The air inside the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s field office was clinical, sterile, and cold.
Behind the two-way mirror of Interrogation Room 4, Lilly stood quietly, her arms crossed over her chest. She had traded her soft sweaters for a sharp, dark suit, her hair pulled back into a neat, professional knot.
Beside her, Vance leaned against the observation desk, holding two paper cups of black coffee. He handed one to Lilly, his eyes fixed on the man sitting on the other side of the glass.
Elliot sat alone at the heavy metal table, bolted to the floor.
He was dressed in a gray federal holding jumpsuit. His hair was slicked back, and a small white bandage covered the cut on his forehead. Even sitting in handcuffs, he was attempting to maintain his composure, shoulders straight, jaw
