Words in the NightBoth of them were taken to separate holding cells. They'd been there for hours. Little water passed their lips, and a lot less food. Designed to break them. It usually worked.
Bremen was on duty and this time of night always made him feel agitated, a little afraid. What happened back at Manchester barracks didn't help. What he saw there. He shivered in his thin jacket, wished the station house had the resources to power the heating, and longed to be home in bed, asleep.
The lime-green walls of the squad room pressed in around him and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He took a pull on his last cigarette, stared at the burning end like he wished it was his first and stubbed it out in the ashtray. Miller studied him from the other side of the desk and frowned.
“I of
