Shana finally roused herself enough to acknowledge Phil’s presence. She looked him up and down, grunted once, then swung her attention to her sister.

“I like that color,” Shana announced. “Pretty shade of blue. That cashmere?”

“How are you feeling?” Adeline asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Do you think I still ask questions just to be polite?”

“I think you wish you were anywhere but here right now. I think you wish you weren’t adopted, and that doctor was your birth father, and you really were an only child.”

Adeline made a show of glancing at her watch. “A lot of self-pity for first thing in the morning,” she observed mildly.

“Fuck you,” Shana said, but the words lacked heat, instead sounding dispirited. The depression, D.D. figured. She hadn’t considered it before, but dejection made sense. The root of most rage was self-loathing.

Adeline finally moved. She pushed away from the door and calmly approached the table, moving around Phil until she could slide out the second chair and take a seat. The move forced Shana to confront both parties and, for the first time, truly consider Phil.

He remained silent, his face a study in patience. D.D. liked it. Draw the target out. Make Shana do all the work.

“How long you been a detective?” Shana asked abruptly.

“Twenty years.”

“Why?”

“Good job.”

“You like violence?”

“No. Personally, I’m a big fan of hands are for hugging.”

Phil’s easy admission seemed to throw Shana. She frowned again.

“You research me? You know what I did?”

“Yes.”

“Think I’m guilty?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you’re not stupid.”

“Do you like violence?” Phil asked her.

“Sure. All the time. What’s not to love?”

“Prison,” he said.

She gave an unexpected bark of laughter. “Sure as hell got that right. Then again, plenty of violence in here. In here, hands are for hitting. Or shanking. Personally, I prefer a quality homemade blade. My weapon of choice.”

“Then why are you trying to escape?”

“Who said I’m escaping?”

Phil gestured to her hand, still bandaged from the IV needle. “Cutting yourself, nearly bleeding out. Sounds like a woman trying to escape to me.”

“Nah. You heard wrong. Cutting isn’t about the future. It’s about enjoying the here and now. You look like a family man. The right age to have at least one or two teenagers. Ask your daughter about it sometime. How good it feels to watch the razor slide beneath your skin. Like masturbation. Bet she can tell you all about it.”

Phil leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. “Who scares you, Shana?” he asked quietly. “Who do you know, what happened, to make a woman as tough as you slice open your own veins?”

The bluntness of the question surprised D.D. It seemed to catch Shana off guard as well.