Carcel sat, a solid, dark shape behind the desk. The lamplight carved his face from the shadows, making his cheekbones look sharp, his eyes dark, unreadable pools. He was expecting straight to the point questions. He was not expecting this.
"Questions?" he asked. The word sounded flat, almost stupid, in the quiet room.
Ines nodded, her entire demeanor transformed. The terrified, cornered woman from that morning was gone. The flustered, embarrassed girl from the hallway was gone. In her place was a woman on a mission. She was bright, focused, and terrifyingly eager.
"Yes, questions!" she said, her voice a happy, confidential whisper. "You said you would help. You said you would tell me. So... I prepared."
Carcel's gaze dropped from her face to the single sheet of paper clutched in her hand. It was, he noted with a sinking, hollow feeling, covered from top to bottom in her neat, precise handwriting.
