The hospital room was too bright, too quiet. The walls were that same pale green every recovery wing seemed to love. A plastic pitcher of water sweated on the side table. Bianca didn’t touch it.

She sat upright in bed, wrapped in a gray blanket that smelled like bleach and maybe some other patient’s regret. Her eyes were clear, but her voice came out slow.

Darryl and Amara took the seats across from her no uniforms, no notepads out. Just eyes focused and full of unspoken questions.

“You said he never spoke to you directly,” Amara began, soft. “Not even once?”

Bianca shook her head. “Not until the end. Not until he realized I’d figured him out.”

“What did he say?”

“He said… ‘You think I don’t see what you’re doing.’”

Darryl glanced at Amara. That matched what Cortez had warned about paranoia cracking through the killer’s routine.

Bianca pulled her knees up under the blanket, wincing as her bruised shoulder bumped the railing. “He was methodical. Every action felt rehearsed. Even when he was mad, it was controlled. I think he wanted me scared but not broken. He needed me intact… like I was inventory.”

Amara leaned forward. “Do you remember anything about his face? A mark, a scar, anything unique?”

“No scars,” Bianca said, eyes narrowing. “But his eyes were the coldest I’ve ever seen. Light-colored. Not blue... more like steel.”

“Voice?”

“Low. Measured. Like someone who reads contracts for fun.”

That got a faint snort from Darryl.

Bianca offered a tired half-smile. “He didn’t say much. But I think... he recorded things. There was a beep sometimes when he was nearby. Like a tracker turning on. And the crate wasn’t just for storage. It was insulated. Maybe soundproof.”

Amara scribbled something quick in her notebook now. “Did he ever mention Victor Martel? Cortez?”

“Martel?” Bianca shook her head. “No. But Cortez… I think he was in the room once. I heard two voices. Cortez’s accent is hard to miss.”

Darryl sat back, nodding slowly. “That’s enough to tie a line between all three of them. You just gave us leverage we didn’t have before.”

Bianca looked between the two of them. “So, what happens now?”

Amara’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now we find the man behind this. Cortez gave us breadcrumbs, and you just handed us the map.”

Darryl stood, adjusting his jacket. “We’re gonna make sure he never touches anyone else again.”

Bianca let out a slow breath. Not relief, exactly. Not yet. But something close.