Day 56: Center Street (morning)
[from here]
As soon as they stepped off the main street, it got much quieter. This really was a tiny little outpost of a town; isolation was doing a good deal of Landel/Aguilar's work for them. They could see the backs of the nearby shops, hidden from view only because no one looked. When she'd been little, she'd found this dichotomy -- not that she could have called it that -- fascinating. Every alley a treasure hunt; a mystery to be solved. She couldn't deny that she'd missed this, a bit, when she'd left the force. She'd never intended detective work to be more than a stepping-stone, but she'd also never expected to be quite so successful at it.
Then again, was prosecuting so different? She worked her way to the hidden sides of people with words, not legwork, and she was as good at it as she'd been at dissecting crime scenes. She'd had this conversation with herself before, but then it had been a repeated mantra to justify her actions to herself. At least I am good at this, I always wanted this, I can see that the defendant is guilty even if I can't trust the evidence I've vouched for.
Now it was different. I wonder what I should do with my life? She wasn't that man walking next to her; retirement wasn't precisely on the table at her age. So the question stood. It would be difficult to answer that with any worthwhile response from the confines of a mental institution, accredited or not.
"I think there must be something they can't afford to let us know. Setting an obvious riddle out would be a wise move in that case." It could explain Aguilar's odd remarks, and Landel's as well, though rampant egomania could cover many of the latter.
As soon as they stepped off the main street, it got much quieter. This really was a tiny little outpost of a town; isolation was doing a good deal of Landel/Aguilar's work for them. They could see the backs of the nearby shops, hidden from view only because no one looked. When she'd been little, she'd found this dichotomy -- not that she could have called it that -- fascinating. Every alley a treasure hunt; a mystery to be solved. She couldn't deny that she'd missed this, a bit, when she'd left the force. She'd never intended detective work to be more than a stepping-stone, but she'd also never expected to be quite so successful at it.
Then again, was prosecuting so different? She worked her way to the hidden sides of people with words, not legwork, and she was as good at it as she'd been at dissecting crime scenes. She'd had this conversation with herself before, but then it had been a repeated mantra to justify her actions to herself. At least I am good at this, I always wanted this, I can see that the defendant is guilty even if I can't trust the evidence I've vouched for.
Now it was different. I wonder what I should do with my life? She wasn't that man walking next to her; retirement wasn't precisely on the table at her age. So the question stood. It would be difficult to answer that with any worthwhile response from the confines of a mental institution, accredited or not.
"I think there must be something they can't afford to let us know. Setting an obvious riddle out would be a wise move in that case." It could explain Aguilar's odd remarks, and Landel's as well, though rampant egomania could cover many of the latter.