At eighteen thirty hours, I stood in a dark observation room.

Officer Marcus leaned against the wall beside me, clicking his silver pen over and over.

We watched the interrogation through a wide pane of glass.

The audio came through a small black speaker above our heads.

The room on the other side was bright white.

Derek sat in a bolted metal chair in a tropical print shirt and khaki shorts.

He hadn’t shaved since they got off the ship.