[First Draft] Unresolved (New Chapters Daily)

Part Twenty Five

I look between them, my pulse quickening. The room feels smaller, the air more suffocating. "What's going on?" My voice cracks, coming out much weaker than I intended. I hate how vulnerable I sound, how lost.

Robin turns to me, and there's something raw and desperate in his expression. "Eva, this is the detective I spoke to earlier today... at the station." His voice falters, and his head drops into his hands. It's like watching someone crumble right in front of me, and it sends a shiver through me. Whatever facade of control he's been trying to hold onto is slipping fast, leaving us both exposed.

"Shit," I murmur, the word slipping out without thinking, a reflection of the chaos whirling inside my head. The detective's eyes snap to me, sharp and assessing, like he's cataloging my every reaction.

"What's gone on tonight?" His tone is calm, almost casual, but I can sense the undercurrent of something sharper beneath it. "I heard you had information on Cole's death." He steps forward, his presence filling the room, and it's clear he has no intention of leaving until he gets what he came for.

Robin shoots me a look, his eyes wide, pleading. "Eva, think about what I said," he urges, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the desperation in it is palpable. He's clutching at straws, trying to keep whatever fragile plan he has from slipping through his fingers. The wild promise he made only moments ago lingers between us, tangled up with the mess of everything else.

The detective's expression hardens, and he turns to Robin with an air of authority that makes my stomach clench. "Now, I think it's best if Robin waits outside, don't you think?" His voice is firm, leaving little room for argument, but I step forward, refusing to let Robin go just yet.

"No, it's okay. I want him here," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. My words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze—like I've drawn a line between myself and the detective, and he's considering whether or not to cross it.

The detective's jaw tightens, and his eyes bore into mine, but he shifts his attention back to Robin. "Robin?" His tone turns icier, more insistent. "My colleague will talk to you outside."

Robin lets out a heavy sigh, a mixture of resignation and frustration crossing his face. He stands slowly, like each movement costs him. I can see the way his shoulders sag under the weight of everything unspoken between us, everything he's trying to keep hidden. He takes a step toward the door, but hesitates when I reach out, my voice breaking through the tension.

"Wait!" I call after him, louder than I intended. He turns back to me, his face shadowed by uncertainty, like he's clinging to one last thread of hope. I don't know what to say, the words twisting up in my throat. But I manage a small, shaky nod, forcing a half-hearted smile that doesn't reach my eyes. It's all I can give him.

He stands there for a beat longer, absorbing whatever I just communicated with that small gesture. A flicker of relief, tentative and fragile, crosses his features, but it's tinged with confusion. He doesn't understand, not fully, but he's willing to take whatever scrap I'm offering him. With a final look, he turns and follows the other officers out, leaving me alone in the too-quiet room.

As the door swings shut behind him, the detective shifts his attention back to me, his expression carefully neutral. But there's a spark in his eyes, a sharpness that tells me he's reading every single crack in my facade. I brace myself, knowing that whatever comes next, I'm far from ready for it.

The detective leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees, his expression almost sympathetic—but not quite. It's like he's wearing a mask of concern, but the eyes behind it are all business. "I understand you're scared," he says, voice gentle. "But this is your chance to come clean. Tell me what you know about Cole's death, and I promise, we'll help you."