Detective Chen sat across from Carlos Ruiz in the same interrogation room where Maya had been just hours earlier. Carlos was twenty-two, lean and fidgety, wearing an oil-stained work shirt from the auto shop where he worked. He’d been brought in “for questioning,” not under arrest, but the distinction didn’t seem to make him any less nervous.
“Thanks for coming in,” Chen said, though they both knew he hadn’t had much choice. “I know this is difficult.”
“I already told you on the phone, I don’t know anything about the baby.” Carlos’s leg bounced under the table. “I haven’t talked to Maya since February.”
“We know. We’ve verified that through phone records and social media.” Chen opened her folder. “But we still need to ask you some questions. You’re Andrea’s biological father. That makes
