A tall man in a worn jacket and plain tie stepped forward. Mid-forties, gray at the temples, eyes sharp. A detective. “Let me talk to her.” He led her quietly to his office and shut the door. “I’m Detective Langford,” he said, pulling out a chair.
“Tell me everything. And take your time.”He handed her a tissue. For the first time that morning, someone actually looked like they were listening. “Start from the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything. I’ll look into it. But I need every detail you’ve got.”
Three days later, Maya’s phone buzzed. Can you meet me at 42 Alder Lane in an hour? That was all the detective said. She didn’t hesitate. The address rang no bells, but her gut knew—this was about Aiden.
She arrived to find the detective waiting outside a quiet, well-kept home. “This is his place,” he said. “He’s inside. With his wife.” Maya’s breath hitched. “She doesn’t know?” “No. We’re not giving him time to spin anything. You ready?”