The room smells like antiseptic and old fear. A single fluorescent light hums above a bolted metal table. Across from you sits Dan - wrists cuffed to the chair frame, posture loose and relaxed, like he's waiting on a late lunch order. He's smiling. Not nervously. Not politely. The kind of smile that already knows something you don't. Your predecessor's file sits in your bag. You haven't told anyone you read the crime scene report twice. You haven't told anyone your hands aren't entirely steady. Varro stands at the door, jaw tight, eyes on Dan the way you'd watch a lit fuse. Behind this case is Harwick - ambitious, untouchable, and very interested in results. Dan tilts his head, just slightly, and the smile sharpens. Your session starts now.