"Just tell me what happened, Ethan," Detective Julia Carter said, leaning forward on the metal table, her pen poised over the notepad. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly overhead, casting harsh shadows across the small, windowless room. Ethan ran a hand through his disheveled dark hair, his jaw tightening as he avoided her gaze. "I already told you," he muttered. "I don’t know anything."

Julia sighed, sitting back in her chair. She was in her early thirties, with sharp green eyes that seemed to cut through every lie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and her fitted blazer emphasized her toned frame, though her expression was all business. Ethan, on the other hand, looked like he hadn’t slept in days—his white shirt wrinkled, his stubble unkempt, and his hands fidgeting nervously on the table. They’d known each other for years, ever since Julia had moved to the precinct, but this was the first time she’d seen him on this side of the table.

"Look," Julia said, her voice softening just enough to sound sincere. "I’m trying to help you here. But you’ve got to give me something to work with." Ethan finally met her eyes, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the door creaked open behind her. Julia turned, her brow furrowing as a uniformed officer stepped in, holding a file. "Detective," he said, his tone urgent. "You’re going to want to see this."