POV: Iris Hartwell
The doorbell rang at 3 PM on a Wednesday.
Iris was alone in the penthouse,Julian at a meeting downtown, the space quiet in the way that made every sound feel significant. She almost didn't answer. Had trained herself over the past weeks to avoid unexpected interactions, to assume anyone arriving unannounced was part of some architecture she didn't yet understand.
She opened the door anyway.
"Detective Webb." The man in the hallway was mid-forties, wearing a suit that didn't fit as well as it should have, carrying the particular exhaustion of someone who spent their career asking questions with no good answers. "I'm here to see Julian. Is he around?"
Iris knew the name from the case file. Detective Thomas Webb had been lead investigator on Daniel's death. He'd written the report concluding the case was random violence with insufficient evidence for prosecution. He'd closed the file. And now he was standing at Julian's penthouse door.
