“Be cooperative, and I’ll see what I can do,” she says as she walks around the corner. Walking up to me with a team behind her.
“Hands behind your head, and on your knees,” she shouts. I felt them before I saw them.
I do as told.
She walks up to me.
I stare into her eyes as she grabs my arms, and then break my gaze as she brings them behind my back, and handcuffs me—again.
I am lifted up, quite roughly.
She pushes me out of the alley to where several black GMC full-size SUVs are blocking the sidewalk and parts of the street.
The door is opened for me.
There is one moment where Shaw leans in on me.
I turn my head over my shoulder and whisper to her.
“19 Prospect Park West, do it now, or she’ll be gone.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. It is one look. One nod with her eyes alone.
And then, I am shoved in the car.
I am taken into holding.
There I wait.
I count and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
In my mind, I am already checking out the circuits, the system, and the possible ways to break out. There aren’t many. The only thing I am left with is the paperclip in my shoe and the USB drive I got for my contact, which is safely stored in my bra—at least for the time being.
Finally, the door opens.
Reid Shaw enters.
Her look tells me everything.
My face falls in horror.
“No,” escapes my mouth. Because the hat—I need the hat.
“Sit down,” she tells me, and points at the table in the interrogation room.
But I can’t sit down.
My mind is freaking out.
My head twitches unwillingly.
I need to remove the sensation. The feeling. The images?—
But it doesn’t go away.
