Accomplice Talk

Vivian’s POV:

"What?" Harper exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt and fixing his gaze on me. His response took me by surprise, causing me to jump slightly. "Isn't Edna the very person you've been pursuing, Vivian? The killer you’ve always wanted to capture?" He continued, his brows furrowing as he peered at me with disbelief and skepticism. He found my assumption hard to fathom, and I couldn't blame him.

"It's more of a strong intuition I can't shake off, and I believe the situation might not be as straightforward as it appears," I explained, maintaining a steady gaze ahead as I shared my thoughts. Harper's response was swift, his posture unwavering as he directly faced me. However, his expression is evident with frustration. "Are you seriously suggesting this based solely on intuition?" he retorted, his tone edged with exasperation. I couldn't help but feel confused at his reaction – after all, he had often supported my hunches. Why not now?

“I have reasons to think so, don’t you believe me, Harper?” I explained, looking at him straight through his glasses, his eyes remaining inscrutable. We stood there momentarily until Harper broke eye contact first, “Fine, let’s say I do believe you, but let’s not discuss that here,” Harper muttered, retracing his steps back into the hallway. I was taken aback by how he was processing all of this, but regardless, I followed closely behind him, reentering the same lobby we had initially entered.

We departed from the lobby, greeted by several parked police cars and curious residents passing by, their gazes fixed upon us. The early morning sunlight was harsh on my eyes, a reminder of the sleep I had missed since the deployment. Shielding my eyes, I turned to Harper, a quizzical expression on my face, "Where are we headed?" I inquired. Harper's response was composed, his voice steady, "To a nearby cafe, let's gather our thoughts there." Our footsteps sounded on the concrete pavement as we made our way, the rhythmic tapping of our boots punctuating the air. I see he wants to keep it between us for now.

I followed Harper's lead, allowing him to guide me to his car. With a courteous nod, he opened the passenger door for me, and I thanked him silently before slipping into the comfortable, air-conditioned interior of the black vehicle. Harper rounded the car and sat in the driver's seat, closing his door with a firm click. I fastened my seatbelt while he inserted the key into the ignition, and as he pressed the gas pedal, the car slowly went into motion, settling into a steady rhythm. The atmosphere inside the vehicle held an unexpected sense of tranquility.

The bustling sounds of the city resonated in my ears, a stark reminder that we had moved away from the familiar neighborhood. Leaning against the windowsill, I gazed out of the car, observing the urban landscape as Harper skillfully navigated the vehicle to a stop near a nearby cafe. We synchronized the unlocking of our doors and stepped out onto the pavement, greeted by a gentle gust of warm air. I couldn't help but stifle a yawn since the fatigue from the extensive driving and interviews around Los Angeles was beginning to catch up with me. Despite that, we already finished a lot so far.

Harper and I walked into the cafe together, the little bell on the door making a soft sound. The restaurant was cozy and welcoming, with a few people sitting around. Harper led me to a table tucked away in a quiet corner. He offered to get our drinks, leaving me to my thoughts. I sat there quietly, trying to sort through everything we'd learned so far, while I waited for him to return with our drinks. I am positive my assumption is correct.

As I watched the footage, it became evident that Edna had left the room and headed toward the surveillance room, where she began deleting the footage. However, in her haste, she left one piece of incriminating evidence. Why would Edna go to such lengths to turn off the cameras? Was she acting on her own accord, or was she coerced? These questions swirled in my mind, adding to the growing list of uncertainties surrounding this case.

Harper arrived with our aromatic drinks, the smell of coffee and tea reaching my nostrils, breaking my train of thought. He placed the beverages on the table before us and sat across from me. I picked up the coffee cup, expressing gratitude before cautiously sipping the hot liquid, its warmth revitalizing me after the long night. On the other hand, Harper set his glasses aside, his fingers curling around his tea as he joined me in taking a sip.

I lowered the coffee mug, offering my gratitude with a smile. "Thank you for the coffee, Harper," I said appreciatively. He nodded in response, setting down his teacup and leaning in slightly. His voice was gentle as he spoke, acknowledging my fatigue, "It's just coffee, don't worry about it. I know you're tired." His words put me at ease, and he continued inquisitively, maintaining our eye contact, "So… why do you think Edna is just an accomplice?"

He broached the subject, and I rested my hands on my lap, responding with a composed demeanor, "Well, it's not just that... but didn't you notice how she left and headed towards the surveillance room?" My gaze shifted briefly to the window, the sun casting brilliant light over the towering skyscrapers. Returning my focus to Harper, I saw him glance down the table momentarily, lost in thought. His expressions were often transparent to me.

"You mean she was instructed? Then why would she leave a single piece of footage?" Harper's question was straightforward, his eyes meeting mine across the table. I anticipated this query. Exhaling softly, I propped my chin on the back of my hand, offering my response, "Consider this... perhaps she intended to leave a trace. Don't you think so?" The memory of her hurried exit from the operating room, her attire devoid of bloodstains, echoed in my mind.

Harper sighed, leaning backward at the cushion of his seat as he took another sip of his tea, closing his eyes for a moment and asking, “If that’s so, then how did the killer leave the scene without a trace? There were no signs of a break-in and footage of it. Tell me, Vivian.” He demanded an answer, sitting there confidently and raising a good point.

"That's precisely it. The missing footage could be the path the killer took," I responded with a note of assurance, a smile playing on my lips as Harper's eyes widened in realization, a brief pause hanging between us. It was still a hypothesis, but the pieces seemed to be falling into place, shedding light on how the killer might have exited the scene. An odd sense of amusement mingled with my thoughts, momentarily overshadowing any lingering uncertainty.