wideeyedone
Baby did a bad, bad thing
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2007
- Posts
- 7,070
Anna Driscoll sat in the hard metall chair, her knees to her chest. She was shivering but she wasn't cold. She couldn't get the images out of her mind. The gunman's face was seared into her memory. The sound of her father choking on his own blood was still tormenting her. She wasn't supposed to have been home, but she had stopped by to ask her father to listen to the knock in her car's engine. Her father, the federal judge, loved to tinker with cars and he changed his own oil and did small repairs in the garage out back. The thought of the half restored classic car in the garage made tears slip down her cheeks.
The investigators kept asking her questions but she didn't have any answers. She knew that her father had been working on a tough case, but she didn't know details. She had spoken to the sketch artist. The sketch looked just like the gunman. But he had seen her face. He had looked right at her and raised his gun, but her father's security detail had come through the door just then. He ran.
The man from the FBI said that she would need to go to a safehouse. An agent had driven her to her place and she had packed a bag. She and her suitcase were waiting for the agent that was going to be protecting her. She looked at herself in the two way glass window of the interrogation room. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was paler than usual, but her cheeks were flushed red from crying. Her big brown eyes were redrimmed from crying.
Anna was curled up in a baggy grey cardigan that had belonged to her father. It still smelled like him, peppermint lifesavers and his cologne. She laid her head down on her arms. She closed her eyes and tried to rest.
The investigators kept asking her questions but she didn't have any answers. She knew that her father had been working on a tough case, but she didn't know details. She had spoken to the sketch artist. The sketch looked just like the gunman. But he had seen her face. He had looked right at her and raised his gun, but her father's security detail had come through the door just then. He ran.
The man from the FBI said that she would need to go to a safehouse. An agent had driven her to her place and she had packed a bag. She and her suitcase were waiting for the agent that was going to be protecting her. She looked at herself in the two way glass window of the interrogation room. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was paler than usual, but her cheeks were flushed red from crying. Her big brown eyes were redrimmed from crying.
Anna was curled up in a baggy grey cardigan that had belonged to her father. It still smelled like him, peppermint lifesavers and his cologne. She laid her head down on her arms. She closed her eyes and tried to rest.