“That poor girl.”

“Pff. Poor girl, my ass.” He issued her a grunt.

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He stood and searched the light fixture, the corners where walls met the ceiling, and under the beds.

Julia watched him as he worked, unsure she understood what he was doing. He’d tell her when he was done.

He stood, swayed, and put his hand on the wall. “I guess the aspirin hasn’t kicked in yet.” He plopped down on the bed and looked at the door.

“I give up. What were you doing?”

“Looking for bugs.”

“Bugs?”

“Yeah, but the way technology is these days.” His hand rubbed the welt on his chest. “The audio-video stuff is so miniaturized there could be a hundred of them in here, and we’d never know.”

“Oh, that kind of bug. You think they’re watching us?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Did you take a good look at Seeta?”

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“She’s been through a lot.”

He bobbed his head left and right.

“You don’t think so. You don’t trust her?”

“Both. Trust is earned, not given out like candy.”

Her hand went up to her face. “You trust me?”

“You’ve earned it.” He smirked.

“Thanks.” Her hand lifted in a mock salute. “But Seeta hasn’t? Why not?”

“She looks way too good.”

“Explain. She’s pretty bruised up.”

“Yes, she is. To me, it looked superficial, but I’m no expert. Did you ever see her wince once or show any pain when she moved her hands and wrists or while she was speaking? All that bruising on her arms and face and nothing. That’s the bruises we can see. What’s under her pajamas? Again, no painful movement.”

“She’s used to it?”

“Okay. How about her hair?”

“There was blood clotted in it.”

“But the rest of it was clean. And what about her body? She’s normal thin. She’s not starving. What is this Club Fed? She gets three hot meals, medicine for her boo boo’s, and exercise time on the helipad. It doesn’t add up.”

“Why take her out? Why not leave her in here with us?”

“That’s a good question. To elicit sympathy from us when she comes back, all banged up. Make us more likely to trust her.”

“But, you think she’s helping them?”

Mike shrugged.

“You think Stockholm Syndrome?”

He sniffed. “That’s one possibility. All I do know is the math isn’t right. Maybe I’m wrong, but she’s not right.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“Screwed. The only thing I can think of is they’re relying on her to get some answers out of us. Where are Tom and Al? Why are we here? When she doesn’t produce the answers, it will get worse.”

“Worse?”

“Torture time.”

Julia paled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Me either. If she comes back, she’ll have some plausible story to tell. Then she’ll ask us a bunch of questions we have to answer, or they’ll kill her, blah, blah, blah.”

Julia bit her lip. “What if she’s who she says she is? She isn’t trying to get anything out of us? What if we’re making a mistake?”

Mike raised his shoulders. “Then we’ll apologize and go back to being buddy buddy.”