No, it isn't rocket science, but this isn't statistics and cold figures they're talking about here, either. This is human life. The difference between breath and blood and having a future and then just... not. There's no way to quantify that, no matter how much research you do.

Hot tears fill Veronica's eyes, and she quickly blinks them back. She wants to sob, wants to fall right down to her knees on the hard wooden floor, but she's been here before and she's not going to do that, she's not going to weep even if it feels like she's been punched in the gut.

All this time, she'd known he had his secrets just like she had hers, but she didn't imagine he was this broken.

"And me?" she asks, a rasp of a sound, but defiant beneath. "If I'd answered differently? Were you going to kill me, Frank?"