“I don’t know.”
She sets the bloody cotton aside on a dish, hand resting on my arm.
“ I promise I’ll find out as soon as I can. Right now, you need to focus on you. We’ll handle this together. I won’t let you fall.”
She helps me pack my things. My body feels drained from everything that’s happened, but having Erin here makes a difference. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Chapter thirty-seven
Tom
I’m chained to the interrogation table. My wrists are handcuffed, hooked to an iron ring right in the middle. Fucking brilliant.
The AC is cranked so high the room feels like a butcher shop. Sixteen degrees, maybe colder. And here I am, dressed only in a tank top and shorts, same as yesterday.
They always make it colder than necessary. Intimidation tactic number one: freeze the suspect, see if he breaks.
Well, not this guy. My last name is McKenna. We break for no one, we escalate. Then we end up in green rooms like this.
Not the usual one backstage with alcohol and bad catering. This one’s government-issued. Moldy green.
I can feel my life expectancy dropping by the minute.
God, I could use a hot shower, something to wash the taste of steel out of my mouth.
Every muscle in my body is tight.
Could be the adrenaline. Or the cold. Maybe I got whiplash from hitting that tree yesterday. Most likely it’s the punch I took this morning.
Things had gone exactly as I’d planned. Well, almost exactly.
That fucking punch sent me flying a solid two metres.
Crashing into Yosh hadn’t been part of it. I’d meant to fake the fall, make it look dramatic enough that he had to give me first aid on the spot. Would’ve been the perfect move to swap the cups without too much fuss.
But hey, it worked. And honestly? Not the worst place to land.
I try moving my neck, it’s stiff as hell.
Great. Right now, all I really need is Yosh’s hands. His fingers pressing into my muscles, working out the knots, warming me up, melting away the pain.
The happy ending too. Obviously.
The door opens, two officers step in. They go and sit on the other side of the table.
The first guy’s a brick wall, the type you absolutely don’t want to fuck with.
He’s basically every bouncer at an Amsterdam coffee shop who throws you out for sounding too yankee.
The second guy looks more serious. He nudges his glasses up his nose as he opens a file.
Textbook Good Cop, Bad Cop.
It’s not my first time in a room like this. Small space, white walls, mirrored glass.
Feels almost nostalgic.
I lean back as far as the chain lets me, my eyes on the two of them. They stare back. Seconds pass.
