"And where'd your father get it?"
She looked at him. There was something wrong with the way he said it, and she could not decide what. It was not the way police asked questions. She had been asked questions by police, and they asked them flatly, like reading off a form, or they asked them fast, to trip you up. He was asking this one like it mattered to him what the answer was.
"Am I being detained?" she said.
He blinked. "What?"
"I'm asking if I'm being detained, sir. Or if I'm free to go."
He looked at her for a moment as if she had begun speaking in Bosnian. Then something closed in his face, a door shutting on a lit room. "You're being asked some questions," he said.
"I understand. I'm asking if I'm free to go."
"No," he said. "You're not."
"Then I'm being detained."
"Then you're being detained."
"May I ask the reason?"