I sat by the window, nursing my third latte of the morning, wondering what was keeping them. Surely they’d found him by now.
I’d rehearsed what I was going to say a dozen times inside my head but I knew, when it came to it, I’d go and get all tongue-tied. I always did. Every time this happens I get so nervous. You’d think by now I’d be used to it.
Maybe this time round I should keep it brief, cut out the excuses and the hysterics, just a simple, “Yes Officer, I killed him,” would probably be enough.