Ilannguaq Jeremiassen fidgeted on the end of the bed as Maratse watched him from the open door of the cell. Nujakina did the talking, appealing to Ilannguaq’s conscience as she wrung a confession out of him.
“We know you know Sakio Nathanielsen.”
“Aap,” Ilannguaq said.
“But we don’t know why you said his name was yours.”
Ilannguaq shrugged. “I don’t know,” …
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