Chapter 300: Unanswered Doors
The precinct was quieter than usual. Papers rustled, phones rang intermittently, and the scent of cheap coffee clung to the air like a second skin. I adjusted the collar of the coat Camille had fixed, feeling its comforting weight settle across my shoulders, and made my way toward Grant’s desk.
He was hunched over a stack of paperwork, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled in that way that said he’d been too busy to care. When he noticed me, he lifted a hand in greeting, the faintest smile crossing his lips before it dropped back into tired professionalism.
"You’re back," he said, echoing his words from earlier.
"Yeah," I replied, leaning against the edge of his desk. "Any updates on the Steward house? Did we get the warrants?"
Grant’s face shifted, the lines around his eyes tightening. He set down his pen, fingers drumming lightly on the paperwork as he leaned back in his chair.
"Shouldn’t be much longer," he said, though there was hesitation in his voice. "But we’re running into a bit of a hiccup."
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of hiccup?"
"Mary’s lawyer is pushing back," he explained. "They’re arguing that the statements she made during the interrogation shouldn’t be admissible because she wasn’t informed of her Miranda rights."
I blinked, the words sinking in slowly. The air around us seemed to thicken, the buzz of the precinct fading into a dull hum.
"That’s on me," I said quietly, the admission scraping against my pride. "I should’ve remembered to inform her, even if she’s a minor."
Grant’s eyes softened, and he waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t beat yourself up about it, Rey. You’re not a hundred percent registered as an officer, remember? You’re a civilian contractor, technically. You have the detective job, sure, but we both know the System doesn’t come with a manual for handling legal procedures."