Masuk“Miller.”I hear my name called sharply as I sit at my desk beside Olivia. I look up to see the Sergeant standing at the end of the hallway that leads to the interrogation rooms, his face carved into stone.This must have something to do with Rebecca Smithsdale.“Yes, sir,” I reply immediately, straightening in my chair.“Follow me.”He doesn’t wait for a response before turning toward his office. I exchange a brief look with Olivia before pushing my chair back.“You can stay here. I’ll be back soon,” I reassure her quietly.“Did I get you in trouble?” she asks, her voice small and innocent.“No,” I say with a faint smile. “I’m just working.”“Okay.”I rise and follow the Sergeant down the hallway, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence between us.“Sir?”“Miller, I’m going to update you as quickly as possible because I need you to work on Alan Smith.”“Whatever you say, sir.”“Good.” He continues walking, his stride purposeful. “Rebecca Smithsdale was conducting what she c
I watch as Rebecca Smithdale’s silence grows louder, thickening the air in the interrogation room until it feels almost suffocating. It’s not just quiet — it’s deliberate. A calculated omission.That’s when I see it.Her trigger response.She begins picking at the edge of her nail, scraping at it as though something is lodged beneath it. Subconscious. Repetitive. Compulsive.A crack in the armor.“Are you nervous?” I ask calmly, folding my hands on the table as if we’re discussing the weather.Her eyes flick to mine. “No. I just don’t know what it is you expect from me. I didn’t kill Nicholas.”“You didn’t,” I agree evenly. “But you repeatedly left him on the brink of death. You tortured him enough to leave evidence on what little DNA remained.”I let the next words land slowly.“His bones.”Her jaw tightens.“Nicholas wanted to get better,” she says, her tone sharpening, but there’s a tremor underneath it now.“Did he?” I counter. “Because his remains say otherwise. We found defensiv
I knew the moment the officers came to retrieve me that this wasn’t about signing a deal.This was something else.They’ve found something.Something they were never meant to find — and now I’ll have to explain it… once they reveal what, exactly, they think they know.Until then, silence is my shield.I’ll have no choice but to convince them otherwise.I’ve watched and learned the patterns of Officer Pennet. He leads with ego. He telegraphs his suspicions before he even speaks them. He would have been easy enough to dismantle.But this?This feels different.So I hold my composure. I keep my back straight, my breathing steady. I say nothing as they guide me down the corridor, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off concrete walls. The fluorescent lights hum overhead — clinical, unforgiving.I don’t speak when they sit me down.I don’t speak when they remove the handcuffs.I wait.The door closes with a dull thud, and for a moment, the room is silent except for the faint buzz of the cam
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s made it this far pulling a stunt like that.” I sigh, pushing myself up from behind my desk. The chair creaks softly as it rolls back, the sound loud in the otherwise suffocating quiet of my office. I straighten my jacket, forcing the weight of command back onto my shoulders. “Pennet, you’ve done well. I’ll take it from here.”“But sir, I can handle that shrink.” His voice carries confusion—and something else. Pride, maybe. He isn’t used to being pulled off an interrogation this close to the truth.“I’m aware,” I reply evenly, meeting his eyes just long enough for him to understand this isn’t a discussion. “But I think it’s time she met with the one running the place. We have something to discuss.” My tone leaves no room for argument.I brush past both men and step into the hallway, the air outside my office cooler, heavier, filled with the distant hum of phones and the low murmur of officers moving through their shifts.“Lincoln, forgive my abrupt
The drive back to the precinct is silent except for the low hum of the engine and the faint crackle of the patrol radio.Olivia had confessed that only Rebecca was left-handed. The medical examiner had confirmed that our perpetrator had to have been left-handed as well. It wasn’t proof on its own—but it narrowed the field in a way that made my stomach feel heavy.I had offered to take Olivia back to the assisted living facility where she’d been staying, but she’d refused quietly, almost fearfully, and Pennet and I had no choice but to bring her with us.She sits in the back seat now, hands folded neatly in her lap, staring out the window as if she doesn’t recognize the streets passing by.“Can I see Aunt Rebecca and Alan?” she asks softly, her voice barely carrying over the engine.I glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her eyes are wide—hopeful in a way that makes the truth feel cruel.“I’m sorry, Olivia,” I answer gently. “They’re being detained right now. They aren’t allowed visit
I can tell by the sergeant’s expression that whatever news he has isn’t comforting—certainly nothing Jessie is going to want to hear. His face is too rigid, too rehearsed. He won’t meet Jessie’s eyes for more than a second at a time, and that alone tells me everything.I move ahead of Jessie, guiding her gently toward the chair across from his desk, my hand hovering near her back in case she falters. She lowers herself into the seat slowly, her strength still fragile after everything she’s endured.I close the office door behind us, the quiet click sounding final. Too final.I position myself slightly between her and the desk before speaking.“Sergeant, I’d like to ask for a small favor, if you would.”“A favor for you is almost guaranteed, Lincoln. Ask,” he replies casually, bending down to open his desk drawer. He pulls out a bottle of scotch and two crystal glasses, setting them down with deliberate calm.I don’t relax.“Jessie’s been through a lot today,” I say firmly. “She’s unde







