The holding cell was colder than Ken expected, sterile, echoing, the kind of cold that crawled under skin and settled deep. He sat at the metal table, wrists free but pride shackled, jaw tight with frustration. The fluorescent lights hummed above, their pale glow casting harsh shadows across the cinderblock walls.
The door buzzed.
And to his relief, a guard led Bella in. He had worried that she would get mixed up in this farce and get arrested also, he would not have been able to forgive himself if she had gotten in trouble because of him.
She stepped through briskly, her heels clicking on the linoleum. Her hair was slightly damp from the rain; her blouse wrinkled, her purse slung carelessly over one shoulder. She looked tired, but determined.
Ken's shoulders eased for the first time since the arrest. "Bella."
"Ken." She sank into the chair opposite him, exhaling. "Took them long enough."
