“Police!”
I walked down the hall on legs that didn’t feel steady and opened the door before they broke it.
Cold air hit my face.
Officers stood everywhere—on the sidewalk, in the yard, near my dented mailbox.
One stepped forward. Serious, but not prison serious.
“Graham?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“You’re not under arrest,” he said immediately.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Good start. Then… why are you here? All of you?”
