The door flies open. A police officer enters the room. His gun is drawn, and his beady eyes bounce between us. The world slows to a stop. Beside me, Cole’s face drains of color. I shove him behind me and square my shoulders. “It’s good to see you again, son,” Cole’s dad says, skirting the length of the room and circling us. “You should answer your phone once in a while.”
Oh My God
