The bulb in the interrogation room buzzed like a dying insect, throwing harsh, unflinching light across Alec’s face.

He sat motionless in the metal chair, wrists cuffed to the ring bolted to the table.

The makeshift bandage on his shoulder had soaked through in dark patches; the pain was a steady throb, but he kept his expression blank, eyes fixed on the wall ahead.

The door opened. Detective Elias Monroe entered alone, carrying a slim file folder and a Styrofoam cup of coffee, which he set down just out of Alec’s reach. He pulled out the opposite chair, sat, and opened the folder without looking up at first.

“Dr Blackwood,”...