The holding cell was cold. Concrete walls. A steel bench bolted to the floor. A toilet with no seat in the corner.
I sat on the bench, arms wrapped around myself, trying to stop shaking. My feet were wrapped in fresh bandages from the clinic upstairs, but they still throbbed with every heartbeat.
Marcus was in the hospital. Anna was somewhere in this building, probably being debriefed. Julian was in another cell down the hall. David had been released hours ago—he wasn't part of the "active situation," whatever that meant.
The door opened.
Detective Morrison walked in. She looked tired. The kind of tired that comes from working cases that keep you up at night.
"Your friend Anna is with her son," she said. "Kid's okay. Scared, but okay. They're releasing her in the morning."
"And Julia
