Michael
James' expression is stricken. "Will... Georgie... My daughter... I have to..."
"No!" Stanton stabs a finger at him again, eyes white-rimmed against his dark skin. "Not until I've gotten to the bottom of what's happened this evening."
James sits, resting his face into his hands. I lay a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs me away.
Stanton turns, aiming the finger at the officer covering Klempner. "Lopez, don't relax with that one. He has a track record of escape."
"Sir!" The gun muzzle raises from the room corner to point toward Klempner.
He stands close by the hearth, by the heat. Mitch is right. He looks like he's been through a war. His face is bruised, swelling in places, and long scratches seep blood on one cheek. His clothes are bloodstained and drenched, steaming in th
