The police station smelled like burnt coffee and old paper.
They separated us immediately.
"Standard procedure," one of the officers said, though his tone suggested nothing about tonight was standard.
Lily went first.
Lily
She sat with her hands folded in her lap, fingers trembling despite her effort to keep still. A female officer sat across from her, voice soft, almost maternal.
"Tell me what you remember," the officer said.
Lily swallowed. "Jack went to the bathroom near the end of the movie. He said he wasn't feeling well."
"Did he seem scared?"
"No. Just… tired."
"Did he say where he was going after?"
"Home," Lily said. "I think."
The officer glanced at her notes. "You think?"
Lily hesitated. "Nick said Jack texted him. Said his stomach hurt."
"Did Jack tell you that?"
"No."
"Did Jack mention Max at all that night?"
Lily's jaw tightened. "Jack didn't like Max. But he never said anything bad. He just… avoided him."
"Did Max ever threaten Jack?"
Lily shook her head quickly. "No. Max was jealous, but Jack didn't do anything to provoke him."
She paused.
"Jack isn't violent," she added. "He wouldn't hurt someone unless he had no other choice."
The officer wrote that down.
Jas
Jas sat straighter. Defensive. Angry.
"You're saying Jack left the theater alone?" the detective asked.
"Yes," Jas said. "But that's not the problem."
"Then what is?"
"He left his phone and keys behind," she snapped. "People don't do that if they're just going home."
"Did you see him drop them?"
"No."
"Could someone else have dropped them?"
Jas frowned. "I guess. But Max was there."
"Did you see Max grab Jack?"
"No. But he showed up afterward and said Jack should be 'enjoying himself.'"
The detective raised an eyebrow. "Exact words?"
Jas exhaled sharply. "Something like that."
"Something like that," the detective repeated, writing.
Jas leaned forward. "Look—Max hated Jack. Everyone knew that. He had a motive."
"Did Jack ever express fear of Max?"
Jas hesitated. "Not fear. Just… awareness."
"Awareness of what?"
"That Max was unstable."
Nick
Nick's leg bounced nonstop.
"You received a text from Jack," the detective said. "What time?"
Nick checked his phone. "8:42 p.m."
"What did it say?"
Nick recited it exactly.
Not feeling good. If I'm not back in 20, take the girls home.
"Why didn't you show that to Lily?"
Nick swallowed. "I didn't want to worry her."
"Did Jack type like that normally?"
Nick frowned. "Yeah. I think."
"You think?"
Nick looked down. "Jack doesn't text much."
"Did Jack seem injured before the movie?"
Nick hesitated. "No. I mean—he did go to the bathroom at In-N-Out for a while."
"How long is 'a while'?"
Nick shrugged. "Ten minutes? Maybe more."
"Did you see anyone follow him?"
Nick paused.
"…No."
Jack
Jack woke up in a hospital bed.
His face throbbed. His ribs screamed every time he breathed. An officer waited quietly until Jack opened his eyes.
"Can you talk?" the officer asked.
Jack nodded slowly.
"Tell me what happened."
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, as if searching.
"I went to the bathroom," he said hoarsely. "I remember getting grabbed. Then… lights. Noise."
"Do you remember Max?"
Jack frowned. "Max?"
"Yes."
"I… don't remember seeing him," Jack said after a pause. "I remember voices. Not faces."
"Did you bring a weapon?"
Jack's eyes widened. "No. Why would I?"
"The gun was found in Max's hand."
Jack turned his head away. "I didn't have a gun."
"Do you own one?"
"No."
"Did Nick give you anything in the car?"
Jack thought carefully. "No."
The officer glanced at his notes. "Nick says he handed you something."
Jack looked genuinely confused. "I don't remember that."
Silence stretched.
"Jack," the officer said slowly, "do you know why Max is dead?"
Jack's voice broke. "I wish I did."
Later that night, the detectives compared notes.
Four statements.
Four perspectives.
Four versions of the same night.
And none of them fit together cleanly.
One thing was clear, though.
Someone was lying.
And whoever it was had planned it carefully.