LEWIS watched Victor Hale through the observation window. Hale sat upright in the interrogation room, his back straight against the chair and his hands resting on the table. At first glance, he looked calm, almost undisturbed by the situation. His face was unreadable, his breathing steady, and his back remained ramrod straight.
But Lewis could see past that.
Hale's fingers were not as still as he wanted them to be. A slight tremor ran through them, small enough that most people would miss it. A thin line of sweat moved down the side of his face, even though the room was cool. His eyes stayed forward, but there was tension behind them.
He was nervous.
Lewis stayed by the observation window, watching.
They brought Hale in from the spaceport and put him straight into the interrogation room when they got to the police station. After that, they made him wait. Two hours had passed since then.
