I sat behind Dad's/Crew's/my desk feeling awkward and uncomfortable and oddly giddy as I did my best not to let hysterical meandering fed by the itching between my shoulder blades that screamed FRAUD IN THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE! keep me from doing the job Vivian entrusted me with.
Instead, here I was, questioning a witness and doing my very best to hold it together while Andrew Isaac, still lost in grief, didn't seem to notice, thank goodness. Because any second now someone (likely Vivian) was going to storm through the door and demand I get my butt out of this chair that was surprisingly comfortable considering the circumstances and stop playing at being someone who was supposed to be leading a criminal investigation.
Supposed criminal investigation.
Argh times a million.