The heels stopped at a chair, where the lady would sit down after adjusting her tightly knit suit. Once she laid her elbows on the chair, the body went still - lifeless of all expecting movements. Her legs may as well be cemented in the ground with her arms stitched to the stiff flexibility of this rolling furniture. The woman's body had no evidence of life in her, as if a statue had just been placed in front of a hardened wooden desk, laminated enough to vibrantly reflect the harsh fluorescent of the lights above her fedora. Her face was entirely covered by shadows, forcing the imagery of the man before her to trace whatever shape nature had given her face if she didn't reveal herself.

  Unlike the woman, the man's face was slightly dried with a few wrinkles around his cheeks that were accompanied by the creases caused by the furrowing of his brows. His receding white hair flowed down to his nape, gently causing a slight white wave while beads of sweat moisturized his forehead. His hands interlocked with his sturdy fingers while his lean chin was resting, his mouth tightly shut while he let out an exhale through the nose. His dull, brown eyes were fixated on the only thing he could see in front of him, two golden orbs. The orbs blinked, and he remained silent as he processed why they existed.

  Those were her eyes.

  Clearing his extremely dry throat, his mouth moved without a sound, and he had to push his vocal cords to talk.

  "A-alright. I assume you understand why you are here. Correct, Detective Ingram?"

  The woman gently removed her fedora, bringing her daint hands to grasp the top and place it on her lap, giving the gentleman a full exposure of her face. She had a light tone of brown in her skin, a small, fragile face, and large eyes. Her hair had fallen into its place in a sharpened, stylish bob with few strands poking out towards the bottom. Her mouth didn't move an inch, but she let out a gentle hum before letting silence fall.

  She spoke through it.

  "What have you discovered, Chief Marley?"

  Her voice had a distinct call to it. Marley couldn't bring himself to speak, but it was one of the softest tones he had ever heard, forcing the veteran of this occupation to blink twice. But underneath it, he could sense a hidden layer of authority in it, like it was ready to burst to create a contrast of voice that could turn heads in fear. He considered it a warning, as he had no choice but to reveal everything now.

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  "We have found a new victim. Someone under critical condition." He reached down and pulled out a folder that was about twenty-five pages thick to place on the desk, sliding it slowly in Zola's direction. She continued to stare at Marley's pupils while he talked. "This is one of the more gruesome cases I've ever seen. This is definitely torture, but on a scale so horrendous."

  "I've heard the subject has been mutilated in the hands of a knowledgeable person, on the same level as a surgeon. I've yet to witness the details."

  "Well, it's hear if you wanna read it, then-" He motioned to the file still on the desk, tapping it with his palm.

  "What else must I know?"

  Zola interrupted him with a voice of a slightly different tone. Marley stopped his movements, trying to detect anything that her face would indicate. She was still lifeless, her eyes fixated on him. He blinked twice while he was thinking.

  She was staring at his face the entire time, never breaking contact.

  ". . . The victim had passed away. The autopsy report is being worked on. But, y-yes. This is by the works of someone who had definitely learned from medical school. Scars were carefully made to the more vulnerable parts of the body. A witness, who arrived at the scene to assist them had indicated thrown needles and gauze all over the floor as if they were trailed from their running. If I must say, they were escaping from whoever did those terrible things to them."

  He paused to cover his mouth, composing himself to prevent gagging in his office walls. Zola continued to stare.

  "On top of that, the kidnapping cases are still a hot topic, and we are running to a corner, detective. The worst thing I fear is that the kidnapper is doing this to their victims, and if what happened to that person was the result... Who knew what that monster could be capable of."

  Zola's hands slowly drifted to the hardness of her hat, bringing them up to her black hair to cover her face with the shadow that covered her features.

  Marley let out a trembling breath, looking at the clock on his wall urgently. "Detective Ingram. I have my complete trust in you. I am told you are the best, but I don't care about your rewards. I don't care about... w-who you are. I just need your help, and in return, I have plenty of men and women ready to join up with you. I'm at my wit's end, and the fate of our lives is in our hands now. We cannot, and I repeat, we cannot make this any worse. If this escalates, further, this will be not only in the local news, this may as well be broadcast in the world, marking in the history books for the worst reason possible. Ingram, please, I beg of you, do not fail this."

  Immediately, he heard the voice again, like a comforting set of hands that eased his anxiety. But in a physical sense, he could've sworn those eyes got narrower underneath the harsh shadow.

  "You have my word. But, you must never break. When one falls, we all follow suit."