The room, once buzzing with frantic energy, had settled into a tense, frustrated hum.
The clatter of keyboards slowed. Heads dipped lower into screens. Some officers leaned back in their chairs, exhaustion creeping into their bodies even as their minds refused to stop working.
Jordan's face was tight with focus, his fingers drumming impatiently against the table. He could feel it—the wall they kept hitting. Every lead they chased turned cold. Every thread they followed frayed into nothing.
The Chief stood at the head of the room, arms folded, his eyes sharp and restless.
"We need a different approach," Jordan muttered under his breath, almost to himself.
That was when one of the tactical officers, Sergeant Laye, raised his hand slightly, voice breaking through the stagnant air.
"Sir... what if we're missing something obvious?" he said. "What if... instead of chasing all these random links, we just focus directly on the people closest to the governor's son?"
