During Family Breakfast, My Sister Hurled a Hot Frying Pan at My Daughter
“Give me twenty minutes to print the final affidavits.”
By eleven the wind had picked up across town, carrying the far-off rumble of a coming storm as I turned into the police station lot.
Detective Sarah Mitchell met me at the security desk on the second floor and took me back to her corner desk.
A gray plastic inbox next to her computer held three thick manila files marked with the county case number.
I sat down and set my black fourteen-page binder right on her blotter.