“Hell, I’ve got kids myself, Deborah, so I can see how something like this can happen—what with you being a single momma and all. It’s a hectic, overwhelming day and then the kid starts to whine.” Stuart Albright, Jamesville’s chief of police, leaned forward in his wood chair, bracing beefy forearms against the scarred surface of the interrogation table.
He was so close now Deborah could smell the hint of onions on his breath, hear the smoke-raspy catch to his breathing. She drew back, retreating until the wood slats of her chair pressed hard against her spine, trying to think past the exhaustion, past the icy bite of fear.
“It’s all about the little things, isn’t it,” Albright continued, “he wants pizza instead of peas for dinner, or maybe he just won’t go to bed—the point is he starts to whine. Whine. Whine. Whine.”
Theresa? I think it’s you. One of the five finalists did not send her pages so you were next in the tally. How soon can you get me ten pages and a cover letter?
Please email me @ KLTabke@aol.com
Congrats and hurry up!