Chili

Chili
         “Where is she?” The detective’s voice was firm while she paced in his circumference. The interview room was boiling, an old time interrogation strategy. The walls sweat from humidity, but her suspect remained entirely composed.  Mere heat was no match for the iron that reinforced his expression. His smile was what annoyed her the most. An eight year old girl was abducted. This man knew where she was, and yet there he sat. He had no words, nothing to say, only that crooked and tranquil smile. Detective Nixon was just as wary. Despite her desperation for answers, she stayed belligerent. They had been at this for two hours. Nixon knelt closer to his ear and slammed her fists on the table. She hoped in vain for a jump from her suspect. When he spoke his melodious voice startled her.
         “Do you have a family, Detective? Do you have children, a husband? Do you have any pets? 
“No.”
“As suspected, I wondered why you’ve been at this for so long. Wasting precious time, which could be better spent with loved ones,” he chuckled and straightened his tie. “You’ve been at this for hours, darling, do you realize this?” She was thankful for the way his eyes finally bore into her; she needed him to be receptive.
“You’re going to tell me where that girl is right now.”
“No, I’m not, but don’t fret, that will come. I require something of you first.”
“What?” She spat, completely repulsed by his arrogant conduct. As if he was the one making the decisions. She wouldn’t bargain with a criminal.
         “I fancy a drink. A brandy, if it’s not too much trouble.” He continued to stare awaiting his answer; until, her laughter busted the silence that had crammed the room after such a preposterous request.
         “The Federal Bureau of Investigation doesn’t negotiate with kidnappers, Mr. Ramsey,” she sat down, still chuckling, “and we surely don’t oblige them with a nightcap.” He twisted a golden wedding band around his ring finger and kept his eyes locked onto hers. The intensity of his stare was much different than the cordial vibe he had omitted moments earlier. His bottomless voice rumbled while he spoke.
         “I’m much more then a kidnapper, Miss Nixon.”