"Do you know Dolores?" I asked directly, my voice flat, leaving no room for evasion.
Cassandra's gaze flickered, a small reaction, barely noticeable—but I caught it.
"Who?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly, feigning curiosity. Then she leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Say that again?"
I did.
This time, she didn't repeat herself. She only stared, the faintest furrow forming between her brows. She was intrigued now, whether she wanted to show it or not.
I'd spent years reading people, peeling them open, unraveling their lies thread by thread.
But Cassandra? She was something else. Every rule of body language, every subconscious tell—I could spot them in a second. But she? She rewrote them.
"Dolores Perez," I said again, slower.
"First time I'm hearing that name."
Lies.
"Money can do a lot of things, right?" I leaned back, watching her closely. "Even turn a criminal into a saint. A highly charitable one, at that."
Cassandra smiled, small and amused.
"Perhaps I'm a philanthropist, then."
"Right. A philanthropist who doesn't care about money?"
"Money's the last thing I care about," she said smoothly.
"Funny, because Dolores Perez received a wire transfer—fifty grand, no sender. Along with a jar."
She arched a brow. "A jar?"
"With a… preserved specimen inside." I paused, letting the weight of it settle. "Genitals."
Silence.
Then she laughed. It wasn't forced or defensive. It was light, genuinely amused.
"Oh, Lorr," she sighed, shaking her head.
"You think I collect dicks now? That's actually hilarious."
"Well, considering your history with eyes, I figured you might've expanded your interests."
She grinned, tapping a manicured finger against her cheek. "Mmm, no. I prefer a theme."
"So you're saying it wasn't you."
"I'm saying," she leaned forward, voice lowering just slightly, "if I wanted to send a message, I'd make sure it was unmistakably mine."
I studied her, searching for a crack in the act.
Nothing.
But something was there. A flicker. A shadow in her expression.
I didn't know if she was lying.
But I knew one thing—Dolores Perez meant something to her.
I didn't laugh. I let the silence stretch, watching her.
"I never said you loved it," I replied coolly.
"I'm saying it happened. And you're the only person who fits the pattern."
Cassandra exhaled, tilting her head, eyes flicking to the side in brief thought before landing back on me.
"Dolores," she repeated the name, dragging it out like she was rolling it around in her mind.
Then she smiled. "A woman receiving a generous sum and a little… gift? How poetic."
"It's not poetic. It's a message."
"To whom?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
She tapped her fingers against the table, the sound light, deliberate. "You know, Lorr, for a man so keen on details, you've got quite the imagination. Genitals, really? That's grotesque, even for me."
"You're not denying anything."
"Why should I? It's much more entertaining to see what else you'll accuse me of."
He clenched his jaw.
"You can play games all you want, but I know you're connected to this. Money doesn't just fall into the laps of people like Dolores Perez. And no one sends that kind of package without a reason."
She leaned in, her voice lowering to a whisper, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Tell me, detective… what do you think the message was?"
I stayed silent. I had theories. None of them were good.
"I'll take that as a no comment," she smirked, sitting back again. "Well, if you ever figure it out, do let me know. I do love a good mystery."
He stood, his patience wearing thin. "This isn't over, Cassandra."
"It never is, darling."
I walked out, but her voice lingered, curling around him like smoke.