Without Consent

Начало книги

Temporarily blinded by the flashing bulbs, Geoffrey Willard stepped through the gate. Immediately, the onslaught began.

“Over here,” a man called.

“No, this way,” cried another.

“Geoff! What’s it like to be free?”

A microphone lurched forward and grazed his chin. The impact caught him off balance.

“Do you think you’re rehabilitated?”

Cameras click-clicked.

“Mate, look this way! Show us those baby blues.”

“Sunny, over here!”

Geoffrey instinctively shielded his eyes, the ones that caused inmates to nickname him Sundance, after Robert Redford, only before he turned old and wrinkly. With his forefinger, he touched a bit of newly shaved scalp and took half a pace backward, wishing he could retreat to the safety of prison.

More flashes exploded in the twilight. Not knowing which way to turn, he hid his face with his knapsack. What felt like a fist plunged into his side. As he pulled away with the pain, someone shoved from the other side.

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