“Can you state your name for me, please?” the detective asked, his voice even.

Caleb adjusted his tie slightly before answering, “Caleb Merrit.” His tone was like silk, a kind of voice that closed more deals than you could dream of.

Per routine, the detective asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine,” Caleb responded.

“Where do you reside?”

“Manhattan,” Caleb said. A faint prideful curl tugged at his lip. “Born and raised. The perfect place, if you can afford it.”

“Sorry, I meant your actual address,” Renner replied.

“Oh, 217 W 57th St, top floor,” Caleb exclaimed.

The detective scribbled something down but didn’t look up. The sound of writing filled the quiet within the walls.

“Mr. Merrit,” he said after a pause, “What were you doing at 7:34 on October seventeenth?”

Caleb leaned back, exhaling through his nose like a man with absolutely nothing to hide. “I can tell you exactly what I was doing.”

Renner’s pen paused. Caleb’s eyes drifted past him, as if he were replaying a memory on some private screen. His mind flew thirty floors up, in the Merritt Financial Building, where he had been in his office. The large glass walls reflected the New York skyline, and the smell of money permeated the place. He’d just ended a call with a foreign investor, a lucrative deal that would push his company into another tax bracket—or a lack of tax at all.

Caleb was ecstatic; he knew this deal would go through and even be the success he needed to make his father proud. As he made his way back to his suite, Karen, his assistant, was on the floor in the connecting hallway. Her blouse was torn, her hair was matted to her face, and the gray carpet she lay on was soon to be fully drenched in blood.

Back in the interrogation room, Caleb felt the silence in the air. He noticed the intense and slightly desperate look on Detective Renner’s face. The silence in the room had thickened, and after rehearsing his personal truth, he was ready to talk. Detective Renner listened to Caleb’s story closely, praying for any faults, though it ultimately seemed legible.

“Mr. Merrit,” the detective said, folding his hands intentionally. “I need you to walk me through what happened next, after you found Ms. Hollis on the floor.”

Caleb tilted his head, studying the detective the way he might study a quarterly report. He leaned forward and smoothly said, “Of course. I–I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. So I called the police immediately. I didn’t touch her. I swear, I didn’t touch anything.”

The detective’s pen paused. “You’re sure you didn't touch her?”

Caleb didn’t blink. “Yes. I wanted to help her but…I was afraid I’d make things worse.”

His words slipped out so easily that it almost sounded like the truth.

Truthfully, the office had been quiet that night—too quiet for Karen to hear him coming up behind her.

“Caleb, the documents you asked for—” she’d started to say, turning toward him with a loving smile. He hated that smile; too chipper, too bright for someone like her. The metal pipe connected before she could gasp in fright. The first hit silenced her, and the second made sure she wouldn’t scream. After that, it was a matter of careful precision: the correct angle, the right amount of force, and the steady rhythm of someone who had experience.

When she fell, she grabbed and scratched his right sleeve in her final reflex. Her sharp nails caught the edge of his black glove, tearing a small, crescent-shaped slit just beneath the knuckle. Caleb didn’t notice the slit falling to the ground and later disposed of the glove neatly.

Regardless, everything was going according to plan. He almost felt a sliver of emotion for her, even if the killing, at least to him, was necessary. He then peeled her limp and useless hand away, letting her arm fall onto the carpet. A quick wipe of the desk. A rearranged chair. Two steps back to breathe. Caleb loved every second of it. He practiced the shock in the window, the perfect picture of horror. Then he called 911.

Caleb finished his story with a deep and vulnerable sigh, one that would’ve earned him an award if acting had ever interested him.

“I just… I just keep seeing her like that,” he murmured, lowering his gaze from the eyes of the detective. “It doesn't feel real,” he sighed.

The detective watched him for a long moment. The kind of silence that can peel a man open. Finally: “Alright, Mr. Merrit. That’ll do for now.”

“Thank you so much, sir. I hope justice is served,” Caleb added.

“Mhmm,” the detective replied.

Caleb let out a breath and formed a small but confident smile on his face. He then straightened his suit and smoothed the lapels. Walking to the door made him feel lighter than he’d felt all day.

Detective Renner watched him go, expression unreadable. Only after the door shut did he reach into the file beside him. It contained a photograph of a tiny slit of some unknown material, zoomed in on with a faint crescent shape. This was all the crime scene investigators could find. It wasn’t enough to understand the situation, but enough to know something was off.

Renner slid the evidence back into the file with a slight grin, tapping it once with his thumb. Meanwhile, Caleb walked down the hallway, confident, a stride filled with zero doubt. Though at that moment, he had no idea that perfection wasn’t perfect enough.

Detective Renner couldn’t fathom sleeping that night. Not from fear—but from the quiet ache of something being unresolved, something that itched him long after Caleb walked out of the precinct with that slightly smug face. The drive home was nothing but a blur of headlights smearing across the windshield.

His house greeted him the same way it always did: silent, dim, cluttered in a way that suggested no one lived there. His daughter's shoes were still by the door, pink and scuffed on the toes. He picked one up, brushing the little heart charm on the lace with his thumb. She’d drawn him a picture once, “Daddy the Hero”; he still had it taped above his desk at the station. The crayon badge was crooked, but the smile she gave him was perfect. He’d been trying to earn that smile back. Trying to show her he could hold a life together, even as his marriage crumbled and her mother packed up more boxes each week.

Tonight, though, he felt the old determination return. He had something on Merritt. It wasn’t enough yet, but it could be. He kissed his daughter's photo goodnight as she wasn't home for a real one. His wife took her to her sister’s place for the weekend, which he learned was code for “I need space from you.”

He whispered to himself, “I’m going to fix this, I need to.”

The next morning arose with a passion, and Renner was hopeful for a break in this case. He figured the next best step would be to visit the scene of the crime, even though he had no authority to be there alone. As he started on, the Merritt Financial tower pierced the skyline like a needle, pristine and cold.

Detective Renner had been here once, years ago, for a ridiculous charity gala that made him feel painfully out of place in his thrifted suit. Now, the lobby looked different, quieter but still lively. He began walking through the crowded place and noticed the expensively furnished environment. Pushing through what felt like a million people, he made his way to the receptionist and flashed his badge, requesting to visit the crime scene discreetly. She simply smiled politely and, with no question, let Renner through the elevators. Her smile held, but her eyes quickly darted to the elevator—too quickly to be casual.

Renner stepped inside the empty elevator, and the door slid shut with a whisper. As it rose, he rehearsed the things he’d say if he found Caleb in his office. He wasn’t here to confront him, just to peek around and maybe get lucky.

The doors opened to an oddly immaculate, perfectly designed top floor. As he started walking, he raised his camera to take additional pictures of the blocked off scene, the carpet, and the windows. Then he saw Caleb’s office at the end of the hallway and got a dangerous idea. It was risky business to snoop in there, but it had to be done.

He silently waltzed into Caleb’s luxurious suite and looked at his desk, the large silk-like couch on the side, and the kitchen section. And then by miracle, he found something that would put Caleb away for good: the murder glove. It was just lying in the center of the kitchen counter. Renner didn’t think anything of it until he noticed a slit missing underneath the knuckle of the glove.

He thought to himself, “This is it, oh my god, this is it.” His breath stopped as he went to reach for it, then suddenly, an intentionally timed click sounded. The sound wasn’t a camera or a pen; it was the door locking. Renner turned to find Caleb standing near the doorway with his hands in his pockets and an expression smooth as glass.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” exclaimed Caleb.

Showing the glove, Detective Renner replied, “What do you think?”

“Congratulations. You’ve caught me. But one thing, Detective, before you happen to turn me in or whatever, I have a quick question.”

“Proceed,” Renner replied.

“Would you like to be seasoned with oregano?” Caleb asked lightly, “Or something a bit more spicy? Personally, I enjoy both.”

Renner slowly swallowed, standing rigidly. “Okay, Caleb, this ends right now. No more games.”

“Oh, Detective,” Caleb laughed softly, “you have no idea how right you are.”

The lights snapped off. Darkness consumed everything. Caleb’s silhouette vanished from the doorway. Renner instinctively darted towards his holster—but he never made it. A blunt shock cracked against Renner’s skull. Burning pain burst between his eyes, and the floor rushed up to meet him. He hit the floor like a bullet. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Caleb sigh.

“Both it is,” Caleb murmured, crouching beside him.

Renner couldn't move, his vision swimming and breath shallow. Caleb leaned closer. His voice lowered to a whisper meant only for dying ears.

“You know, Detective…I am sorry this happened to you. You seemed like a decent guy,” Caleb said in finality.

Detective Renner blinked slowly. The world dimmed. His daughter’s pink shoes flickered through the dark. He could faintly hear her calling him “Daddy the Hero,” though it was a title he never quite earned. As the darkness swallowed anything left of him, Caleb started to clean up the mess.

By noon, Merritt Tower sang with business as usual. Phones were ringing and deals were closing. Caleb shuffled through the lobby with the same smooth confidence he always had, pausing only to adjust his favorite cuff link.

Detective Renner’s body would never be found, and he was later pronounced missing and presumed dead. And just like Renner’s marriage, the world—and Caleb—moved on without him.