Katelyn’s POV

The interrogation room smelled like old coffee and damp paper. I sat in a stiff chair, my back straight, trying to stay calm as the investigator across from me flipped through pages.

They kept me there for hours.

Same questions, worded differently. Over and over. “Did you pay witnesses?” “Why was the live segment scheduled so suddenly?” “Was there financial incentive?”

I answered them all with the same level of patience I used in journalism.

“No, I didn’t pay ...