“A part of her wanted to do nothing but break down and sob. Another part of her wasn't sure she'd ever be able to cry again, or if she'd ever have reason to. If she couldn't come to real tears over this, the most horrific experience of her twenty-seven years . . . Her eyes stung. It was impossible to blink. But still there was nothing. No reaction. Just nothing. Here she was alone, momentarily safe, yet none of the tears that had welled before would come.She supposed the mind-racing processes of... logic and reasoning had squashed all emotional response. And then she snorted. At least they could've put out some effort to answering her number one burning question. Who the hell was Tripp Shaughnessey? She'd only begun to ponder all the possibilities when she heard a quiet scratching against the ceiling tiles overhead. She brought her gaze up slowly, remained absolutely still but for her eyes that searched the mirror's reflection of the small room behind. A ceiling tile shifted, dislodged from the frame.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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