Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Hours later, I’d received medical attention for my wound and a
pre-packaged cinnamon roll which still sat unopened on the
interrogation room table in front of me.
My eyes burned from exhaustion, and my stomach
growled, but I couldn’t get the damn roll, because I was
handcuffed, and I couldn’t reach it. They knew that.
They hadn’t tried questioning me yet, though, probably
knowing I was smart enough to know my rights.
But they hadn’t taken samples of the blood on my hand or
had me remove my clothes, either. I was getting curious about
what the hell was happening out there, because no one was
coming in, and I hadn’t gotten my phone call. What if I had to
piss?
I rubbed my face on my shoulder and yawned as the
fluorescent lighting beat down on me.
Where was Winter? I pictured her in my head, in our bed
and sleeping peacefully like I wanted her to be.
But I knew she wasn’t. She was awake and frantic, just as
tired and worried as I was. It dawned on me after I arrived
that, while I was happy she was out of harm’s way with my
father gone, I still didn’t want her walking through this world
without me. I didn’t want to miss anything.
For that reason, maybe I regretted doing what I did.
The door suddenly opened, and I turned my head, seeing a
short, pepper-haired man in a gray suit but still pretty young
and fit.
“Hi,” he said, stepping aside and allowing the officer in
behind him. “I’m Monroe Cason.”
The cop came over, and I watched as he uncuffed me and
turned away to leave, only to turn back with tight lips and pick
up the cinnamon roll, setting it down in front of me.
Huh?
I leaned my forearms on the table, picking up the roll and
turning it over in my hands a moment before I flung it at the
door just as he was closing it.