The woman
in the middle was wearing a medical uniform.
Her hair was tied back.
Her face was young, serious, and unmistakably familiar.
Sergeant Reese looked at the photograph.
Then he looked at me.
Then back at the photograph.
His expression changed, but only slightly.
“That’s an old picture,” he said.
“Yes.”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
I reached into my purse.
This time, I took out my visitor’s pass.
I placed it on the table beside my empty water glass.
My photograph was on it.
My name was printed
