Camilla’s Weakness

Detective Camilla Soto arrived at the station, fresh from the scene of the crime. On the short trek to her desk Camilla’s comely appearance turned the heads of a few cons and even some fellow policemen. A fact that often bothered Camilla. Yet, her professional polish and diminutive figure couldn’t hide the natural allure of an unblemished olive complexion and pronounced cheekbones, regardless of how little makeup she wore. Nor could her charcoal-gray pant suit hide the supple, fit body that lied beneath.

With the department drained of resources due to the recent heist Camilla knew she was in for what would soon become a mountain of paperwork. A massive workload that the rookie detective had not yet grown accustomed to. It wasn’t that Camilla had a distaste for her job. In fact, she loved her work. Though her talents and expertise lied in her ties to the Hispanic community and sound investigative work, not the daily grind of pencil pushing.

At her desk Camilla pulled her raven black hair into an ever so tight bun. She peered down the lenses of her stylish, thick-framed eyeglasses as she shifted through her evidence and notes of the eyewitness accounts gathered outside the jewelry boutique. Soon a vague description of the assailant and timetable of events began to form. Comfortable with the information she had and proud of her findings the young detective prepared to call her partner and send out an APB on the person of interest.

Prior to her dialing Camilla noticed a list on her partner’s desk. It contained descriptions of individuals recently arrested or brought in for questioning for various reasons. As her eyes roamed over the document she noticed one particular Jane Doe that aroused her interest. The suspect was being held for gun possession without a permit. There was no photo present, but her description was similar to Camilla’s suspect. The woman was also apprehended only a few blocks away from the explosion.

This was all to tempting for the rookie detective. Camilla Soto had risen in the ranks nearly as fast as any other woman in the department’s history. The prudent thing to do would have been to alert her superiors, but Camilla hadn’t thrived in her profession by being prudent. Camilla wanted this bust, and if her hunch was right she’d have it.

Striding confidently pass the uniformed officers assigned throughout the building Camilla made her way to the interrogation rooms, with each step accompanied by the sharp clack of her black pumps. Camilla had a folder of evidence clasped in one hand, a pen for the perpetrator to sign their confession in the other, and excitement welling inside her stomach. Unlike the stacks of monotonous paperwork, this part of the job was what Camilla loved. The interrogation, the art of breaking down a prospective criminal.

Moments later Camilla Soto arrived at the door of interrogation room 2. She straightened her back and fanned out the jacket of her pant suit. Her attire was crisp and clean. She was ready. Twisting the doorknob Camilla stepped inside the white room.

And that’s when everything changed.

When Camilla’s eyes locked to the suspect the young detective was struck with a torrent of emotion. The once brisk gait Camilla carried herself with became a tentative shuffle, inching to her flimsy chair at the stainless steel table positioned in the room’s center. The woman across from her was no stranger. It was someone the detective knew all too well.

“Have you missed me, Cammy?” The suspect then brushed the bangs of her short, artfully disheveled strawberry-blonde hair from her face, reveling a predatory leer behind light freckles and sultry green eyes.

Camilla averted her soft brown eyes away from the suspect, Vanessa Graves. The rookie detective scanned over a blank manila folder in a vain attempt to hide her insecurity. She then cle

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