once. But she’d survived the first day. Had it been only a day? Surely she hadn’t been unconscious for longer than that. She had no concept of time. It had been cold outside when they brought her in, with snow piled up outside the entrance to the building. So it was still winter. It couldn’t have been too long. If it had been months and months, she would have withered away to nothing in that hospital bed. But it had to have been at least a week or two. Which meant it was…still February?
Late winter. A depressing season. The least pleasant part of the year. And she now had a rough idea of the time period in which she was inevitably either going to die or be tortured. How comforting. Caroline touched her nose. Broken again. Cheekbone too. Pain was becoming yet another part of whatever routine she had right now. And this routine – whether it lasted one day or ten – sucked.
She smiled despite her aching head. She’d fucked with them. And it had driven them nuts. Howard tried to remain detached but she got Bradbury to lose his temper. She doubted very much that they were supposed to beat the shit out of her on the first day. Not that she knew how these things worked.
She used a trick a friend of hers had taught her. Deflection, avoidance, whatever you wanted to call it. A play on one of the techniques that American prisoners of war used under enemy interrogation. To the best of her knowledge, none of them had trolled their captors using their extensive familiarity with the life and times of Adlai Stevenson. So she got points for originality, even if she ended up fumbling the dismount.
Would they try to interrogate her again? They had to know it wouldn’t accomplish much. In hindsight, she probably should have looked at the papers they claimed she’d stolen. They may have been documents she’d actually obtained. But giving in, mulling them over, showing any sort of reaction…they intended to judge her response. They didn’t need to know whether she’d actually committed any of the acts alleged against her. They wanted to measure her emotions. Hound her into letting something slip. Guilt, innocence, or a complicated blend of the two were irrelevant.
The mattress was hard, but the lack of a pillow wasn’t a terrible development. Her face hurt no matter how much padding was under it. She closed her eyes. Maybe they would leave her alone. Let her sleep in her cell. Such thoughts were foolish, but they were all she had. She just had to stay focused.
God willing, she could keep her damn mouth shut.
Chapter Ten
The Past
Jack guided her through the throng of cameras until they reached her office door. He’d been fussing over her all morning, kindly failing to mention her trembling hand during the walk from the parking garage into Rayburn. The distance seemed further than she remembered.
He turned to smile at her. “Ready?”
She stared at the door. At the plaque bearing her name, riveted to the wall. At a piece of nonexistent lint on her jacket. Why was she so damn nervous?
“Let’s do this,” she said.
Her left arm was still in a sling and probably would be for another week or two. She needed to work on repairing the muscle damage but the cast was finally gone. Given her propensity to gesticulate wildly while speaking, her surgeon thought it was best to play it safe and keep her immobile for a while longer.
Only having one good arm was a pain. She managed to get her thigh highs on that morning with a lot of help from Jack, but most personal tasks were difficult. And she still couldn’t get her contacts in. Jack assured her that her glasses made her look like a sexy librarian, and readily volunteered to keep helping when it came to her undergarments. What a thoughtful guy.
Despite her churning stomach, Caroline was thrilled to return to work. She still had a few misgivings; reporters trailed their car from her house all the way to Capitol Hill. She was chagrined that they were so forward as to hide out near her private residence, and may have complained several times during the commute. Her ability to lead a relatively quiet life was over. Jen and Kathleen repeatedly warned her in the waning days of summer but she failed to listen. She just hoped that the journalists would fade away after a couple of days.