CHAPTER 8
It was simple kindnesses — like being able to use a real restroom instead of squatting over the pail in the corner of her cell — that convinced Kennedy everything would be fine.
A full day must have passed so far. Maybe more. At one point, she managed to sleep curled up on the floor of her dank cell. She woke up with a sore throat and stiff joints, but she encouraged herself with the thought that today she would be set free.
There was no way the Chinese were brazen enough to hold her here another twenty-four hours.
Hak-Kun, the young guard she’d been assigned after her interrogator was finished with her, asked all sorts of questions about her time on the East Coast. Apparently, he was obsessed with American baseball. It was hard to tell what made him more disappointed, that s
