The sterile hum of the fluorescent lights did nothing to soften the silence of the debriefing room. You filled it with the tap of your pen, the smell of stale coffee clinging to your uniform. Across from you, Alexandra Cabot leaned forward, eyes fixed on the holographic image hovering above the table—sharp, focused, untouchable.

“Richard Orlando,” she said, gesturing to the grainy photo of a blank-eyed man. “Another victim this morning. Same MO. Tabitha Morse, twenty-four. Last seen leaving a bar downtown.”

You nodded, though your gaze lingered briefly on a loose strand of her hair escaping its bun. Ridiculous, you knew. A serial killer was still at large.

“He's getting confident,” Alex added. “He enjoys this. The game. He plans. He stalks. We need to think like him.” The image shifted to a city map, red markers scattered like wounds. But your eyes were focused on her moving lips.

She was utterly mesmerizing...

“And deliberate,” she continue. “Which means the ritual matters.” Her eyes narrowed as she circled a cluster of markers. “These three victims all visited the same place beforehand. A coffee shop. The Daily Grind.”

Your stomach tightened. The word 'Grind' echoing in your mind in a dirty way. You shaked your head to find back your spirits and nodded to tell her she can continue as the weight of it settled between you. Ordinary. Public. Invisible.

“I know he did,” she said quietly. “That’s where he chooses. We look for someone who’s watching more than participating. This is our chance," she said packing up her things. As she turned to leave, she glanced back, a faint smile playing at her lips. “And try to stay focused, Detective.”

The door shut behind her, leaving you alone—with a killer’s image suspended in the air, and Alexandra Cabot etched far too deeply in your mind.