The night stretched longer than it should have.
People came and went around us — officers, paramedics, and investigators carrying flashlights and cameras. Every now and then, someone asked another question, wrote another note, spoke in hushed voices that carried just enough for us to hear fragments.
Brake line.
Angle of impact.
Time of departure.
The words didn't feel real yet.
Lucian and I sat on opposite sides of the road now.
Not because anyone told us to.
We just… ended up there.
I watched him from where I was sitting on the back step of an ambulance. He was leaning against the open door of a police vehicle, arms folded again, staring out into the darkness beyond the headlights.
He hadn't looked at me in a while.
A tall man in a dark coat eventually arrived — someone who wasn't part of the emergency team. His presence changed the mood instantly. The officers straightened a little when they spoke to him.
Authority.
Important enough to matter.
He spoke quietly with a group of investigators near the guardrail for several minutes. I saw them gesture down the slope where the wreck had been.
Then one of them pointed briefly toward us.
Toward Lucian.
My stomach tightened.
After a moment, the man in the coat started walking our way.
Not toward me.
Toward Lucian.
Lucian noticed too.
He pushed himself off the car and stood up straight as the man approached.
I couldn't hear what they said at first, but the conversation looked calm. The man spoke in a steady tone, hands relaxed at his sides.
Lucian answered briefly.
Then the man said something that made Lucian's posture shift slightly — not defensive, but alert.
Like he was being studied.
I stood up without thinking and moved closer, stopping a few feet away so I could finally hear.
"…just need to understand the sequence of events," the man was saying. His voice was smooth, controlled. "You were under the vehicle earlier, correct?"
Lucian nodded once.
"There was a cat," he said.
"Yes, we were told."
The man glanced briefly toward me, then back at Lucian.
"And while you were under there, did you notice anything unusual?"
Lucian's jaw tightened slightly.
"Not then."
"But later?"
Lucian hesitated.
I saw the moment he decided whether to say it.
"The brake line looked wrong."
The man's eyes sharpened just a little.
"How so?"
"It looked cut."
Silence followed.
A long one.
Then the man nodded slowly, as if filing the information away somewhere deep and organized.
"I see."
Behind him, another officer shifted uncomfortably.
Lucian watched the man carefully.
"You think I did it," he said bluntly.
The man didn't react with surprise.
Instead, he answered calmly.
"I think we're still figuring out what happened."
"That's not what the others think."
The man studied Lucian for a moment longer.
Then his gaze shifted briefly to me again.
"You two are identical twins," he said.
It wasn't a question.
Lucian didn't answer.
The man continued.
"Situations like this are difficult. Especially when people are grieving."
I didn't like the way he said that.
Like grief made people unreliable.
Like it made truth blurry.
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I didn't touch the brakes," he said firmly.
"I didn't say you did."
"But you're thinking it."
The man sighed quietly.
"Right now, we're thinking about every possibility."
Lucian's shoulders stiffened.
I stepped forward before I even realized I was doing it.
"He didn't do anything," I said.
Both of them looked at me.
The man's expression softened just slightly.
"And you are?"
"Adrian."
He nodded.
"You were also present earlier."
"Yes."
"Did you see your brother interact with the vehicle in any other way besides rescuing the animal?"
"No."
My answer came instantly.
Because it was the truth.
The man watched me carefully — not accusing, just… measuring.
Then he nodded once more.
"Thank you."
He turned slightly, speaking to the nearby officer in a low voice.
I caught only a few words.
"Family arrangements… guardianship… temporary placement…"
Something inside my chest tightened again.
Lucian heard it too.
"Placement?" he said.
The man looked back at us.
"You boys won't be staying here tonight," he explained gently. "Someone will be coming to take care of that."
Lucian frowned.
"Who?"
"That's being arranged now."
The answer didn't satisfy either of us.
The man gave us one last look — thoughtful, almost analytical — before walking back toward the investigators near the guardrail.
Lucian watched him go.
Then he said quietly, almost to himself,
"They're already deciding what happened."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
Because deep down…
I felt like he might be right.