In the dimly lit police station, the hum of computers filled the room as Katrina reclined in her chair, her sharp heels resting on the edge of the desk. A flickering surveillance video played on her monitor, the loop repeating again and again. Her lips curled into a sly grin, and her fingers drummed lazily on the table.
"Hey, Christopher," she drawled, not bothering to look over her shoulder.
A voice, laced with irritation, cut through the hum. "It's Kaira, ma'am." The woman stepped into the light, her yellowish hair catching the glow of the monitor.
Katrina waved a dismissive hand, her grin widening. "Ah, Christopher, Kaira—does it matter?"
Kaira's teeth clenched, her jaw tightening visibly, but she kept her tone neutral. "Miss Katrina, why are you smiling?"
