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SEVENTY FOUR
The detention centre was a simple one. It held two barred cells, each with a makeshift bed with a thin woolly blanket and a standalone sink. The walls were all painted a depressing dull grey with only a little square window at the top of each cell. Amber gulped as she stepped forward towards a desk where an intimidating female police officer sat, going through her files.
“Name?” the officer asked, not looking up.
“Amber Banks,” Amber answered, her bright green eyes darting back and forth taking in her grim surrounding. The officer nodded as she pressed a stamp onto Amber’s file.
Fabian was outside the detention centre with his attorney, trying to get Amber out on bail but she had a feeling that chances were slim. After all, who would let a murder suspect out on bail?
“Age?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Hun, you gotta speak louder. You’re as soft as a mouse!”
Amber jumped a litt
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