17
I sucked in a deep breath, doing my damnedest to control the tics trying to outbreak across my face. On the exhale, I considered my options.
Keep talking. Hell, if lucky, I could probably dig myself one hell of a hole I’d never climb back out of.
Or shut the f**k up. Worst that could do was convince the two detectives I had plenty to hide and have them labelling me as guilty as Bundy.
What a f*****g choice.
I’d no idea what the duo opposite saw in my face, but they seemed to be taking it all in. Tanner with his hard-edged stare and grim-set mouth, once more leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest—a usually defeatist gesture making him appear even tougher to c***k. Next to him, Bletchley rested his elbows on the table, hands folded, his composed face offering a
