was so mad even his ears were red.

Back in the room, we started in, the other two officers followed us back in. Tension was high in the room, I almost choked.
"Can you tell us about the confession?" The officer who was interrogating me asked. I looked over at Joe and Mr. Gold for some sort of confirmation.
"Sure," He started, trying to push back his anger.

After a few minutes of Mr. Gold and I giving the events, the officer closed his notepad.
"That should be all. We do request a copy of the footage-" Joe scrambled to hand over the pre-made tape. "Oh, and case files?" Joe handed over a Manila envelope. "Well good. We will be taking Thurman then."

The officers escorted an angry but silent Roy Thurman out of the bunker. The youngest hung back, standing awkwardly in the hall.
"Rene, was it?" The policemen asked me, I nodded. "If it isn't too bold, but I'd like to ask you out sometime. If that's okay?" He was sweet, but he wasn't the one I wanted, nor could he be.
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm going to have to pass." I declined, smiling slightly, then pushing past him. Joe stood not far behind with a knowing look on his face. I just shook my head and kept going.

Bryson was standing on the balcony overlooking the field. I joined him.
"Strange how pretty a shooting range can be." He jumped a little at the sound of my voice.
"No, it's strange we find a shooting range pretty." I laughed, he wasn't wrong. The night air was cool around us. I took in a deep breath. The moonlight laid a grayish-white cast across the field. "I wish our dads could have been here to see this. Well, I wish a lot with my dad, especially after coming here but." I waved my hand in dismissal.
"From what I remember, he was a great man and he would have been proud of you." I knew Bryson didn't have much to go on, he was only two or three years older than me, but the sentiment was appreciated.
"I'm sure you're dad is too."
"Thanks, Rene." I nodded.

Looking out, I couldn't get over how beautiful the shooting range looked and what a strange thing to find beautiful.
"I have to admit-" Something caught my eye.
"Is something moving in the field?" I cut him off. We both looked closely at the row of barrels that were set up for shooting practice.
"I don't-" A bang rang out. Everything seemed to happen too fast. Bryson coughed and stumbled back.
"Oh my god!" He was shot. One hand clutched his abdomen while the other reached his throat. His breathing was labored and starting to slow. What was happening? "Bryson?" I grabbed his stomach with my hands trying to keep calm. He shook his head. His eyes bore heavily into mine. He moved his mouth in a manner I had seen before. "Are you having an allergic reaction?" He nodded. "Where's your EpiPen?" I ran for the end table and started to dig around the endless amounts of junk. "Bryson, where is your EpiPen!" I shirked. Why didn't I have mine with me? "Help!" I screamed, hoping someone would come quickly....