Chapter 32
The hard plastic chair hurt Anne’s hips, her spine, the backs of her thighs. And the room was cold, so cold her bones were aching. The baggy cotton dress and sandals were fine out in the sun, but this place felt like a meat locker.
Anne shifted again, trying to find an unbruised place anywhere on her body. She didn’t think there were any left. The officers had left the room again, but she knew someone would be watching her. There had to be cameras, and that huge mirror certainly had people on the other side.
She’d seen one of the cops glance at it way too many times when they were asking her endless questions.
The door opened slowly, and Anne cringed back against the awful chair, the bones she was sitting on crying out in protest. More questions, more accusations, more thing
