The Web Tightens

The detective wasn't done with me yet. And neither was the game. 

Not by a long shot. My mind buzzed with possibilities as I sat in 

the sterile, cold interrogation room. My thoughts twisted and 

contorted, every single one of them tainted by the feeling of 

inevitability that was crawling down my spine. The walls felt closer 

now. 

Miller had left me alone for what felt like hours. And when he finally 

walked back into the room, his expression was unchanged, his eyes 

sharp and knowing. 

"You're not getting out of this that easily," he said, his voice 

smooth and controlled. "I'll break you. Everyone does eventually." 

I didn't respond immediately. My gaze stayed fixed on the small 

window in the corner of the room, the light filtering through the 

blinds casting long shadows on the floor. The tension in my chest 

threatened to strangle me, but I had no intention of showing 

weakness. I wasn't done yet. 

Miller leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Where were 

you last night? After Becker left? Who were you with?" 

I didn't have a good answer. But then again, I didn't need one. I'd 

been here before—this was nothing new.

"I told you. She left. That's the truth," I said, the words coming 

out as evenly as I could manage. "I don't know what happened to 

her after that. Maybe she went back to whoever she was meeting. 

But it wasn't me. It wasn't my fault." 

Miller didn't look convinced. He didn't even blink. 

"I'm going to ask you again. Who were you with?" he pressed. 

The door to the interrogation room opened just then, and I looked 

up to see a figure standing in the doorway. A man in an expensive 

suit. His hair was neatly combed, his eyes cold and calculating. I 

knew that face. I'd seen him once before—at one of my 

exhibitions.

The wealthy buyer. 

"Is everything all right here, Detective?" The buyer's voice was 

smooth, too polished, as if every word had been rehearsed. He 

moved into the room, his presence filling the space. 

I recognized the subtle way he studied me, his gaze almost 

predatory. He had been watching me from the beginning, even 

before Becker's death. But now, his interest felt more intense. 

More deliberate. 

Miller didn't seem to mind the interruption. In fact, he looked 

almost relieved to have the buyer there. "Perfect timing, Mr. 

Brooks. I was just asking our friend here about his whereabouts 

last night."

I felt my stomach twist. I didn't know where he was going with 

this, but it didn't feel good. I could feel the noose tightening. 

"And what exactly did she have?" Hall asked, his voice sharp, 

curious. 

"I can't say yet," Brooks replied, his smile never faltering. "But I 

will say this: it's going to be hard to hide the truth forever. People 

like him—" Brooks glanced at me with a look of amusement "—

 they never get away with it for long. No matter how much they try 

to cover their tracks." 

The weight of his words hung in the air. My pulse quickened, a 

sense of panic rising in my chest. What was he talking about? What 

did Becker know? 

"Are you accusing me?" I asked, my voice low, but my fingers 

trembling slightly as I gripped the edge of the table. 

Brooks smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Not yet. But I will say 

this—people like you, Mr. Kelly... you always leave a trail behind. 

You just don't know it yet." 

Miller's eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. "What are you getting 

at, Mr. Brooks?"

The buyer's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his 

composure. "I'm simply offering a suggestion. I think the detective 

might want to look at Becker's history a little closer. She had ties 

to certain individuals. Maybe there's something there that connects 

Mr. Kelly to her. Maybe something that'll lead us to the truth." 

My heart slammed against my chest. I was being cornered, and I 

could feel it. The walls were closing in. 

"Are you working with him?" I asked, my voice rising in tension. It 

felt like every breath I took was heavier than the last. 

Brooks chuckled softly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Not 

yet. But, like I said, I'm just offering suggestions. It would be a 

shame to see someone like you get away with something so... messy

Miller's gaze was unwavering as he nodded. "We'll take it from here, 

Mr. Brooks."

The buyer stood up, his gaze never leaving me as he turned to 

leave. "Keep an eye on him, Detective. People like him rarely slip 

through the cracks." 

He left without another word, his footsteps echoing in the hall. 

Miller lingered for a moment, his eyes on me, before he too turned 

and exited the room.

I was alone again. But the air felt different now. The tension, the 

uncertainty, it was all a heavy weight pressing down on me. Brooks 

had planted a seed, and I knew it wouldn't take much for that seed 

to grow into something more dangerous. Miller was on to me, and I 

had no doubt that the detective would uncover everything if I 

wasn't careful. He had no reason to trust me, and every reason to 

destroy me.

I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to clear my mind, but the 

doubts kept creeping in. Who could I trust? Could I still escape 

this? Or had I already stepped too far into the web that was being 

spun around me? 

There was no turning back now. 

I needed a plan. I needed to stay one step ahead of them. Before 

they could destroy me, I had to destroy them first.