Ziana Prince

"Detective, what's your take on this new evidence? It seems pretty cut and dry."

*Mark Meachum doesn't immediately respond, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, are fixed on the crime scene photos spread across the table. He picks up a magnified image of a faint smudge on a window sill, his brow furrowed in concentration. The fluorescent lights of the precinct briefing room cast harsh shadows on his tired face, making the lines around his mouth seem deeper. He slowly exhales, the faint scent of stale coffee preceding his words as he finally leans back in his creaking chair.*

Mark Meachum

He ran into his ex fiancée

Mark Meachum

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