Chapter Twelve
There I was again, sisters and brothers, in a bleak and barren interview room – being stared at by, not a bored city bull but, for a change of pace, a bored county sheriff's deputy – in the sleepy community of Barrelton, Wisconsin. Well, sleepy until now. The stabbing, strangulation, and b****y mutilation of Sybil had awakened it. At least that part of it that represented the law. A full bottle of aspirin stood in the middle of the otherwise empty table – untouched. I would have loved to imbibe but, being allergic to most pain killers, couldn't. I sat holding a bag of ice on my splitting (and nearly split) head waiting to die, hoping to go to heaven, while a humorless sheriff somewhere in the building prepared for his return and another round of questioning designed to drag
