The interrogation room at the local police station felt colder than the crisp autumn air outside. Benedict Thorne sat opposite Arthur Hale, his impeccably tailored suit doing little to mask the tremor in his hands. The scent of expensive cologne couldn't quite obliterate the underlying tension, a palpable unease that clung to him like a second skin. The interview, officially titled "Interview with Benedict Thorne," had begun an hour ago, and Hale felt a growing unease of his own.

"Mr. Thorne," Hale began, his voice calm but firm, "we understand you were at your apartment on the night of Miss Montgomery’s disappearance. Can you elaborate on your evening?"

Thorne’s gaze, usually sharp and assessing, was now hesitant, flitting around the sterile room. “Yes, of course. I was… working late. On a new project. I… I don't recall the exact time I arrived home.” His voice was low, laced with a sorrow that felt both genuine and carefully constructed.

Hale leaned forward, his eyes unwavering. "Mr. Thorne, your apartment building has a security system. We've reviewed the footage. While it shows you entering your building around 11 pm, there’s a gap in the footage – approximately twenty minutes – just before you reach your floor." He produced a print-out. “This is where your alibi begins to unravel. Can you account for those missing twenty minutes?”

Thorne’s carefully crafted composure faltered. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. "I… I can't be sure. Perhaps there was a power fluctuation. I don't…" he trailed off, his voice barely a whisper.

"A power fluctuation that conveniently affects only the cameras covering your section of the building?" Hale pressed, his tone sharp. "Mr. Thorne, your public persona is that of a successful, meticulous architect. Yet your recollection of your own movements on the night of Julia’s disappearance is remarkably vague."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The "Shaky alibi" was becoming a chasm between Hale’s growing suspicion and Thorne's carefully constructed facade. Hale continued to press, noticing the slight perspiration beading on Thorne’s forehead. He brought up discrepancies in Thorne’s phone records, the lack of any calls or messages around the time of Julia's disappearance, a stark contrast to his usually active communication patterns. Thorne's explanations were unconvincing, each answer laced with hesitancy, each detail subtly contradictory.

The interview progressed, each question chipping away at Thorne’s carefully constructed exterior. Hale strategically used information gleaned from the Montgomery mansion's security system, subtle details only someone intimately familiar with the house could know. He questioned Thorne’s knowledge of the west wing’s hidden passage, his awareness of the unusual security system vulnerabilities, all subtly leading to the conclusion that Thorne might not be as removed from the events as he claimed.

The "Growing suspicion of Thorne" was becoming a certainty in Hale’s mind. He left the interview with a deepening sense of unease. Thorne, despite his outward display of grief, possessed an unsettling calmness, a detachment that felt suspiciously calculated.

Later that evening, Hale found himself back at the Montgomery mansion. Charles Montgomery, his face etched with worry, paced restlessly in the library. Eleanor Vance sat quietly in a corner, her eyes red and swollen.

"Hale," Charles began, his voice strained, "I… I received a call from Thorne. He asked if I could meet him, said he had something to share about Julia."

Hale's mind raced. A calculated move to deflect suspicion? Or a desperate attempt at redemption? Regardless, Hale knew he needed to be present when this "something" was revealed. He immediately informed Charles that he would be attending the meeting. The confrontation was inevitable, and the "Serpent's Coil," Hale suspected, was about to tighten its grip further. The hunt for Julia Montgomery was far from over; it was just beginning to delve into its darkest depths, a web of deceit and betrayal woven intricately around the Montgomery family. And in the center of it all, stood Benedict Thorne, a man whose grief-stricken facade barely masked a chilling potential for danger. The game was afoot, and the stakes were higher than ever.