monotone.
He took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on me like a predator assessing a wounded animal.
“You want to tell me why you’re sitting in my precinct tonight, Maya?”
“I imagine you’re going to tell me, Detective,” I replied, my voice completely level, stripped of any emotion or tremor.
Vance’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t like the absolute lack of fear in my eyes. It broke the script he was used to.
He flipped the manila folder open.
“At 9:14 p.m. tonight, a black
