Most people would have cried.
Most people would have begged.
Claire Bennett was not most people.
Her eyes tracked every hand, every pocket, every badge, every shove of furniture, every place a flashlight lingered too long or not long enough.
Kessler grabbed her purse from the nightstand.
He unzipped it.
His movements were almost casual.
Too casual.
Claire watched his fingers dip into the side pocket. Watched his wrist turn the wrong way. Watched him slide something in before he pulled it back out.
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A tiny plastic bag.
White powder inside.
He held it up in the beam like a prize fish.
“Well, look at that.”
Claire stared at him.
Then she gave the smallest smile.
Not because anything was funny.
