It seemed to Phoebe that she’d been in the tiny interrogation room for hours, but, once again, she had no way to clock the passing time. Unlike the one she’d been in before, this room didn’t have a one-way window or mirror. Just a sliding panel over a barred window in the door and another barred window to the outside world. Maybe, she wondered, it’s the one they put people in when they planned to kick their butt.
She tried sitting down, tried pacing, considered banging on the door, but she had a little pride left, so she settled for leaning against the grubby wall and staring through the bars at the even grubbier alley and the tiny patch of night sky showing between two tall buildings. The ice pack had lost its chill, so she tossed it onto the table.
Full circle. The past had met the pre
