“It was her.”
The interrogation room fell completely silent after Jayda spoke.
Even the detectives stopped writing.
The fluorescent lights above suddenly felt too bright, making Jayda’s headache worsen while fragments of memory violently continued surfacing inside her mind.
The receptionist.
Smiling politely at the lobby counter.
Offering room keys.
Asking if they needed assistance.
And that same woman—
Standing inside the seventh floor hallway that night.
Watching.
Not helping.
Jayda’s breathing slowly became uneven again.
The detective across from her leaned forward carefully.
“You’re certain?”
Jayda shut her eyes briefly.
The memory still looked incomplete.
Blurry around the edges.
But the voice—
She remembered the voice now.
Cold.
Nervous.
“You shouldn’t have brou
