KATIE MARIE

I was trying to hide the fact that I had been crying and was on the verge of starting again. 

The policeman in front of me was watching me steadily, staring right at me but remaining silent. I looked down at the table and rubbed my arms. The air conditioner above me was blasting cold air right down the back of my shirt. The tarnished metal door to the interview room opened and a second policeman came in slowly, looking at the papers in his hand. He sat next to his partner and looked up at me. 

“So, Thomas, do you want to tell us where you were last Thursday?” he said.

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