Post #3 December

I am a tough girl. Drop me in a haunted house and I won't scream, spiders have never made my skin crawl, but I guarantee if you put me in a waiting room of a police station, you will see my palms sweat. The police on the Southside have a weird secrecy to them. I drove down to the station today after receiving a phone call regarding Mr. Evan's death. I've had a few encounters with the Southside police, but I've never been called down to the station.  Junior year was what you may call a "low" for me. I racked up some minor traffic violations so I don't have the most flawless history. I have had a bad rep with the officers to begin with so I knew that this visit would not be fun. After waiting in the lobby of the station for nearly half an hour, I was pulled back into a small, suffocating room. Officer Conway began by asking me about the night that I saw Mr. Evans in the diner. I was very tempted to respond, "Well Mr. Officer, I was not entirely sober, so I'm going to have to get back to you about that." Instead I choose to keep to myself and try my best to remember details from that amusing night.
"I remember Mr. Evans eating all by himself in a booth near the rear of the restaurant, I told Conway. "It was around two thirty in the am and I was wondering why he was out so late."
"I remembered that while I was waiting for my waffle to come, he stepped outside of the dinner and got on his phone, it looked like he was receiving a phone call, but I didn't pay much attention."
He continued to obnoxiously type into his computer and then he asked me about where I went after I left the diner. Officer Conway was really overstepping his boundaries. Why was he trying to pry into my life as if I was some criminal in this investigation. I responded, "I finished dinner and drove home with my friends. We watched Hulu movies for a little and then went to bed." They determined that the cause of death was heart failure, so why is the force beginning to investigate it as if something else really happened. The officer paused from asking me questions and began to shuffle through some stapled papers that were lying on his office desk. I glanced over at them and noticed my name was on a short list, along with the seven other girls that I was with that night.