Interrogation
Detective Brady looked at the woman sitting across the table. She was staring down at the scratched, beat-up, filthy table top. After twenty years of police interrogations of some of the worst scum of the earth criminals the city had to offer up, the table was covered with their filth. She stared at it, but left her hands in her lap as if she was scared to death she would pick up some disease if she touched anything in this room. Her eyes darted around and she saw the peeling paint on the...