THE POKER FACE
725 Words
Chapter 3:
Detective Miller stepped into the apartment, the heavy scent of damp wool and stale city air trailing in with him. He didn’t immediately look at Maya, Chloe, or Sam. Instead, his sharp, cynical eyes swept across the room, taking in the unwashed coffee mugs, the tangled blankets on the couch, and finally, the glowing screen of Julian’s laptop.
"Nice place," Miller murmured, taking off his hat but making no move to sit. "Daddy’s money buys a lot of square footage in the East Village these days."
"Julian’s family helps with the rent," Maya said, her voice tighter than she intended. She casually stepped backward, closing the laptop lid with a soft, deliberate click. She hoped her palm wasn't sweating enough to leave a mark.
Miller’s gaze tracked her hand, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Right. The Vance family. Mr. Vance senior called the Chief of Detectives directly this morning. Apparently, Julian missed a mandatory family trust meeting yesterday. For a guy who likes his inheritance, that's equivalent to a declaration of war."
"Julian goes off the grid sometimes," Chloe chimed in, trying for her usual detached, unbothered tone. But the slight tremor in her fingers gave her away. "He’s probably just at a club or a friend's place in Brooklyn. His phone battery dies constantly."
"Off the grid," Miller repeated, turning to face Chloe fully. He loomed over the small living room, his presence instantly shrinking the space. "Does he usually leave his keys behind when he goes off the grid? His car is still in the garage down the street. His passport is still in his sock drawer—his father checked his apartment records. And according to his carrier logs, his phone didn't die. It was manually shut off right here, forty-eight hours ago."
The room went completely still. Sam looked down at his hands, his expression carefully blank, while Chloe swallowed hard.
Maya felt the weight of Julian's frantic sticky note practically burning a hole through the laptop lid. If they know you're looking, they'll look at you. Did "they" mean the police? Or someone much worse?
"When was the last time any of you actually spoke to him?" Miller asked, pulling a small, battered notepad from his overcoat.
"Two nights ago," Sam said quietly, speaking up for the first time. "We all had dinner here. Julian said he was tired and going to bed early. When we woke up the next morning, he was gone."
Miller jotted something down, the scratch of his pen loud in the silence. He looked at Sam, then at Chloe, and finally settled his eyes on Maya. He walked over to the laptop, stopping just inches from where she stood.
"You're Maya, right? Julian's oldest friend from campus?" Miller asked, his tone dropping into a deceptive, quiet calm.
"Yes," Maya said, holding his gaze.
"He ever mention any trouble to you? Bad investments? Debt? People he shouldn't be mixing with?"
"No," Maya lied smoothly. "Julian kept his finances private."
Miller stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, as if reading the hidden layers of her expression. Finally, he snapped his notebook shut and slid a matte-black business card across the closed laptop lid, right over Julian's fingerprints.
"If he calls, or if you kids suddenly remember something important—like whatever is currently making your hearts beat loud enough for me to hear them—give me a call," Miller said. He walked back to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "People with that much money don't just vanish into thin air, Miss Lin. They’re either running from a massive mess, or someone made them disappear. Let's hope for his sake it’s the first one."
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound of his heavy footsteps fading down the stairwell.
Chloe let out a breath she’d been holding, sinking onto the couch. "He knows. Maya, he knows we're hiding something."
Maya didn't answer. She reached out, picked up Detective Miller's card, and then slowly opened the laptop again. "He doesn't know about the bank account yet. But he will soon. We need to find out where that money went before the NYPD does."
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