(Reese)
The room wasn't bad.
That was the problem. It wasn't a cell, wasn't cold, wasn't stripped bare like somewhere you put people you didn't care about. There was a bed, a lamp on low, a chair near the window with a cushion on it. Someone had thought about the details.
That made it harder to be angry about.
I sat on the edge of the bed with my bag on the floor beside me and tried to count how long Noah had been in that back room. I didn't have a number. Long enough that the hall had gone quiet. Long enough that the voices I'd heard earlier had dropped to nothing.
Kane was still outside the door.
I knew because I could hear him on the phone, his voice low and even through the wall. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't moving around. He was just there, the way Noah had told him to be.
Right
