After hanging around Sector 7 for about half an hour, I decided to go meet Ryan and share with him how happy I was meeting my new team and how comfortable the environment seemed. I was eager to tell him all about my new role and the exciting projects I would be working on. I had been looking forward to this moment all morning, and I couldn't wait to see the look of excitement on Ryan's face.
But when I arrived at his normal position, he wasn't there. I looked around, thinking maybe he had stepped away for a minute, but he was nowhere to be found. I checked the break room, the conference room, and even the outdoor patio, but there was no sign of Ryan.
I decided to call his phone, trying his line for a few times. After ringing, he wouldn't pick up. I started to feel a sense of unease, wondering what could be wrong. Why wasn't he picking up? I asked myself, continuously trying his line, but getting no answer.
Just as I was starting to get worried, the entrance door to Sector 3 opened, and two policemen and two detectives walked in. They scanned the room, their eyes locking onto me, and walked straight towards me. I could tell by their serious expressions that something was wrong.
"Are you Mr. Gabriel?" one of the detectives asked, his voice firm and authoritative.
"Yes, I am," I replied, feeling a sense of confusion and concern. "What's going on?"
The detective hesitated for a moment before speaking. "We've received a report that you're a suspect in Mr. Ryan's murder. We need you to come with us to the station."
I was taken aback, my mind racing with questions. What were they talking about? What did they mean by Ryan's murder? What had happened to Ryan? I felt like I had been punched in the gut, and I couldn't catch my breath.
"Ryan's murder?" I repeated, trying to process the information. "But that's impossible. I just saw him yesterday. We were celebrating my promotion together. He was fine, happy, and healthy. What are you talking about?"
The detectives exchanged a glance, their expressions grim. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Gabriel," one of them said. "Ryan was found dead this morning. And we have evidence that suggests you were the last person to see him alive."
I felt like I was in a nightmare, and I couldn't wake up. Ryan, dead? It couldn't be. I must be dreaming. But the detectives' serious faces told me this was all too real.
"What evidence?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do anything to Ryan. We were friends, colleagues. I would never hurt him."
The detective sighed. "We'll discuss that at the station, Mr. Gabriel. Please come with us."
I was in shock, unable to move or speak. The detectives had to guide me out of the office, and I couldn't even look back to see the faces of my colleagues. I was in a daze, unable to process what was happening.
As we walked to the police car, I couldn't help but think about Ryan and our last conversation. We had talked about our plans for the future, our dreams and aspirations. He was happy, and I was happy for him. And now, he was gone. Murdered. And I was a suspect.
As I arrived at the police station with the officers, I was led to a small, windowless room deep within the building. The room was dimly lit, with only a single flickering fluorescent light overhead, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of the officers' gaze upon me. I was seated in a cold, metal chair, and the officers began to circle around me, their eyes fixed intently on me.
"So, Mr. Gabriel," one of the detectives started, his voice firm and accusatory. "We've received a report that Ryan's drink was poisoned. And we have evidence that suggests you were the last person to see him alive."
I shook my head, trying to process the information. "That's impossible," I said, my voice shaking. "I didn't do anything to Ryan. We were friends, colleagues. I would never hurt him."
The detective raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because we found a shoe print that belongs to you near the scene of the crime. And your fingerprints are all over the glass cup Ryan had been drinking from."
I was stunned. "How is that possible?" I demanded. "I don't remember touching the cup. And I certainly didn't poison Ryan's drink."
The detective leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb, Mr. Gabriel. We know you had motive. You were promoted to a position that Ryan had been eyeing for months. And we have witnesses who say you two had a heated argument just days before his death."
I felt like I was being punched in the gut. "That's not true," I protested. "Ryan and I were friends. We had disagreements, but we always worked them out. And I would never hurt him, no matter what."
The detective sighed. "Look, Mr. Gabriel. We're not saying you're definitely guilty. But we do need to investigate further. And we need your cooperation."
I nodded, feeling a sense of desperation wash over me. "I'll cooperate," I said. "But please, you have to believe me. I didn't do this."
The detective's expression was unreadable. "We'll see about that, Mr. Gabriel. We'll see about that."
As the questioning continued, I couldn't help but think about Ryan and our last conversation. We had talked about our plans for the future, our dreams and aspirations. He was happy, and I was happy for him. And now, he was gone. Murdered. And I was a suspect.
I felt a wave of emotions wash over me - grief, anger, confusion. I didn't know what was happening, or why I was being accused of such a heinous crime. All I knew was that I had to clear my name, and find out who really killed Ryan.
"Can I ask something?" I said, looking up at the detective.
"Go ahead," he replied.
"Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Ryan?"
The detective hesitated before speaking. "We're still investigating, but we do have a few leads. It seems that Ryan had been making some enemies lately, people who were jealous of his success, which includes you."
I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities. "I see," I said. "And what about the poison? Have you found out what kind it was?"
He looks like he doesn't want to answer that, but after looking like one who just processed the question, the detective decided to play along.
The detective leaned in closer. "We're still running tests, but it looks like it was a rare and highly toxic substance. Something that would be difficult to obtain."
I felt a chill run down my spine. This was getting more and more sinister by the minute.