The investigator arrived late that afternoon, his presence a quiet disruption to the household’s routine.
He was a man accustomed to shadows, his demeanor calm and assured.
I led him to my office, closing the door behind us.
He handed me a slim folder, its weight more psychological than physical.
“It’s all in there,” he said, his voice even.
My hands hesitated over the folder, the moment stretching between us.
“Anything I should know before I read this?”
He paused, considering his words carefully.
“There’s more than meets the eye, but nothing conclusive yet.”
I nodded, opening the folder slowly.
