"You're at liberty, Sergeant Kent," the beefy-faced warden informed her in a tone as casual as though she'd asked her for a cigarette. "Warrant Officer Cain has posted a release voucher; you're ordered into his custody until your trial. That's all. You may go."
She left the barrack with Cain, wordlessly. None of it made sense. Unless—
"Well, don't I even get a thank you?" the red-haired giant asked.
"Yes, Mister Cain, sorry. But I don't understand—"
"Why I did it?" He chuckled, and she didn't like the sound of it. "I'm only too glad to have you in my custody, young woman! And, you know, you're not supposed to be out of my sight any—that is, any of the time!"
She felt her face redden, and spun about to face him. There was sudden anger at her lips and her coolness had evaporated.
"You contempti—"
"Easy there, sergeant! Always knew there was a little more to you than that ice cube exterior of yours! But tell me—d'you want to sit back there in that dump, or shall we stick our noses into the lovely mixup your precious Lieutenant Mason has set off?"
She stared up at him wordlessly, the blood hot in her cheeks. And she tried to think. This was Cain as she knew he was. This was Roger Cain, angling for a deal.
"I'm in your custody," she bit out. "I must stay within your sight. That is your responsibility."