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She was watching the interrogation from the viewing room. She was standing behind a two-way mirror and she felt so important just being there.
The sheriff didn’t seem pleased that she was back there, but Liam insisted. There was something really great about hearing him defend her to his boss, even though he could lose his job.
The viewing room was cold, colder than it seemed outside, and she was grateful that she was wearing what felt like ninety layers. She should have bought a cup of coffee. She had never been good at standing and watching. It felt as if she should be doing something, but she was watching instead. She was standing near the sheriff, who was also watching.
“Fancy yourself a detective?” the sheriff had asked. He was holding the largest cup of coffee Becky had ever se
