"Around five months ago. We wanted better weather and I was hoping to break into the art photography scene here."
"Can you provide documentation of your residence in Portland during that time?"
"Yes. I have tax returns, rental agreements, client invoices. I can email them to you."
She makes a note. "That would be helpful. Do you know a man named Gary Hollis?"
"No."
"Have you ever been to Flagston, Arizona?"
"No. I've never been to Arizona at all."
"What about your husband?"
"Not that I'm aware of. We've mostly stayed on the West Coast."
She's watching me carefully, looking for tells. Micro-expressions, any signs of deception.
I meet her eyes steadily, because technically I'm not lying.
Roxy Brennan has never been to Arizona.
Roxy Brennan doesn't know Gary Hollis.
Roxy Brennan is exactly who she says she is.
"You mentioned you're a freelance photographer," Chen says, shifting topics. "What kind of work do you do currently?"
"Various subjects. Landscapes, urban derelict sites, some portrait work."
"How do you make money from that?"
"I sell prints online. Some commission work. I'm building a portfolio for gallery submissions."
"What subjects interest you most?"
I hesitate, knowing this is dangerous territory. But lying would be worse.
"Dark subject matter, mostly. Abandoned places. Crime scenes after the event, not active investigations, just the aftermath. Places where death happened."
Her pen pauses on the notepad. "Crime scenes?"
"Yes. I find them... artistically compelling. The truth of what violence leaves behind."
"How do you find these locations?"
"Police scanners sometimes. News reports. Sometimes I just drive until I find something that speaks to me."
She's watching me more intently now. I can feel the shift in the room, the way her focus has sharpened.
"That's an unusual specialty," she says carefully.
"I suppose it is."
"Do you share this work anywhere? Online forums, social media?"
My pulse kicks up. "Sometimes. Photography communities."
