I pulled my pants up over my hips, and slipped my camisole over my head. I debated about donning the corresponding suit jacket, but decided against it. There was a chill in the air, but warm clothing would offer me no solace; the freeze that crept through my bones was one of exhaustion and doom. I had slept like a rock, the drugs ensured I would, but I was woken before the ass crack of dawn by the two detectives who were eagerly awaiting the chance to rattle me again. They had arranged for me to retrieve my vehicle and belongings from the farm. How kind. The two officers that had been guarding my hospital room would accompany me, due to the fact that it was still an active crime scene. Sure. Translation: ‘we want to check you...
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