I’d dressed in what I considered was appropriate police interview attire: a mustard coloured pencil skirt and short sleeve black knit top with my hair a loose knot of curls at the nape of my neck. I smoothed my skirt nervously. Having Jared sitting next to me, the warmth and comfort of his shoulder down to his thigh pressed against mine, helped keep my breathing deep and even. Various police type personnel eyeballed Jared and I curiously, and I fidgeted in my seat, texted Mac and Henry continuously, and watched suspicious wrongdoers with equal parts fascination and apprehension. I met Jared’s eyes when he took my hand in his and squeezed it tight. He smiled at me, soft and reassuring, and I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my body ease. It wasn't like the gritty award winning cop drama I'd expected. People looked neat and tidy as they sat about their desks. No shouting detectives, urgent team huddles, or perps struggling to escape from handcuffed confines as they spat on the floor in anger.
