"Come on, Danielle," said the senior officer as he tried to coax the truth out of Danielle. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't going to happen. "Who killed Jerome Stevenson? We'll apprehend them, and lock them up for good if only you'll coöperate."
The chair was cold and hard, Danielle noticed when she took a seat on the chair in the interrogating room. How many other people had sat in this same chair? Some convicted for murder, others completely innocent. The thought sent chills down her spine. There were no other chairs but the padded 5-wheel swivel chair that the slender senior officer sat in which forced Danielle's sister, Vanessa, to stay standing. Danielle momentarily pitied her but then she remembered how uncomfortable the chair was and all thoughts of pity vanished.
The low, dimly lit, fluorescent light glared down at her and the walls of the room made her claustrophobic - she figured the interior design was another method to make the person being interrogated feel pressured and spill out all their dirty little secrets. Along with the metal door that probably prevented sound from escaping and the one-way mirror (window) with a couple of police officers positioned safety behind it. If she hadn't known they were police officers she might have found the set up awfully suspicious.
"Just tell us and you'll _potentially_ save a lot of lives." The senior officer positioned his bony hand on Danielle's shoulder in what might have meant to be a comforting gesture but only made her groan within herself. She regarded it with deep aversion, and distinctively noticed how the pale flesh stretching over his skeleton-like fingers like a glove; the extra skin folding into wrinkles on the dorsal surface of his hand. She didn't dare take his hand off her shoulder or ask him to remove it. Danielle knew the police could be so sneaky sometimes.
Vanessa noticed Danielle's hard stare directed intensely on the officer's hand. She knew that her sister wanted his hand off of her shoulder but she was too cautious to tell him – the man was a police officer after all. Acting in one fluid motion Vanessa took the officer's hand between her index and thumb finger and emphatically she tossed it back at him. She responded on behalf of Danielle, "Don't touch her!"
"I don't know who you think you are-"
"Detective Seth Richards," he filled in.
"But you can't harass Danielle or force her to tell you who killed Jerome, she has her Miranda Rights. And yeah, its terrifying that perhaps another person might die but she's been though enough without you cops pestering her," Vanessa growled dangerously.
"Miranda Rights are for criminals," was the detective's only response.
Vanessa tossed her hair over her shoulders and rolled her eyes unperturbed by her...