Those words he had heard, as Mark lay prostrate outside Katty’s cell door that night still haunted him. “God forgive me. My babies. What have I done?” He still heard the pain in her voice, sensed the tears and the choking. He could almost visualize her as she lay just inside the cell door. Him on the outside and her just on the inside. Only a metal cell door between them. Separating them.
God forgive me. My babies. What have I done?He wiped his eyes and pounded the steering wheel.
“What, God?” Mark sucked in a ragged breath. “It’s not cool to cry on duty. Not cool to be so attached, er attracted to … a woman … who spent time in jail.” He shook his head and turned a corner. What was he thinking? He’d been in trouble. He must be driving in circles. No route. No plan. No calls over the radi
