“Go though it for me again.”
I was glad Cyril had been given the task of interviewing me. He was making it as easy as possible. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I just wanted to sleep for a week.
“Which part?” I asked wearily. I scrubbed my hands over my face and tried to sit up a little straighter. I knew that if Cyr was asking, it had to be important, but had trouble keeping myself focused.
I hadn’t seen Wes for more than a couple of minutes—long enough to get a tight hug and a kiss and for him to make sure I was okay—before agents herded me into the interrogation room on the third floor. I could tell by Cyr’s relaxed pose, the way the door stayed open, and by the way people wandered in and out, that I wasn’t in trouble. And even though I knew it was necessary, it bord
