Katelyn didn't want to let us in the front door, but a flash of two badges and Jill's booted foot across the threshold was enough to convince her we meant business.
The moment we entered the kitchen, she was on the defensive, her entire body tense, those crossed arms and that bulging chest as a result in clear evidence of her lack of enthusiasm for this confrontation.
"We need to ask you a few questions, Katelyn," I said. "First, about what happened in Montpellier at Thea's last church." She flinched instantly. "Do you know anything about why she was fired?"
The young woman's face crumpled, her lips, dark and perfectly lined with shiny lipstick, pouting a moment before she tossed her artfully curled hair over the shoulder of her low-cut t-shirt. Was I judging? Yes, I was judging, shame on me. She was allowed to wear whatever she wanted, use as much makeup as she wanted. I wasn't her mother and, honestly, even her mom had no right to tell her what to do.