"Good afternoon, Mr. Walker. I'm sorry to wake you but the detectives have been asking to interview you since yesterday. I'm afraid they're very insistent."
I tried to focus on the woman standing next to me. Everything was very...white. "Where am I?"
"Drisking Regional. I'm Dr. Clava. And since you're going to be speaking to two of the rudest men I've ever met I'm going to up your morphine a smidge."
I blinked a few times against the bright lights that stung my eyes. "No. No, no morphine please. Take me off it."
"Are you sure? You'll be in a bit of pain if I do that." She said as she walked over to the IV drip.
"Yeah, turn it off. Where's Kimber? How is she doing? Also, how am I not dead?"
"I'm not Kimber's doctor so I'm not sure who you're talking about. As for your survival, you owe that to a rather skilled surgeon on staff here."
I could already pain radiating from my chest below my heart. "Is there any way you could make it any darker in here?"
"Absolutely," she replied as she walked to the door and turned down the lights. "Good luck. A nurse will be by later to check on you."
I didn't recognize the two men who pushed past Dr. Clava in the doorway. They were serious looking men with the dry air of immediacy about them.
"Sam Walker, my name is Agent Grant, this is Special Agent Trippine. We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." My voice sounded strained and I tried to sit up. When it was clear I wasn't going to make it, Agent Grant grabbed my arm to steady me and pointed to a remote control at the edge of the bed. I held the 'RAISE' button until the bed sat me up level with the two men.
"We're here because you were found unconscious and near death at a crime scene, along with a 27-year-old woman and the corpse of the county sheriff." Grant continued.
"Sounds about right." I said and rubbed my face. I winced as I brushed my nose. They had set the bones but it was all still very tender. I didn't even want to see my chest.
"Can you comment on the events that led you to that location?" Agent Grant asked. Trippine remained silent.
"Sure, I'd fucking love to. But first I really need to know where Kimber is."
"She is in federal custody giving her own statement."
"And what happened to all the women at the- er, at the mine? The people who were imprisoned there?"
"The victims have all been removed from the scene."
"And why are you only talking to me now? I tried to contact the feds for years about Borrasca."
"Is that the local name for this trafficking group?"
"Sort of." I winced at a stab on pain the ricocheted from my spine to my ribs.
"We don't have any record of you contacting the FBI at any time."
"Yeah, well I did."
"And that will be addressed. An internal investigation has been opened due to the, shall we say, sensitive information leaked by the press on Wednesday evening."
"Oh yeah? Did they receive some sort of...press packet?"
"Do you know something about that?" Trippine finally spoke.
"I know nothing about that. But I do know a lot about everything else." I wanted to laugh. This was ludicrous. I was alive. The sheriff was dead. Borrasca was gone. And everybody associated with it was going down. It was almost everything Kimber had wished for. It couldn't be really happening.
The detectives pulled two chairs that were set back along the wall up to the bed. "Do you mind if we record you?"
"Fuck no, I want all of this on record."
"Alright," Grant started, setting a recorder onto the bed next my leg. "Tell us about your father."
