(c) 2010 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved
Sam tossed Mykael Montero’s file on top of the rapidly growing pile of paperwork on her battered desk. She’d already made so many trips to the sally port, then to the holding cells, then back to her desk that her feet hurt. And it took a lot to make her feet hurt, no matter how torturous the shoes. Her long day was getting longer and longer, with no real end in sight.
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