CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ilse had never much liked squares, nor the number one. Combining the two was beginning to get very old. And yet that’s where they found themselves, smack dab back at the start. The Thompsons were still being held on suspicion of soliciting minors, but this charge, even, looked unlikely to stick.
Ilse shifted uncomfortably, watching where Sawyer leaned against the wall, speaking on the phone. Foot traffic in the police station had long since decided that avoiding this hall, for the moment, was the better route to take. Sawyer’s voice was getting louder now, and he stalked up and down outside the closed interrogation room door.
“Right now,” Tom was saying. “In my guest suite. Yes—he’s under arrest. For what? For what?” Sawyer glanced at Ilse, shrugging once, his expression
