The set up pt 7

That room, stark white, the walls seemed to close tighter around her the longer Gypsy sat there. Panic had a stranglehold on her and there was nothing she could do to help herself. Every sound from beyond that door forced her body to lurch forward against the table. If all of that wasn’t bad enough, that fucking window was making her paranoid every time she looked over and saw her reflection in the glass. She knew what it was and why they made her sit alone for what seemed like an eternity. Those dumb fucking cops were watching her from the other side of a two-way mirror. What the fuck did they think that would accomplish? She didn’t do this. There is no way in the world she would harm that couple, let alone her child. What kind of animal did they think she was? The kind that gave up her only child to save the child from the horrors she had endured as a child.

“Can someone at least bring me a cup of coffee?”

Her eyes on the window, she knew they were watching. After watching CSI the entire time, she was pregnant, she thought she knew every tactic they would use. Of course, that was fantasy, and this is the real deal. These cops didn’t need dramatics to get ratings. All they wanted was to find the person who killed that upstanding family. Until forty-five minutes ago, she thought her daughter was safe. Now, her heart raced with fear, and she was willing to sell her soul to the devil to get her back safe.

The door opened with a slight squeak, the tall male carried a cup of coffee, placing it in front of her. Steam rolling off the cup, Gypsy wrapped her hands around the Styrofoam, shivering from the sudden contrast in temperature. Closing her eyes as she brought the cup to her lips, the sounds of the chair scraping the floor rattled her to the core. This was it. He was going to ask her things she wasn’t wanting to reveal. Do you lie at this point to save yourself, or do you tell the truth and allow the world to sneak into one of the most private moments of your life? That was the question burning a hole in her heart.

“When is the last time you had contact with the Brown family?” the first detective asked. That one would be Detective Garcia. The younger of the two.

“Physically? I saw them the day they picked up Grace from the hospital, and through the mail, I get one picture a month of her. That was in the adoption rules. I want to see her progress and grow even if I can’t be there with her,” speaking, her eyes remaining on the black fluid in the cup. Each time she spoke the liquid in the cup shook like when the dinosaurs came in the Jurassic Park movie. It was a forewarning of more to come.

Detective Jones, who was leaning against the wall was the next to ask. He was older, gray hair, and had a softer face. Maybe a family man. “Did you resent them, Miss Kennedy? I mean, I would be mad as hell at someone who had my child,” asking, his voice never changed. The tone flat and without feeling, he was a seasoned professional.

“Of course not,” shaking her head as she spoke. “How could I hate people who were filled with so much love inside of them? The adopted my daughter to save her, not to hurt me,” Gypsy looked up, her cheeks red from anger. What the hell were they doing? This was not getting Grace back. For all, they knew she could be on the human trafficking highway and out of the country already. This was getting them nowhere and her daughter was losing all hope of surviving.

Garcia, the younger of the two, leaned in looking at her dead in the face, “Why did you give your daughter up for adoption? Surely you have the money to raise her. You’re a Kennedy, right? Powerful family with more money than they will ever need. Why?” Leaning back with a smug look on his face Garcia could tell he was hitting a nerve. He was trained to observe and noted that when he asked her that, she squeezed the cup to the point where it almost crushed in her hands. It was his job to gain all the evidence no matter whom he hurt in the process.

“That’s none of your fucking business. She was supposed to be safe where she was. I love my daughter,” her voice elevated, Gypsy shook when she spoke about the why of it all.

Jones moved in to add his two cents to the whole thing, his nice demeanor gone now. “No! This is our business. We need to know why you gave her up. Was there someone who was going to hurt her if you didn’t? Her father? Family? Miss Kennedy, if you don’t help us, we can’t help that child,” his words firm and to the point, she could tell he was not going to have mercy on her.

“No one but my friends knew she was born. I told everyone I lost her at 20 weeks. No one fucking knew, or so I thought,” whispering, her voice was on the verge of a scream. She knew the child’s father was not involved. He didn’t care anyway. He walked out of their life and never looked back. He was not the poster boy for “Family Man”.

Pushing herself up from the table, walking over to the two-way mirror and resting her head against the pane of glass, the next two words would shock them all. Even Gypsy.

“My Father!”

The men looked at each other, writing down what she told them, this would blow the lid off the whole case and start the downfall of her family. If she was to save Grace, they would need to know the truth. “My father is a pedophile. He…” her voice stopped the moment the door opened, her Lawyer standing in the doorway.

“My client is done here. You will either charge her or release her.,” stating, he looked to Gypsy, “You say nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”

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