The following day, Nick Larsen's voice crackled over the phone line, requesting Jeffrey's presence at the station. There was news. Jeffrey's heart leapt, hope warring with dread as he imagined what information the detectives might have uncovered. He dressed hurriedly, his mind racing with possibilities. Perhaps they had a suspect, or some crucial piece of evidence had come to light. Within half an hour, he was striding through the doors of the police station, his anticipation palpable.
Nick Larsen's office, which he shared with Christian, occupied a corner of the second floor in the nondescript gray building that housed the Austin Police Department. As Jeffrey entered, Nick was struck by the sheriff's haggard appearance. It was clear Jeffrey had barely slept; his clothes were rumpled, his face drawn and pale beneath its usual ruddy hue.
The office itself was a study in understated functionality. Roughly twenty square meters in size, its walls were painted a light, soothing color that contrasted with the dark, well-maintained floors. Three desks dominated the space: Nick's, Christian's opposite, and a third, currently unoccupied desk beside Nick's. A large, clean window dominated one wall, though today the cloudy sky beyond offered little natural light. The overhead fixtures compensated, casting a bright glow over the room. To one side, a filing cabinet stood sentinel, its drawers likely filled with the paper trails of countless cases. All the furniture was done in light colors, lending the space an air of openness despite its modest size.
"Hello, Jeffrey," Nick greeted, gesturing to a chair beside his desk. "Please, have a seat."
Jeffrey lowered himself into the chair, his movements awkward and tense. He studied Nick's expression, trying to gauge what news awaited him. The detective's face gave little away, but there was a heaviness to his demeanor that made Jeffrey's heart sink.
"I'll go grab some coffee," Christian announced, sensing the need for privacy. He slipped on his jacket and quietly exited the office. As the door clicked shut behind him, Nick took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.
"We've received the pathologist's report and the analysis from the crime scene," Nick began, his voice carefully controlled. "I'm afraid the news isn't good, Jeffrey." He paused, lowering his eyes for a moment before meeting the sheriff's gaze once more.