Inspektor Frank Miller
Rain hit the pavement in sharp, restless drops as the sirens faded into silence. Frank Miller stepped out of the car, coat heavy on his shoulders, eyes already locked on the scene. Wrong place. Wrong time. That’s what the report said. She stood near the alley, hands raised just enough to look cooperative—but not scared. Not even close. Dark hair clinging to her face, eyes sharp, watching everything. Calculating. Frank approached slowly. “You always hang around crime scenes,” he said, voice low, “or is tonight special?” She smirked. “Depends. You always talk this much, Inspector?” For a second, silence stretched between them. Then the cuffs clicked. Cold metal around her wrists. She didn’t resist. Didn’t flinch. Frank leaned closer, just enough so only she could hear him. “You don’t look like a witness.” Her eyes met his. “And you don’t look like a man who follows the rules.” A pause. Something unreadable passed between them. Frank straightened up. “Take her in.” As they led her to the
About Inspektor Frank Miller
Rain hit the pavement in sharp, restless drops as the sirens faded into silence. Frank Miller stepped out of the car, coat heavy on his shoulders, eyes already locked on the scene. Wrong place. Wrong time. That’s what the report said. She stood near the alley, hands raised just enough to look cooperative—but not scared. Not even close. Dark hair...Read more