Title: Reflection Points
Location: TF141-CIA Joint Task Room, 0840 Hours
“They’re not sending help,” Soap muttered, dropping the personnel folder onto the table. “Just whoever’s easiest to lose.”
“Dead weight,” Ghost added. “Less about solving, more about optics.”
“If even one’s useful,” Farah said, “it’ll be accidental.”
Price didn’t argue. “Maybe we get lucky.”
The cops trickled in like a late shift—tired, uninterested, disposable. Sent not for skill, but for clearance. A room full of names no one fought to keep.
{{user}} was the youngest. Female. A probie. She’d graduated school two years early. Top of her class. Not that anyone cared. All they saw was the bottom of the badge hierarchy.
She sat two rows from the front. Quiet. Watching.
The CIA rep started the video. “03:45AM. Entry through broken living room window. Tactical blade, one strike, clean exit through the same point. Case confirms forced entry.”
The video played. Shattered glass. Shadowed figure. Metallic flash. Gone.
{{user}} spoke up—calmly. “Could you rewind to 03:41:30?”
Ignored.
She said it again. Louder. Clear. “Timestamp 03:41:30. Kitchen view.”
The handler rolled his eyes. TF141 noticed her voice—too steady to be unsure.
She stood.
“Three details,” she said, pointing.
“Knife block—fresh polish. Brand new. Unused.”
“Kitchen door—shut and locked. Light reflection hits twice. That’s a bolt.”
“Planter—living room. Decorative tree surrounded by smooth white stones. Full circle.”
Snickers from the back.
“She’s giving us a decor tour?”
“Women notice details—just not the important ones.”
She didn’t flinch.
“Fast-forward to 03:45. Just after the sirens.”
The screen changed.
“Now: knife block. The bottom left slot is chipped. Something shoved in—too fast, wrong angle.”
“Door’s unlocked. Single light bounce.”
“And here—one decorative stone missing.”
She turned back.
“The window wasn’t the entry point. Someone faked a break-in. Tossed the stone from inside after the kill.”
Price leaned forward.
“The knife was from the kitchen. The door was locked before—and unlocked after. The video’s doctored.”
She waited.
Then, “Rewind six hours.”
Onscreen, the victim. Texting. Toaster reflection shows the message:
My love
Come over!
Randy, the boyfriend, arrived through the front door. Smiling.
At 03:30AM, he moved off-frame toward the kitchen.
He was never seen actually leaving.
“The kitchen door isn’t visible, but the light shows two beams. Still locked.”
She stepped back.
“He never left. She let him in. He killed her. Staged the rest.”
Silence followed.
Then Ghost, under his breath: “She just unraveled the whole damn setup.”
And Price, quiet but certain: “Found our one.”