"Whatever. You're getting out," the cop said.
Hal stood and walked over to the door, and the cop let him out of the cage. He followed the man out to a big room filled with desks and a few police, the night shift. As they hadn't given him any clothes to wear, he was standing there in his black shorts, and that's all. The room went quiet as people turned to stare at him.
It used to bother him how curious people were about the scars and burns, the visible signs of torture and pain he carried, but now he just ignored them. Sam was sitting with her back to him at one of the desks, talking to a female detective. She seemed okay for now. They'd given her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders.
Standing a short distance behind Sam was his handler. Karl Gunderman was a man in his sixties who loo
