The body lay in a pool of blood, a gaping wound on its forehead. Detective Johnson arrived on the scene, his mind already racing with questions. Who could have committed such a heinous crime? The victim's eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, as if searching for answers. Johnson knelt beside the body, examining it closely. There were no signs of struggle, no defensive wounds. The murder had been quick and efficient. The detective stood up, surveying the room. It was a small, cluttered office. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, but nothing seemed out of place. The window was locked from the inside. There was no sign of forced entry. Johnson's eyes fell on a photograph on the desk. It showed the victim smiling with a group of friends. One face stood out. It was someone Johnson recognized. The investigation had just begun, but already he had a suspect in mind.