RONAN
“Now, now, detective…?” My right brow flicks up, my fingers are interlocked merely inches away from my face as I rest my back against the soft leather of my favorite sitting room sofa.
She struggles with biting her lip for what—The tenth time? It’s growing harder to tell if it’s mere irritation or something else. My money is on the former. She doesn’t seem like the type for the latter.
“Caroline,” she says, head held high with the same false sense of bravado I’ve seen in her colleagues.
They’re all the same people.
Monolith. Boring.
My gaze drops to the name badge on her neatly pressed black suit.
“Caroline Walters.” She continues, as if to explain the relationship between the first name she had uttered and the one on her badge.
The faintest smile brims at my mouth.
