Chapter 1 - The Cold Interrogation
The metal table in the interrogation room felt like a slab of ice against Cora’s forearms. It was small, scratched, and bolted securely to a floor that had seen too many desperate people sit right where she was sitting. The overhead fluorescent light hummed with a low, agonizing frequency that seemed to vibrate directly behind her eyes.
She stared down at her hands. The steel handcuffs were gone, replaced by heavy plastic zip-ties that dug sharply into her skin whenever she shifted her weight. Her wrists were already bruised, a dark, purplish ring blooming against her pale skin.
"Let's go through it one more time, Miss Walsh," Detective Miller said, leaning back in his metal chair. He had a pencil tucked behind his ear and a stale smell of burnt coffee rolling off his rumpled shirt. "You were found on the grounds of the Thorne estate at five-fifty in the morning. At six o'clock, the vet's preliminary report shows the animal—Nero, a one-hundred-and-forty-pound Cane Corso registered to Dante Thorne—was administered a massive dose of concentrated muscle relaxant mixed into his morning feed."
Cora lifted her head. Her voice was scratchy, worn raw from hours of silence. "I didn't do it."
"That's not what the security logs say," Miller countered, tapping a pen against a manila folder. "Your keycard logged into the secondary service kennel at 5:15 AM. You were the only staff member scheduled in that sector. Furthermore, a syringe containing the exact same sedative compound was found in the pocket of the sweater you were wearing."
Cora felt her breath catch in her throat. "That's impossible. Someone planted it there. I haven't worn that sweater to the kennels in three days; it was hanging in my locker in the staff quarters. Anyone could have opened it."
Miller didn't look convinced. He gave her a heavy, pitying sigh—the kind of sigh cops use when they've already made up their minds and just want the paperwork wrapped up before lunch. "People in your position, Cora, they get desperate. Working for men like Dante Thorne... it pays well until it doesn't. Maybe someone bought you off. Maybe you had a grudge. Either way, the physical evidence points directly to you."
"Dante knows me," Cora pleaded, leaning forward despite the bite of the zip-ties. "He knows I would never hurt Nero. Ask him to come down here. Just let me speak to him."
Miller stood up, snapping the manila folder shut with a sharp crack. "Mr. Thorne doesn't need to come down here, Miss Walsh. In fact, given the severity of the charges and the value of the property involved, Mr. Thorne has already issued a statement through his legal team."
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Cora’s heart hammered against her ribs. "What... what did he say?"
Miller paused at the door, turning back with a cold, expressionless look. "He said justice should be swift. And that he wants to see the person responsible look him in the eye."
