“Whatever you say next goes into my report in your own words, and I write them down exactly.”

Vivian’s fingers found the thin gold chain at her left wrist and twisted it once around.

Vance held her hand out in my direction without looking away from Vivian.

“Clipboard, Sergeant Conroy.”

I gave it to her.

Then I followed her into the shade of the shack, because a sergeant does not stand in the road while a four-star reads her paper.

She laid the board flat on the table and put one finger on the fourth line.