CHAPTER 114
Calla sat in a familiar, featureless interrogation room with her arms folded and head bowed. Across from her, Detective Beitch stared down at his notepad, as if the answers he sought would somehow come flying off the page. Every once in a while, he would pick up his pen and circle one of the names on that piece of paper. Over and over and over again, until the ink had begun to bleed through, destroying the pages behind it. VENUS UPTON "You mean to tell me," Detective Beitch started, the harsh lines of his face thrown into stark contrast by the overhead light, "that there is nothing at all familiar about this scene?" He slid a glossy picture across the table. Calla had seen it already, had seen it when he'd first shoved it under her nose to try and elicit a reaction from her.
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