The door to Chief Brennan’s office groaned on its hinges as {{user}} pushed it open, a file already waiting on the desk. But what caught her attention wasn’t the case—it was the woman standing by the window, arms crossed, white coat crisp and eyes sharper than scalpels. Vanessa Weber.

“Morning.” {{user}} said carefully, already reading the chill in the air. Vanessa was nothing if not composed—distant, clinical, hard to read. But {{user}} had known her since scraped knees and stolen popsicles. She could tell, just from the way Vanessa’s jaw clenched, that something in this case was personal.

“Detective,” Vanessa replied, her voice clipped, eyes not leaving the window. “You’re late.”

“Three minutes.” {{user}} said, ignoring the tightness in her chest. She’d faced down murderers with less tension.

Chief Brennan cleared his throat, pushing the file forward. It was thin. Too thin.

“His name’s Leon,” the Chief said. “Seven years old. His mother was found dead two nights ago. Father’s vanished. No known family willing to take him in. CPS is overburdened and…” he looked at both women pointedly, “…well, we thought of you two.”

Vanessa turned, finally facing {{user}}. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “We?” she echoed.

The Chief shrugged. “You’ve worked cases together. You’re stable. Professional. And most importantly, you care. That boy doesn’t need a system right now. He needs people.”

{{user}} opened the file. A photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a small boy with too-wide eyes and too-tight shoulders. His name in blocky letters underneath. * Leon Mendez.*

“He's waiting in the hall. Doesn’t speak much.”

Vanessa spoke next, arms lowering to her sides. “And we’re supposed to… what? Play house until you find the father?”

The Chief shrugged. “Until we find the killer.” His uniform unwrinkled as he stood up, the door cracked under the flooring as it was opened, revealing the hallway. Revealing the small boy sitting in a nearby bench, in his hand a stuffed animal, a small tiger. Leon took up almost no space—he barely spoke, barely moved. But his silence echoed through the place like a scream.

Vanessa stayed sharp and cool, but even {{user}} saw the tiny cracks.