They had no idea.
I exhaled, leaned back, and smiled—a slow, measured smile I had practiced in the mirror.
Jeffrey relaxed, satisfied. He truly believed this was the end of the conversation.
Poor boy.
He had no idea what was about to walk through my front door.
The doorbell rang.
I didn’t flinch. I just looked at Jeffrey and said calmly: “That must be for me.”
He frowned. “Who?”
I stood, gripping my crutches, wincing dramatically—just enough to let guilt tug at his subconscious, though it didn’t reach far.
I opened the door.
“Come in, Officer.”
A tall man stepped inside, snow melting off his boots. His uniform was crisp, badge gleaming beneath the Christmas lights. In his hand, he held a small black device.
A voice recorder.
The same make and model as the one in my pocket.
Behind me, I heard chairs scrape, someone gasp, someone mutter, “Oh, God…”
