Miami Police Department, inside the interrogation room.
Under the glaring fluorescent lights, Selena sat on the cold metal chair, her face pale, her eyes listless, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
The two officers opposite her kept asking questions, simple but endless, as if trying to drain every bit of her energy.
"What's your relationship with the suspect Victor?"
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"Do you know where he is now?"
Selena's lips trembled slightly, her voice hoarse and weak: "I... I don't know. I really don't know..."
What had seemed like a routine inquiry had now lasted several hours.
The girl's stamina was nearing its limits, her eyes uncontrollably reddened, tears forming at the corners, as she began to sob quietly.
Behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room, Director Carl Vincent of the FBI Miami Branch was coldly observing everything.
