That refusal, more than any evidence, is the thing I am proudest of from that night.
His face twisted, and he pulled a small glass vial of dark liquid from his coat, and I kept him talking — because every second he talked was another second of clean audio for the officers I knew were close.
“Do you know how easy it was to turn Mireille?” He laughed, ugly.
“Five minutes.
She was so hungry to feel needed again that five minutes was all it took.
We made a good team, she and I.”