Before walking out, the younger detective paused by Valorian. “You’re a good boy,” she said softly. He lifted his head, solemn as a priest. Something unspoken passed between them—respect, maybe. Then they turned toward the doors. Elena watched them go, unaware that the real clue was still sitting patiently at her feet.
Hours slipped past, marked only by the soft hiss of machines and the rhythmic sighs of the sleeping girl. Every time Elena looked up from her charting, she found the same sight: Valorian at the glass, patient, alert, waiting. Not even the cleaning crew could bring themselves to chase him away.