Margaret’s face lost all color the second she saw them.
Two police officers stood at the front door beside a locksmith in a navy uniform. Behind them was a sharply dressed woman carrying a leather folder under one arm.
My lawyer.
For the first time since she’d entered my life, Margaret looked uncertain.
“What is this?” she demanded, gripping the doorframe tightly.
One of the officers spoke calmly. “Ma’am, we’re here regarding an assault report filed yesterday evening.”
Her eyes widened instantly.
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