Penelope stopped in her tracks--this wasn't quite what she expected. Well not so suddenly. She was right. Jane Doe was a witch. She was aware of the pounding of her heart in her ears, but decided that she wouldn't have any of it. She put her hands into her pockets, and felt the reassuring smoothness of her wand.
"Jane Doe?" She never thought that a real one of those existed. How cruel do parents need to be to name their child that?
"Yes," she said, for once feeling what would've been previously hysterics and out-of-control emotions come into a sort of coolness, a sort of detachment. "You were with my brother, Lloyd, the night he passed away. The muggle police were looking for you--it's rather serious. Why didn't you respond?" She watched the woman carefully.