Law and Order- complete

XXVI

Yet, if we pull back to conduct a deeper analysis, what we observe is a law firm sector grappling with three interrelated threats that are seldom the focus of sustained attention: insufficient leadership, attorneys' lack of-

"You have to tell me about that fucking frat" 

I peer up from the thick rimmed glasses to see a flushed face Logan. She approaches the desk, causing me to pull my feet down and close the book shut, now that she'd had my full attention. I couldn't help but notice how rough her face look. A pimple broke out on her left cheek, gray crescents sat underneath her eyes, and her hair seemed like it'd been in the same ponytail for days. Her hand slaps a small polaroid picture on the desk, creating a loud slam.

I glance at the Victorian clock behind her. It's damn near 7. How did she even get in here?

"Please." She continues as she sits down and pulls her chair up. I look passed her and into the hallway, upon noticing that the door was left open, I take one last bite of the apple I held and toss it into the bin, making my way to close it. I found myself mentally preparing for whatever came next. 

"What did you find." I say indistinctly. Surely something had to come up in the last day since I've seen her. I prayed she didn't talk to that dimwitted friend of hers. I reach from behind her to grab the picture from the desk as I circle around to the chair, placing myself in it. My eyes squint as I try to make sense of the blurry picture.

"What am I looking at." I turn the picture to the side. Perhaps, I'm looking at it wrong. 

I'm taken aback when she leans forward and yanks the picture from me, turning it completely upside down and slamming it yet again. This time, pointing her bony finger at a blur of skin. "That's me. That's my stomach." Her voice wavers and her jaw clenches. Now that she's said it, I can see it. In the frame was a stomach and the body seemed to be lying on grass. The way it glistened told me  that it was wet. A hand lie next to the stomach, flared out. At the bottom of the picture was a blur of a pair of sneakers. Obviously belonging to the photographer.

"We were getting drunk and whatever and I ended up stepping outside because I didn't feel good. Turns out my drink was roofied and the person who did it followed me outside and... you know."

Shit.

"Where did you get this?" My tone is grave at the realization.

"Ryder. We were at his house and-" Her head shakes and she squirms in her seat, "it doesn't matter. He had it. Why would he have that!?" Her voice raises and she quickly wipes away the watery eyes, not allowing a single tear to fall.

 "I feel like you're not telling me something." Her large eyes look at me, searching my face for a sign. There was nothing I could tell her without mentioning my own case. If I'd known it'd be this difficult, I don't think I would have done this to begin with. But it felt too late now.

"What do you want to know?" I say hesitantly as I straighten my back in the chair. 

"What did ChiPhi have you do the night Jason died?" She blurts. My brows unite together in confusion at the sudden words and I feel my chest panic. I have to clear my throat to maintain eye contact with her. "I-I told you that it wasn't your business." I remind her, trying to stay firm. The look on her face tells me that she isn't going to let it go.

"Did you not see this? This was from the night I was raped and Ryder had something to do with it because of that stupid fucking frat so please!" Her chin quivers and she quickly runs her hand across it, clearing her throat afterwards. She was scared, and we both knew it. Her eyes glossed over but a subtle glance at the ceiling quickly dried them up.