"Ma'am?" the officer prompts again, his hands grasping the sides of his bulletproof vest. He looks relaxed, but he's probably ready to take me down if I act out of line.
Never before have I thought, oh, I should be careful or an officer might tackle me to the ground.
Yet another thing on my list of firsts in these recent weeks. If God can stop throwing these at me, it'd be great. Not a single one of them would have ever ended up on my bucket list anyway.
Resigned to my fate, I just say, "I have no idea what happened. I was going home, and she attacked me. She's my ex-fiance's lover." No point in mentioning his murder here; I'm sure they already know about it. And if they don't, they'll know all about it when they look everything up.
He nods, jotting something down in a small notebook. "And your name?"
"Nicole d'Armand."