Chapter Text
Rin Megido glances at her watch again as she follows Sheriff Moles down the stairs to the jail cells in the basement. She wonders if these seven seconds will be subtracted from the ten minutes of visitation that he had so graciously allowed her.
As Moles opens the stairwell door and holds it open for her, she quickly checks again that her documents are in order, then she steps out into the department’s garish yellow basement. Honestly, what is with the color scheme in this place? Just because it’s publicly funded doesn’t mean they have to put in every effort to make it an egregious eyesore. Though, perhaps it’s part of the punishment…
She makes a quick note at the corner of her legal pad then follows Moles to the furthest cell. In it sits a woman with skin like night, her head shaved clean, wearing high-end business attire in a monochrome black scheme. Rin cannot help the thought that this woman is far too elegant to belong in a cell of yellow-painted concrete and iron. Her bright, light-colored eyes flick toward Rin, though she does not otherwise acknowledge the newcomers.
Moles stops in front of the cell, hands on his hips, and barks, “Alright, Snowman, listen up. This is Ms. Megido. She’s a student from Berkley. Forensic anthropology. She－”
“And criminology.”
Moles turns to glare at her. Snowman doesn’t notice. Snowman is still watching Rin with no expression.
“Criminology is the reason I’m here,” Rin reminds him, impatiently. “I told you that.”
Moles grunts and returns his attention to Snowman. He continues, “She has been given nine minutes to ask you questions. You will respond to them without violence or threats. She will then leave.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Rin hisses under her breath. Not only did it seem that he actually was going to count the ten minutes out from when they left his desk upstairs, but he was also terrible at temporal mathematics; she had nine minutes and seventeen seconds, thank you very much.
“Language,” Moles warns, glaring at her again.
“English, why?” Rin replies.
Moles just stares at her for a brief moment, then amends, “Eight minutes. Have fun.”
He steps away so that she may step forward. She really hates the idea of having this man at her back, even if she's fairly certain that she could slit his throat before he even drew his weapon, but arguing about his behavior would only succeed in reducing her time to nothing, and then she’d have to find another subject for her paper. Her only hope was to behave well this time, try to earn Snowman’s consent, and thus be able to continue the project from there.
Snowman is still watching. She hasn’t moved. She has said nothing. But she watches with an intent that somehow actually succeeds in making Rin connect with the moment. “Feel alive,” as some people might put it. Rin tries her best to ignore it, looks down at her notes, and asks, “Do you have a name other than Snowman?”
Snowman says nothing.
Rin considers, irritated, then decides to move on to the next question. It’s not like she’d asked for her real name, but Snowman was probably smart enough to know extra aliases could help pin down the details. “You have been jailed multiple times on…” She looked down at her list. “... multiple counts of armed robbery, unlicensed possession of firearms, disorderly conduct, assault of a police officer, assault of a police dog, and vandalism. Though you have never been formally charged with such, you have been, at various times, suspected in the involvement of as many as sixty murders and deaths.” She looks up again at Snowman who is still staring at her silently. “And yet you have never faced a day in court.”
Moles attempts to step into her space to intimidate her, but she quickly steps back into his space first, ramming her elbow into his ribs. As he grunts and backs up again, she spins toward him with a carefully blank expression and says, “Excuse the accident, sir, but these things would be avoidable if you didn’t stand close enough to accidentally hit with a stray elbow or perhaps a sexual harassment complaint.”
Moles growls at her. It’s almost endearingly stupid how men think they can intimidate women by behaving even more animalistic than usual. “Look, here, you,” he snarls. “If you think I’m just going to stand by while you accuse the justice system of god-knows-what －”
“I accused no one of anything, sir,” Rin reminds him. “I simply asked her why it happened. Why would you assume that I’d say anything else? Are you implying that judges can be bought with blood money?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds a hand up, and says, “Look, I have seven minutes and thirty-four seconds left. Please, do not force me to waste it on your conspiracy theories.”
“My－?!”
“Ssh,” she tells him, snapping her fingers in his face. She turns on her heal back to Snowman who still hasn’t moved, “And I’d rather not waste my words on an unwilling participant. If there is absolutely no way you’re going to answer anything at all, I would appreciate some indication.”
Snowman continues staring at her. Rin can feel her seven minutes and three seconds slipping like sand through her fingers, and the waste is exasperating.
When she has six minutes and forty-eight seconds remaining, she turns sharply to Moles and says, “I apologize for wa－”
“I must have had a good lawyer.”
Rin spins back toward Snowman. “No, you didn’t,” she presses, stepping toward the cell bars eagerly. “Your lawyers were purposefully assigned because they had the absolute worst rates of success, which is to say a rate of zero － until they represented you.”
Snowman just shrugs. “Perhaps the district attorneys didn’t think I was worth the sacrifice of their…” She smiles a little. A brief glint of shining white on coal black. “... time.”
Interesting. She threatens compliance from the district attorneys, but not from the cops that repeatedly arrest her. “Why do you do these things?” Rin asks. “What is your motivation for criminal activity?”
Snowman smiles again, a confident smirk. “If I were to partake in criminal activity, I suppose it would be to breed fear.”
“Why?” Rin presses.
The smirk dies. “Because it’s the only thing I can do.”
Rin grins broadly. Her paper is going to be amazing. She pulls at the bars eagerly, her dissecting stare meeting Snowman’s stoney one. “Why do you believe that?” she presses further. In the back of her mind, she’s already trying to concoct ways to convince Moles to allow further interviews.
It feels like a kick in the face, when Snowman finally drops her penetrating gaze and lies back on the cell bench, dismissing Rin. “You won’t get your answers in the next five minutes,” she says. “This interview is pointless.”
“But－!”
“You’re right, though. I’ll be released within the hour. So tomorrow, I’ll find your number, and I’ll call you, and I’ll tell you when and where your next interview will be.”
Rin’s grin is back firmly in place, so wide it hurts. “Thank you! You can trust me! I’m only interested in－”
“I don’t care.” Snowman glances toward her one last time with an expression that Rin can’t easily read. Regret? Pity? Analysis? Predation? “If you accept these terms, you will never be released from them.”
Rin shrugs, ignoring Moles’s protests behind her. “I’m not afraid,” she insists.
“And you never will be again,” says Snowman.