“let’s start from the beginning,” she said, her tone firm but measured. “you’ve been careful with your words so far, but I’d like some clarity. why were you at the scene that night?”

you shifted in your chair, feeling the pressure of her presence. she had a way of making you feel exposed, as though she could see straight through any facade. her expression betrayed no emotion, just the sharp focus of someone determined to get to the truth.

“i already told the detectives,” you began, but she cut you off with a slight raise of her hand.

“humor me,” she said coolly, leaning forward slightly. “i want to hear it from you, in your own words. every detail matters, and right now, you’re holding something back.”

the way she said it wasn’t a question—it was a statement. you felt your pulse quicken as her gaze bore into you.

“i wasn’t involved,” you said, your voice faltering slightly. “i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

she arched an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. “wrong place, wrong time. that’s convenient. but let me remind you, withholding information or lying in this room could make things a lot worse for you.”

she stood then, slowly pacing around the table, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. “you see, i’ve dealt with a lot of people who thought they could outsmart the system. some were guilty. some weren’t. but what separates the innocent from the guilty is their willingness to cooperate.”

her voice softened, but her words carried more weight. “if you’re telling the truth, prove it to me. tell me why you were really there.”

you hesitated, feeling the walls close in. she stopped pacing and leaned on the table, her eyes now level with yours. “this is your chance,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “but it’s the only one you’re going to get.”