I’D COUNTED THROUGH another two-thousand eight-hundred and forty-two seconds of ticking and my eyelids had started to feel like a couple of lead shutters, when the door to the interview room swung open again.
Forcing my head and my lids upward, I focused on the blurry figure, until Tanner’s face rounded into a pissed off sharpness, and I wished I hadn’t bothered and just left him looking like a blob. Pushing up from the table, I rubbed hard at my face, while Tanner stalked to the corner of the room and propped himself in the corner, folded his arms over his chest.
“Don’t get up on my account,” he grumble-growled at Andrea, as she started gathering her things.
Ignoring him, she pushed everything across the table and rounded to sit by me, and a couple of beats later, Bletchley filled the
