The clinking of keys hitting metal didn’t distract Paul from his thoughts. Derek, the reporter, and Bill, the police chief, both walked into the outer cell.

Derek thought he looked calm. Paul was sitting with his arms resting on his legs, his hands clasped together. Paul looked straight ahead. To an average passerby he was staring at a blank dark wall, to Derek and Bill they knew Paul was deep in thought.

“You look like crap,” Derek said breaking the silence. “You think so Bill?”

“Oh yes, shit, of course.”

“And old too. He definitely looks old.”

“Look who’s talking,” Paul smiled finally breaking his trance.

“I wouldn’t be smiling there buddy,” Derek shot back, “you know you’re in real serious trouble mister.” Pointing his finger like his grandmother used to do.

“So you think I did it?”

“You tell us Paul,” Bill replied. Paul stood up and draped his arms over the horizontal bar connecting the vertical bars in place.

“You know who’s behind this Bill. You know what he did to put me in here.”