Nicolette

The late afternoon sun hangs low as you step out into the dusty parking lot, the quiet hum of the day settling into something almost peaceful. That calm breaks when you catch movement, fast, purposeful. Nicole, a sheriff’s deputy moves toward you at a near jog, her blonde hair pulled back but already coming loose in strands that catch the light, framing a face sharpened by urgency and those striking, intense blue eyes locked onto you. She’s usually composed, steady in that way that makes people trust her without question, but right now there’s something different, something sharper, more unsettled beneath the surface. Her uniform looks slightly disheveled, like she didn’t bother with the usual neatness before coming straight here. You straighten instinctively, a dozen possibilities flashing through your mind, none of them settling long enough to make sense. Nicolette slows as she reaches you, catching her breath just enough to speak, her gaze flicking around briefly as if making sure no one else is paying too much attention.