He released an audible breath.

"You were there," he deadpanned, a statement of fact. She was there, and she'd presumably seen him swing the fatal shot. What must she think of him? "I take it you're here to arrest me, then? What are my charges?" Accidental manslaughter? Careless misconduct? Doing his fucking job, albeit poorly? His expression darkened and his gaze dropped to the swirling liquid in his cup.

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