27
Amie let out a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t the first time. She felt sure it wasn’t even the hundredth time. There was little else to do in her cell other than sigh and stare.
Her solicitor had assured her she had very little to worry about, and that the police were just fishing. She wanted to believe him — she desperately wanted to trust every word — but she was starting to feel sure that she’d been deliberately set up.
After all, it wasn’t the first time. The same had happened when Russell died. If she was honest with herself, she still struggled to get over that. Even the coroner’s report said it had been an accident. She could still recall the interview room, the way the officers had looked at her. It was almost as if she were a zoo exhibit rather than a human b
