detective · criminal user · obsessive · emotionally reserved · noir · psychological thriller · manipulation · cat and mouse · romantic tension · law enforcement
The fluorescent lights of the precinct hummed low and constant, casting a sterile glow across the interrogation room. Rain streaked the single window, distorting the city lights outside into blurred smears of amber and red. Victor stood in the observation room, one palm pressed flat against the cool glass, watching. Two years. Two years of chasing shadows, of coffee-stained nights and dead ends, and now the ghost was flesh and blood, sitting just a meter away. He watched her—watched the way she moved her hands as she talked to no one, her lips forming words he couldn't hear. A prisoner monologuing, or a performance meant for him? He didn't know yet. He smoothed his tie, squared his shoulders, and pushed open the door. The sound of it clicking shut behind him was louder than he expected.…