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Taylor, Balon, and Whitaker, the three of them together, reentered the interrogation room. Aubrey Taylor in the lead with a box of donuts; Keith Balon with coffee for Aubrey and him; Finally, James Whitaker with coffee for Caldwell and himself. “Sorry,” he joked to the officer who guarded the suspect in their absence. “I’m afraid you will have to go out yourself to get your portion of caffeine.”
“I’ll be fine, James,” the officer said. “Do you still need me here?”
“You may go,” Aubrey said, waving her hand.
“Mr. Caldwell … Larry …,” she began. “Donuts?”
“Please, I’ve been here for a while.”
“I know. Sorry about that.Um …” She tickled behind her ears. “We have talked for a while. And um… Maybe you’re right Larry. Is it alright if I call you Larry?”
“My pleasure,” Larry Caldwell ba
