THE TRUTH BLEEDS OUT
The basement interrogation rooms were colder than I remembered.
Or maybe it was just the knowledge of what we were about to do. The questions we would ask. The truths we force into daylight no matter how much blood it took to extract them.
Three rooms. Three suspects. Three people who had access to our home in the past two weeks.
Marco Santini in room one. Daniel Cross-the young security guard who had been at the museum with us today-in room two. And Vincent Torres, one of the building maintenance staff, in room three.
"We start with Marco," Dante said. "He is the most experienced. If he's guilty, he'll be the hardest to crack. But also the most likely to make a mistake under pressure."
I nodded, my throat tight. Part of me still hoped Marco was innocent. That th
