He shrugged carelessly, his voice tinged with impatience. "It happens sometimes with rock climbers. The pressure on the hands can cause fractures, especially if they're trying to hang on for dear life."
Her eyes narrowed behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. "So this was an equipment failure, perhaps?"
The young man's head shook slowly. "No, no equipment involved. She was free soloing. No ropes, no harnesses, nothing to catch her if she fell."
Dragnelle's brow arched just slightly. "Isn't that a little… risky?" she asked, her voice still light, but the undercurrent of something more calculating was now unmistakable.
"Clearly," the young man replied, his tone dismissive. "Is that all?"
Dragnelle stood and straightened her coat with the smoothness of someone who had just acquired exactly what they wanted. She slid the folder back onto the desk with deliberate care, each movement deliberate and precise. "That's all," she said, flashing a smile that was both warm and dangerous, the kind that could make anyone feel momentarily at ease, even as they began to realize that they were being carefully sized up.
She turned on her heel and made her way back toward the door, her steps light but purposeful, the click of her cane against the floor a steady metronome in the otherwise quiet room. The young man, who had already turned his attention to other matters, didn't watch her go, but Dragnelle could feel his eyes following her from the corner of her mind's eye. She didn't let him see that she noticed.
As she stepped out of the police station, the lively bustle of the market once again enveloped her. The clamor of the vendors and the hum of the crowd created a comforting rhythm, like a heartbeat in the background of her thoughts. She moved through the throng with ease, her cane tapping against the uneven pavement in a steady, almost meditative cadence. Her destination now was clear—the harbor, and a meeting with someone who could provide the final pieces of a puzzle she was assembling.
The air was cool with the scent of saltwater as she approached the quieter edges of the docks, the sound of waves lapping gently against the wooden piers serving as a soft contrast to the noise of the city. She spotted an elderly man sitting on a wooden crate, his weathered hands expertly mending a fishing net, his face creased with age and experience. The moment Dragnelle's shadow fell across him, he looked up, squinting against the bright sun as his gaze moved over her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost knowing in his eyes.