I cracked the door open and looked down the hallway.

The walls were painted a dull hospital green.

At the far end, I heard voices.

“She isn’t talking, Sheriff,” a voice said.

It was Deputy Miller, a young guy who owed his job to the Reed family.

“She will,” Wade’s voice replied, heavy and raspy.

“Margaret wants this cleaned up tonight.”

“We don’t have all night,” Wade said.

I crept down the hallway, keeping my back to the wall.

The door to the interrogation room was slightly ajar.

I peered through the crack.

Sophia was tied to a metal chair in the center of the room.

Her lip was cut, and her uniform was torn at the shoulder.

But her eyes were bright, glaring at Wade who stood over her with a folder.

“Where is Daniel?” Wade asked her.

Sophia spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor near his boots.

“Go to hell, Thomas,” she said.

Wade raised his hand to strike her again.

I didn’t wait.

I kicked the door open, the wood splintering against the frame.

Miller turned, his hand reaching for his holster.