The detective reaches into his pocket and slams my dagger on the table. I stare at its four-inch diamond blade as if I’ve never seen it before. I could easily kill this man just by moving my eyes from the blade to his neck, but I need to free Sam first. “What’s this for, John? Why would you need a knife like this?”

“I don’t know what knives like that are for, sir. Whittling?”

He picks up his notepad and pencil. “Why don’t you tell me what happened in Tennessee.”

“Never been,” I say. “I hear it’s a nice place, though. Maybe I’ll visit when I’m out of here, take a tour, see the sites. Any suggestions?”

He nods, tosses the notepad onto the table, and then launches the pencil at me. I deflect it without lifting a finger, sending it bouncing against the wall; but the detective doesn’t notice, and leaves through the steel door with the tablet and my dagger.

Soon I’m shoved back into my old cell. I have to get out of here.

“Sam?” I yell.

The guard who’s been sitting outside my cell jumps off his chair and swings the nightstick at my fingers. I let go of the bars just before they’re crushed.

“Shut up!” he orders, pointing his nightstick at me.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” I ask. Getting him inside my cell sounds like a pretty good option.

“I could give a damn, peewee. But if you keep it up, you’re gonna regret it real fast.”

“You couldn’t hit me if you tried; I’m too quick and you’re too fat.”

The guard chuckles. “Why don’t you just sit back on your bed and shut your mouth, huh?”

“You know I can kill you any time I want to, right? Without even lifting a finger.”

“Oh yeah?” he replies. The guard steps forward. His breath smells rancid, like stale coffee. “What’s stopping you then?”

“Apathy and a broken heart,” I say. “Both of those will go away eventually, though, and that’s when I’ll just get up and leave.”

“I can hardly wait, Houdini,” he says.

I’m extremely close to taunting him inside, and as soon as he unlocks the door, Sam and I are as good as free.

“You know who you look like?” I ask.

“Tell me,” he says.

I turn around and bend over.

“That’s it, punk!” The guard reaches for a control panel on the wall, and as he’s stomping towards the door of my cell, an earsplitting blast rattles the entire jail. The guard stumbles into the bars and smacks his forehead, falling to his knees. I drop and instinctively roll beneath the bed. Pandemonium erupts—yells and gunshots, clanking metal, and loud bangs. An alarm goes off, and a blue light flashes in the corridor.