Chapter Twenty-Six
A moment of clarity.
Being on the wrong side of a cell door was an odd experience. In my time as a cop, I’d sent plenty of scumbags to the lockup, but I’d never personally experienced the panic of being enclosed in a small space that way. It was as humbling as it was suffocating, but the tight quarters weren’t the worst of it.
It had been an intense forty-eight hours of questioning.
First, there was the Police, a series of them, led by a grey-haired man who seemed hardened like he’d seen too much and trusted nothing. Probably he had, and he didn’t. He was snappy and intense, slamming his hands on the desk in an effort to intimidate the truth out of me. When he grew tired or frustrated, his partner would take over. Partner might be the wrong term. The second officer s
