Sitting in a room at the police station, the man who interviewed me reenters with some papers in his hand. I’m curled up on a couch there quietly, my mom’s arm around my shoulders as she comforts me.
“Right then, Miss Boston, we’ve corroborated your story. Thank you very much for cooperating. I hope you understand,” the officer says, taking a seat opposite to us.
I nod my head in reply. After all, I do kinda get why they decided to investigate me just in case.
It was very strange how I’d just kinda beelined to the body. Moreover, he’d been buried, though poorly. That wouldn’t really mesh well with the idea he was killed by a wolf.
However, his body had all the marks of a death by animal mauling, and at the time of his death, I was left alone at Mary’s Garden. The officer just wanted t
