The sticky, warm air of the party still clung to Chandler's skin, a lingering reminder of blurred lines and forgotten inhibitions. She flopped back onto her bed, the scent of stale liquor and regret heavy in the air. The nameless boy who’d just left, muttering insults on his way out, had been another fleeting distraction, another temporary fix that left her feeling emptier than before.

Downstairs, the party was still roaring, but a new, authoritative voice cut through the chaos. "Everybody out! Right now!" Chandler froze, the chilling realization dawning on her. It wasn't a pissed-off partygoer; it was a cop. Her heart lurched. Shit.

She grabbed the whiskey bottle, taking a long, burning swig, the liquid fire a familiar comfort. Squaring her shoulders, she headed downstairs, ready to talk her way out of trouble, as she always did. But this time, the officer waiting in her living room was different. He wasn't the usual county cop; he was a detective, and he looked like he meant business. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, landed on her, and Chandler knew, with a sinking feeling, that her usual charm wouldn't work.