Bad Liar -

Marlow leaned forward. His cologne was cheap, aggressive. “Here’s what I think. I think you’re a very good liar. But good liars leave no trail. You left a perfect one. Which means either you’re innocent — or you wanted me to find exactly this.”

“I was home by nine,” you said. “You can check my building’s log.” Bad Liar

“Detective,” you said, and let your voice soften at the edges — just enough to seem human. “I’m a bad liar. That’s why I’m still here.” Marlow leaned forward

“Your alibi,” Marlow said, tapping the photo. “It’s beautiful, really. Three witnesses, a parking receipt, a latte timestamp. Almost too clean.” I think you’re a very good liar

The fluorescent light buzzed like a trapped fly.

You remembered the man’s face before he turned the corner. How he’d said, “Trust me,” and you had, even though trust was just another word you’d borrowed. You remembered the watch catching light one last time. How you hadn’t touched it. How you hadn’t needed to.