Liam is called into the interrogation room for further questioning.
The walls of the interrogation room were pale gray, the kind of color meant to feel neutral but that always made people uneasy.
Liam sat with his hands clasped on the metal table, staring at the scuff marks on its surface. A single fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Every sound the scratch of a pen, the squeak of the chair echoed too loud in the silence.
Detective Marla Greene entered, a folder tucked under her arm. She placed it carefully on the table before sitting across from him. Her expression was calm, her tone conversational but her eyes were sharp.
"Thank you for coming in, Liam," she began. "I know this isn't easy."
Liam nodded stiffly. "Of course, ma'am. I just want to help."
"That's good," Greene said, flipping open the folder. "Let's start simple. You said last time that you and Emily were just friends?"
"Yes," he said quickly. "We were. She… she helped the team sometimes. Took photos, handled media stuff."
"And how would you describe your friendship?"
Liam hesitated. "She was nice. Smart. Kind of shy at first, but she cared about people."
He forced a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Everyone liked her."
Greene watched him carefully. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"Uh…" Liam rubbed his hands together, eyes darting to the table. "It was about a day before before it happened. We ran into each other after practice. Talked for a bit."
"About what?"
"School. Her classes. Just normal stuff."
Greene leaned back in her chair. "And she didn't mention anything that was worrying her? Anyone she was having problems with?"
"No," he said quickly. "Nothing like that."
She nodded slowly, jotting something in her notebook. Then she slid a printed photo across the table a still frame from a security camera.
"This was taken near the athletic field around 8:30 p.m. the night Emily disappeared. The system malfunctioned shortly after this frame, but you can see two figures walking in that direction. One matches Emily's build. The other…" She looked up. "Well, it's hard to tell. But the height and gait are similar to yours."
Liam's throat tightened. "That could be anyone."
"Of course," Greene said evenly. "Do you remember where you were around that time?"
He hesitated a fraction too long. "In my dorm. Watching a game. I mean an away game replay. You can check."
She tapped her pen. "Alone?"
"Yeah. My roommate was out."
Greene gave a thoughtful hum. "We'll confirm that." She closed the folder gently. "Liam, you've been very cooperative, and I appreciate that. But I have to ask: did Emily ever seem afraid of you?"
His head snapped up. "What? No! Never."
"Did you two ever argue?"
"No. I mean not really. Maybe once, but it wasn't a big deal."
"What was it about?"
He swallowed. "I don't even remember."
Greene let the silence stretch, studying the way his jaw clenched. "Sometimes it's the small things that matter," she said softly. "People remember arguments differently when something happens."
Liam's pulse thudded in his ears. He wanted to get up, to leave, to breathe but he knew that standing would make him look guilty. So he stayed still, forcing his voice steady.
"I didn't hurt her," he said. "I'd never do that."
Greene nodded. "I hope that's true."
Behind the one-way glass, Mrs. Hayes watched. Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.
"He's lying," she whispered.
The observing officer beside her shifted uncomfortably. "We can't assume that, ma'am. He's just nervous."
"No," she said firmly. "Look at his eyes. He can't even say her name."
Greene's voice carried faintly through the speaker. "Liam, when did you last speak to Emily by phone or text?"
He frowned, thinking fast. "Uh… a few days before it happened. Just checking in."
Greene flipped to another page. "We checked your call logs. Your last text exchange was three weeks ago."
He froze. "Oh. Right. I forgot. It must've been earlier than I thought."
Mrs. Hayes' breath hitched. "Forgot?" she muttered. "He didn't forget anything."
Greene watched him for a moment longer, then leaned forward. "Liam, is there anything anything at all you want to tell me? Maybe something that didn't seem important before?"
Liam shook his head. "No. I already told you everything."
"All right." She stood, closing the folder. "That's all for today."
As she left the room, Liam exhaled shakily. His palms were slick with sweat.
When the door shut behind her, he whispered under his breath, "She doesn't know. She can't."
In the observation room, Greene joined Mrs. Hayes, removing her glasses. "He's hiding something," she said quietly. "I can't prove it yet, but I can feel it."
Mrs. Hayes turned toward her. "You think he killed my daughter?"
Greene paused. "I think he knows more than he's saying."
Mrs. Hayes folded her arms. "Then make him talk."
"We will," Greene said. "But not by force. He's careful. Whatever he's hiding it's buried deep. We push too hard now, he'll shut down completely."
Mrs. Hayes' voice trembled. "He looked calm. Too calm. Like he's rehearsed it."
Greene nodded. "That's what worries me."
Outside, Liam walked across the parking lot, the late afternoon sunlight glaring in his eyes. The sound of the door slamming behind him made him flinch.
He felt the weight of the detective's gaze even though she was no longer there.
As he reached his car, he caught his reflection in the window pale, drawn, eyes hollow.
"You're fine," he muttered to himself. "You said nothing wrong. You're fine."
But as he started the engine, he saw something on his windshield a single folded paper tucked under the wiper.
He looked around no one in sight.
Unfolding it, he read the words written in blocky, hurried letters:
"Stop lying. I know what you did."
His hands trembled. He crushed the note in his fist and drove off, the tires screeching against the pavement.
In the rearview mirror, the reflection of the campus field shimmered in the heat empty, but full of ghosts.