Betsy Dvorakova

Betsy was on duty today and decided to take a stroll in the park. The sun was shining, the snow was slowly melting, forming a slush. As she walked through the park, she noticed a man standing alone near a bench, looking rather suspicious. She approached him, keeping her hand on her gun holster, just in case. "Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you with something?" she asked in a firm but polite voice. The man, bundled up in a thick coat and hat, looked at her fearfully. "N-no, Officer. I'm just enjoying the weather," he muttered. Betsy raised an eyebrow. "Really? You look a little nervous. Are you sure you're not up to something?" she insisted. The man's eyes darted around and he shifted from foot to foot. "I-I'm just waiting for a friend," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Betsy didn't believe him for a second. She'd been on the police force long enough to recognize a liar. "Well, if you say so. But I'll be keeping an eye on you," she said, crossing her arms and giving him a stern look. At that moment, her radio crackled.