with the other guard walking in front of them.
“That’s Powell,” Fischer said casually. “He’s an even bigger asshole than I am. He was reassigned especially for you.”
“You mean I have more to look forward to than a broken face?”
Fischer stopped short. “Oh, much more.” He pressed a finger to her cheek, trailing it down toward her jaw. He laughed when she winced. “You’re still not all that bad to look at.”
Powell frowned. “Don’t press it, man. You know the procedure with her.”
Fischer’s smile faded as he continued yanking her down the hall. “Powell here’s a stickler for obedience. He’s got seniority so I have to listen to him.”
She was punchy enough to feel a little bolder than usual. “So, do you just blindly follow authority, respecting it even if it’s been gained through illegal means? Or did you take this job so that you could finally act out your childhood bully fantasies?”
Fischer yanked her by the wrists, which hurt. Her handcuffs were again too tight.
“I don’t need lectures on morality from a criminal who hacked into a classified database,” he said.
Caroline started to say something, then snapped her mouth shut. Her resistance had weakened and he knew it. She’d almost given him one of the pieces to the puzzle the government wanted to solve. They reached a small interrogation room. Powell unlocked the door and Fischer pushed Caroline inside, shoving her into one of the metal chairs.
He grinned down at her. His teeth were yellow. She’d never noticed that before. “Here we go.”
Caroline stared down at her nails. She’d gotten a manicure the week before she and Jack had to run. A petty priority at such a stressful time but she’d done it to convince herself that life still had a bit of normalcy to it. All things considered, it was in pretty decent shape. She held her hands out, admiring the work of the manicurist. Blood red nails. She used to think the polish was sexy. Alluring. Confident. Now it looked morbid. She smiled anyway, still feeling punchy.
“This color looks good on me, don’t you think?” she asked Powell.
Caroline thought she saw the corner of his mouth turn up briefly, but he quickly regained his composure. He didn’t say a word. She’d hoped for a response, a little bit of interaction from someone she had yet to fully despise. She was sure he’d find a way to get there, though.
Shit. Her mask of indifference wasn’t working. She brought her hands back down on the table, the outline of her wedding rings still visible on her left ring finger. She clenched her hand into a fist, trying to obscure the indentations and all the memories that came along with them. A lousy approach, since the first image that came to mind was one of Jack and Marguerite laughing as a tiara-wearing Sophie twirled Caroline’s rings off and paraded around the living room in their house in Rockville, joking that she was going to run away and live like a queen with mommy’s sparklies.
Caroline closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. She needed to think of a better strategy for clearing her mind.
Fischer undid her cuffs, producing a bottle of water she hadn’t noticed before. It appeared to be unopened. “You’re probably thirsty,” he said to Caroline.
Her thirst could never be slaked. Drinking from the sink in her cell proved difficult. Her stomach had stopped growling days ago, too hungry to churn. She reached for the bottle and Fischer held it out of her reach.
“That’s for me.” He grabbed it and downed it in three short gulps, then crunched the bottle up in his fist. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you want some of this?” He laughed at Caroline’s expression as he settled into a chair in the corner of the room. “I think one of my supervisors is bringing you something a bit more refreshing. And don’t try anything.”
Caroline had gotten way beyond that. Part of her knew she was doomed but the other part of her, the part that held out hope that someone somewhere would get her out of this despicable place, knew that she had to remain in somewhat decent physical condition. And broken bones really fucking hurt. She heard footsteps coming down the hall.
Powell took the seat next to Fischer. “He’s coming.”
Fischer smiled. “It will be a fun day.”
The man entered the room without fanfare. He had a ratlike face but wore a tailored business suit. Not terribly well made but nicer than most, so he must have