Chapter 4
The Loyal Friend
Chloe Vance, Sarah's close friend, shares her grief. She speaks of Sarah's recent anxieties but hesitates, perhaps guarding a secret or protecting someone. Jamonte notes her unease.
The loft was a cathedral of silence, the kind that pressed in on you, heavy with the unspoken. Chloe Vance sat on the edge of the worn velvet sofa, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. Her eyes, usually bright and full of a restless energy I’d seen in so many artists, were red-rimmed and dull, like polished stones that had lost their luster. Sarah Jenkins’ apartment, a vibrant testament to her life, felt like a stage set for a tragedy, and Chloe was the sole, grieving audience member.
“She was… she was so full of life, Detective,” Chloe whispered, her voice raspy, as if she hadn’t used it in days. “Always painting, always creating. Even when things were tough, she found beauty.”
I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the canvases leaning against the walls, the half-finished sculptures on pedestals, the pots of brushes scattered across a workbench. Sarah’s passion was palpable, a ghost that clung to the air like the faint scent of turpentine. “When did you last see her, Ms. Vance?”
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