dealing

Detective Cable set a small tape recorder on the table next to them and took out a small stack of paper forms and a pencil.
Then the questions began.
Forty‑five minutes later, Kayla was trying to stay awake as she explained for a second time how she hadn't seen the gunman actually walk into the store, how she hadn't seen anyone outside the store who could've been with the gunman, and that she hadn't heard the gunman say anything until after the police arrived.
I wish Billy was here. He'd know what to say, how to handle this.
“All right,” Cable said, stifling a yawn. “Let's go over what happened when your friend Billy was shot. You said you jumped the guy, he knocked you down and you fainted, and . . . ?”
“ . . . and I woke up when Officer Walker was asking me if I was okay,” she said, not saying anything about the entire “blue lights” situation. They'll lock me up in a padded cell in five minutes if I start talking about that, she thought.
To Kayla's relief, the policewoman switched off the tape recorder. “Thank you, Kayla,” she said with a tired smile. “Thank you very much. Now all I need is for you to fill out some paperwork, and then I'll give you over to Elizabet Winters, our resident psychology therapist, specializing in juvenile psychology. She'll want to talk to you a little, make sure that you're handling all of this okay. I know it's been an awful night for you, and you seem to be dealing with everything just fine,