He was about to slip away again when the steel door opened with a harsh metallic sound that made him wince. His eyes tried to adjust to the light, but...he heard the voice before he saw the man. ‘You ready to talk Sean?’ The man asked. ‘Cmon Scar you know the answer.’ Sean had decided to call this man Scar, not because of identifiable marks on his face, but because he was the only man who didn’t have any. Sean had figured out this man was in charge, at least of his interrogation. The man was. .." "...get to my apartment." "...get to the train." "Are you OK?" "Are you all right?" Hearing their own words echo out of the other's mouth struck them both as funny, and they began to laugh. Rachel walked over to the man and helped him to his feet. His arm had scraped along the curb as he fell, tearing his suit jacket and shirt sleeve and, she could now see, the skin of his left arm, too. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "Are you OK?" He looked ruefully at his arm. "I think the jacket got it. More

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