"Can we please talk about this?" Molly pleaded, her voice trembling slightly. She sat stiffly in the cold chair of Interrogation Room #3, her hands fidgeting nervously on the table.

Detective Inspector Ferrer, leaning casually against the table, gave her a measured look. "Miss Gomez, let me clarify—you’re not under arrest," he said. "This is merely an interrogation. Cooperation will only help us."

Molly’s gaze flickered to the one-way mirror, her reflection barely visible in the harsh fluorescent light. "I—I don’t understand why I’m here," she said, her voice cracking.

Ferrer placed a file on the table and slid it towards her. "Then let’s make it clear, shall we?" he said, flipping open the file. "We have a few questions about your connection to Miss Amara Turner and what happened the day you visited her."

Raine stood by the watch glass, the faint chill of the afternoon brushing against her skin. She had slipped out of her flat’s window just after three, unnoticed by Zane. Christopher’s message had been brief but urgent—Molly was next to be questioned, following the police’s earlier interrogation of Andrea.

“What’s your impression of this young lady?” Christopher asked, his gaze fixed on the room beyond. “You didn’t bother coming for Ms. Mercado’s turn. Why’s that?”

Inside, Molly’s voice trembled as she replied, “Sir, if this is about Ms. Amara... I don’t know anything about how or why she died.”

Raine’s expression remained unreadable. “Let’s wait and see,” she murmured. “Trust isn’t something we can afford to give lightly.”

“Fair point,” said Chris.

“What’s the team found? You mentioned new results,” Raine asked.

“The analysis revealed traces of hallucinogenic drugs in Amara’s last meal,” Christopher replied. “A lethal dose. It spiked her anxiety, which ultimately led to her death.”

Raine’s lips curved into a smirk. “So, not some mythological mystery after all. I knew it.”

“Where’s your companion? Grown tired of him, have you?” he teased.

“He’s... been acting strange lately,” Raine admitted, her voice faltering. “Something feels off, and I don’t want to add to his stress.”

Christopher hesitated, his words trailing off as a memory flashed across his mind. “So, you’re finally... showing concern for others,” he said at last, clearing his throat to mask the weight behind his remark.

“First of all,” began Detective Sergeant Cruz, her voice steady as she delivered the familiar caution, echoed softly by Raine as she observed from behind the glass, “anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Molly replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her feet tapped nervously beneath the table, betraying her unease as her eyes flicked to the papers the officers shuffled before her.

“You have the right to consult an attorney before answering any questions and to have one present during questioning,” the sergeant continued. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at no cost before questioning, should you wish.”

“Do you understand the rights that have been explained to you?” DI Ferrer asked, his tone firm.

“Yes, sir,” Molly replied.

“Please print your name here,” DS Cruz instructed, tapping the designated line on the document. Molly complied, neatly writing MOLLY AGUILERA.

“Now sign it, exactly as it appears on your Philippine ID,” Cruz added. Molly hesitated briefly before signing with a fluid motion of her left hand.

“Left-handed, is she?” Chris murmured, his brow lifting slightly.

“For Amara’s case, it won’t make much difference,” Raine said coolly. “No fingerprints to work with.”

DS Cruz stepped out, the signed document in hand, and placed it atop the growing stack of files. Her gaze shifted, catching sight of Raine. “Oh, it’s you again,” she remarked with a hint of exasperation.

“Yes, ma’am. Always a pleasure,” Raine replied with a saccharine smile, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

DI Ferrer wasted no time, his voice cutting through the exchange. “From the start, all we’ve needed is an explanation. Why did you accompany Ms. Mercado to the victim’s house? Alongside the footprints we discovered, we also found strands of your hair inside, same as hers.”

“I was just…” Molly hesitated, searching for the right words. “Ma’am Andrea mentioned that she and the author of one of my favourite books had collaborated. She said she’d be going to Ms. Amara’s house, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to finally meet her.”

“Start from the beginning,” DI Ferrer insisted. “Tell us when you first met Ms. Andrea.”

Molly’s gaze dropped to her hands, then back up. “Oh. I’m her student this semester. I’m a second-year history major, just like her,” she explained. “We’ve got a good rapport, even though we’re not, like, related or anything.”

“Right,” DI Ferrer nodded, making a note.

"But there's something I need to tell you," Molly said, her voice shaking. "Please... Please don't let anyone know about this, especially Ms. Andrea." Her anxious aura intensified, her fidgeting growing more frantic.

"Interesting," Raine observed, her eyes narrowing. "She's terrified, but she’s desperate to reveal whatever it is she knows."

"Go ahead," DS Cruz said, returning to the room. "You have the right to speak, and your secret’s safe with us."

“When… when I first saw… Ms. Amara,” Molly stammered, swallowing hard. “When I first saw her, I… I realized she was nothing like I imagined. She looked so… depressed, and… I don’t even understand why—why Ms. Andrea would choose to work with her.”

“Alright, we’re listening,” DI Ferrer prompted, his gaze fixed on her.

“Where do you live?” DS Cruz asked, sitting down beside the inspector, both now facing Molly.

“I live in the barangay just before theirs, ma’am,” Molly replied, her voice quiet. “It would take about 45 minutes to walk to their house.”

“Ms. Mercado said something different earlier,” DS Cruz remarked. “She described Ms. Turner as a very friendly woman.”

“Maybe Ms. Turner charmed her,” Molly suggested. “But she gave me a chill, and her house was a complete mess. I even thought she was a witch! I got sick after visiting her!”

The officers exchanged a glance, their eyes widening with intrigue.

“Could it be that they ingested the poison back then?” Chris asked Raine, his voice lowered in thought. “What if Ms. Turner did commit suicide and tried to poison the others, too?”

“Hold on,” Raine interjected, her brow furrowing. “What did Mrs. Suarez and Ms. Andrea say when they were interviewed?”

“Nothing,” Chris replied, his gaze thoughtful. “But… what if she just disliked Molly?”

DI Ferrer leaned forward. “Did you eat or drink anything while you were there?”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t think it’s about what we ate or drank, sir. Ms. Mercado had coffee, too, but she didn’t get sick.”

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

After the interview, they released Molly, who was still visibly shaken from her confession. The team gathered in Ferrer’s office, where he stood at the blackboard, scribbling notes.

“Molly might be innocent, which leaves us with lingering questions about the people in the neighbourhood and Amara Turner herself,” the inspector said.

Raine stood up, grabbing a piece of chalk without a word and stepping forward to the board.

“The area was thoroughly scanned, and no poison was found. You might suspect it was the coffee, but there was nothing lethal in the kitchen—not even in the stored medications for cough, headache, or fever,” Raine explained, her voice clear and matter-of-fact.

“What if Amara disposed of the coffee and replaced it with something else—” Chris began.

“After she died?” Raine shot back with sharp sarcasm. “What, she got up after ingesting a lethal dose of poison, replaced the coffee, then lay back down again?”

“Why are you so annoyed, Ms. De Verra? We’re doing our best to solve this case, and you know that!” DS Cruz retorted, her frustration rising.

“Sergeant Cruz, Raine, let’s all calm down,” DI Ferrer interjected, stepping between them. “Now, the record from the ear piece we sent to Zane Nuñez proved invaluable. We’ve managed to cover a lot of ground, which should help confirm their statements.”

“Speaking of the ear piece, where is it? You only sent a digital record to Christine this morning,” Chris remarked.

“I planted it on Nuñez’s jacket,” she replied. “I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”

“What suspicions,  exactly?” Chris asked, his gaze sharp.

“Confidential,” she answered curtly, turning back to the board. “Now, what exactly did you find out about Amara? What kind of food was it?”

“Egg,” Chris said. “According to her pathologist’s report, she must have eaten scrambled eggs about three hours before her death.”

“Did you check the pots… pans? It must’ve been fresh when you first entered the scene?” DS Cruz asked.

“We did, and we found no traces of any poisonous substance,” Chris replied.

Raine’s eyes suddenly widened, a realization dawning on her. “What if someone took the poison, or she gave it to someone else before…” she began, then froze, her mind flashing an image of Amara eating the egg. “It must have been cooked somewhere else. Or she could’ve eaten it somewhere before she went home and died.” The image quickly faded as she spoke.

“But where? According to her neighbours, she always stays inside her house,” DI Ferrer asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

“She only has one person she trusts nearby, and that would be…” DS Cruz began, her voice trailing off as she and Raine spoke in unison, “Mrs. Suarez.”

“Scrambled eggs need salt. Could it be the salt or the egg?” Chris pondered aloud.

“I thought about the salt she used on the lumpia when we entered her house,” Raine responded, her gaze fixed ahead. “I wondered if that could’ve been the reason we experienced hallucinations. I tested the lumpia she gave us, but no chemicals were found.”

She began pacing around the room, her mind racing.

“What are you even doing there in the first place?” DS Cruz asked.

“Investigating, clearly, ma’am,” Raine replied without missing a beat.

“Does she know about that?” the sergeant asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What if she made two versions of it and, in the morning, gave us the non-poisoned ones?” Raine suggested. “She must have planned it all out, which is why she so openly accepted strangers into her house. Or maybe she slipped one or two doses with drugs into the batch, and by sheer coincidence, Zane ended up taking them. That could explain why my samples came back negative.”

“Oh, yes. Sam told me about your experiment with your personal assistant,” DI Ferrer said, offering a small smile. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a lethal dose, or else…”

“Again, Mr. George, it was not poison,” Raine cut in. “I also took some myself, so it was just a probability that Zane experienced hallucinations that time.”

“Going back, what could be her motive?” DS Cruz asked skeptically. “They’re friends, remember?”

“Andrea, too,” Chris chimed in, “But I think that lady was only her friend because of paperwork.”

Just then, Raine’s screen vibrated with a new message. “Zane got a text from an unknown person.”

“You read the man’s text?” Chris asked, his tone wary.

“Only anonymous texts he receives are duplicates of the ones sent to my number,” she replied, her eyes still on the screen. “Don’t worry, I’m not invading his privacy. I’m just investigating him. He mentioned he’d been kidnapped before, and I wonder who that might be… it must be the serial killer.”

“What does the text say?” DS Cruz asked.

“Noli Street, Saint Bartholomew Chapel, 5 in the afternoon,” Raine read aloud. “That’s where he must’ve been kidnapped.”

“Do you really think it’ll be the killer? Is he involved in this?” Chris asked, his tone skeptical.

“The killer’s been toying with us recently, and I have a strong feeling they know about Zane, too,” Raine replied. “I have a hunch he might be in trouble.”

“Then what should we do?” Chris asked, his voice edged with concern.

“I’ll send reinforcements to monitor the area for anything suspicious,” DI Ferrer said, his jaw set. “I’ll also go myself, just in case something goes wrong.” He turned to DS Cruz. “Sergeant, I’ll leave you here to handle any new reports.”

“I’m going with you,” Raine said.

“But you’re still a civilian, Raine,” her cousin replied, his concern clear.

“But Zane’s my friend, and I don’t want to lose another loved one,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “Besides, I have a mini dart gun made and designed by yours truly,” she added, pulling a small weapon from her shoulder bag as she walked toward the chair where she had been sitting.

“One pellet’s enough to make a grown man fall asleep,” she said confidently.