**Surveillance — Week 2, Day 1**
Director Graham did not sit behind the desk.
He sat across from it.
The chair beneath him was lower than he preferred. The angle forced him to look slightly upward when addressing the man opposite him. He did not enjoy that.
To his right sat a woman who kept her spine rigid and her arms folded tight across her midsection.
Madeline Graham.
She wore a tailored cream blazer over a muted blouse, jewelry chosen carefully—gold bracelet, modest necklace, diamond studs. Her hair had been styled with intention, curled and set to frame her face in a way that softened it.
Time had not been unkind to her.
But it had left marks.
Her cheeks sat slightly too smooth for her age. The skin near her eyes pulled tight when she blinked. Her forehead did not crease naturally when she frowned, though the corners of her mouth showed irritation easily enough.
And right now, she was frowning.
Opposite them sat a man well past fifty.
