Abby
The snow crunches under my boots as we make our way up the back steps of the police headquarters. Despite Karl’s solid presence at my back, I can’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine. My hands tremble ever so slightly in their gloves—whether it’s simply from cold or my jittery nerves, I can’t quite tell.
Officer Martinez meets us at the top of the stairs, her face creased with strain. “Thank you so much for coming, Abby,” she says, closing the distance between us as we approach. “We’ve cordoned off an area for you out front to address the crowd."
My stomach swoops uneasily. When we pulled in, I caught glimpses of colorful signs and chanting protesters gathered along the street. Their sheer numbers make me balk, and the idea of making some sort of impassioned speech t
