Sophia sat at her desk, a pile of files, photographs, and handwritten notes spread before her like the remnants of a battle. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she sketched yet another flowchart on a large whiteboard mounted on the wall. Arrows connected victims, locations, timelines, and potential suspects, but the picture still lacked clarity. Despite all their efforts, the killer remained elusive—a ghost slipping through their fingers.
The faint buzz of the overhead light and the occasional sound of footsteps in the corridor were the only noises in the room until a soft knock on the door broke the silence.
“Come in,” Sophia said, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.
Andrew entered, balancing two steaming mugs of coffee. “Thought you might need this,” he said, offering one
