Why was Hansel here?
The question kept circling through my mind as the officer led me through the narrow hallway and into the lobby of the police station. My wrists ached where the handcuffs had been digging in for hours, and every part of my body felt heavy with exhaustion and confusion and a bone-deep despair that came from having absolutely nothing left.
But Hansel was here. In the middle of the night. Looking at me with an expression I couldn't read before he'd turned and walked away, as my presence irritated him.
But none of that mattered because the question was still, why was Hansel here?
Ahead of me, I saw the hospital director, that awful man Pete, who'd looked at me with such contempt when he'd told me about Mom's death, leaning over a desk with a smile on his face, scribbling something. Beside him stood the Police Chief.
They both looked oddly relaxed, compared to earlier when I'd been thrown into a cell like a common thief.
