CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Curly AccusationsKit sighed with satisfaction as her head hit the pillow. Hours of glorious sleep stretched before her, undisturbed by the phone alarm, which would frighten the entire police station in three hours unless Lane had deactivated it. She stretched out each of her muscles in turn, hoping to achieve a state of mindfulness which would send her brain to the same point of exhaustion as her body. Sleep claimed her between flexing the toes of her left foot and her right, plunging her into a cardboard garage filled with corpses.
Darkness still surrounded her when she woke with a start two hours later. Sitting bolt upright in bed, she gulped for air and pressed a hand against her chest. Her heart hammered fast enough to dim her vision into a series of bright spots
