"How the hell is that any of your business? What're you reporting on, the social life of the teenage bitch?" But despite her immediate and harsh reaction, Bethan was, frankly, shaken. She didn't let it show - she was pretty good at not letting that kind of thing show - but...
Shit. Shit, she'd been caught. And she'd thought she'd gotten away with it, too. Even if it wasn't the police, even if it wasn't likely to get her in trouble, how the hell had she been tracked down so quickly?
For all that she was messed-up, she was a bright girl, and while she kept her expression neutral, the gears in her head were turning fast. What had she left behind? The witness statements. Her accent - she should never have said anything, there couldn't be that many New Yorkers around. No fingerprints, that was what the gloves were for, but...
The gloves. Shit. She really, really hoped the messy stitching on her palm wasn't obvious.