Lady Stephens cried for half an hour, cried herself tired, cried herself hoarse, and sat listlessly on the office sofa, her face haggard as if she had suddenly aged a lot.
She kept her head down, her disheveled long hair hanging down, and teardrops kept rolling off her chin.
The winter night was exceptionally cold, the air conditioning at the police station couldn't get warm, and after sitting for a while, her legs and feet were numb. Edward Stephens fetched a cup of hot water from the water dispenser and handed it to his mother.
"Drink this cup of water and go home with the driver," Edward told her. "If you stay any longer, you'll catch a cold."
Lady Stephens slowly raised her head; her eyes were swollen, red like two walnuts. She asked him hoarsely, "And what about you?"
Edward stood in front of her, his face expressionless in the twilight, as pale as snow, appearing calm yet cold under the light. Edward lit a cigarette, using the nicotine to calm himself: "Waiting for news."
