The three fans had been told they could leave.
Their statements were taken. Rina's arm was wrapped in a compression bandage that ran from her wrist to her elbow. Tess's camcorder had been copied by an officer who'd handled it like evidence, which it was, and then returned to her with a nod and a receipt. The officer at the front desk had said they were free to go, and they'd nodded and thanked him and walked out the front doors into the cool night air.
Then they stopped.
Mari leaned against the station's outer wall, her arms crossed against the cold. Rina stood beside her, cradling her bandaged arm the way you'd hold something fragile. Tess sat on the low concrete ledge near the steps, her broken camcorder in her lap, her fingers tracing the cracked screen.
"We should go home," Rina said.
"We should," Mari agreed.
Neither of them moved.
