Chapter 37 Stormglass

Ariana sat in the cold chair across from the Charleston precinct’s desk, the overhead fluorescent light flickering just enough to set her teeth on edge. Damien stood beside her, arms folded across his chest, face carved from stone. The young officer who had escorted them inside was polite, but impersonal as if reading from a script designed to keep things “professional.” But Ariana could feel the tension under his voice, the suspicion tucked beneath his clipboard.
She wasn’t a criminal. She knew that.
And yet, somehow, she felt like one.