Izzie’s dad and the officers made their way to us. One was a stocky man with dark hair, and the other was a tall lanky blond with a long face but a friendly smile. He offered his hand, and I eagerly took it. “Hello, I’m Officer Sterling.”
“I’m Abby. I live down the road.”
The stocky officer stretched out his hand. “I’m officer Bryant.”
I shook his hand too, my pulse racing.
“Abby and Izzie are best friends,” Adele chimed in. “Uh… were…”
“Nice to meet you, Abby. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Officer Bryant asked.
“Uh…” I was going to be late for work, but as far as excuses went, this was definitely a good one. Police interrogation. I felt like I was in an episode ofLaw & Order.
“Sure…” I finally managed.
We went into the kitchen where the officers proceeded to interview me. Notepads, and a folder and recorder were fetched. A form was filled out and signed, my basic info and my permission for a recording device to be used during the interview. I cooperated as much as I could. I felt as if I were being sucked into a whirlwind as I answered their questions. What was going on? Where was Izzie?
I desperately wanted to know. I wanted to help.
We went over the basics, my relationship with Izzie mostly. I explained that we’d had a falling out the previous summer and I’d hardly spoken to her since. When they asked me what had caused our falling out, my breath hitched. I wasn’t completely forthcoming when I told them we had had a fight about her spending too much time with Kelly and Karla. Actually, I outright lied. But if I’d mentioned that the fight was about Gavin, they would be compelled to investigate him, and I certainly didn’t want that. I also valued my own privacy, and our relationship was nobody’s business.
I told them all about Kyra and Kelly, as much as I knew. When officer Sterling asked if there were any boys in Izzie’s life, I almost laughed. There were always boys in her life. She liked it that way.
“We might need to contact you again, Abby,” Officer Bryant told me. “If we have further questions.”
“That’s okay.”
We said out goodbyes, and they thanked me more than once. My pulse was still racing as I walked to the bus stop to catch the next bus. I was going to be late, but I’d definitely have a story to tell.
