Johan walked along the pavement, staring at his feet while his hands fidgeted in his pockets, itching for a smoke. Behind him, Martha trailed close, her sobs melting into the honking cars and the murmur of passing strangers.

  She kept gncing back at her house, watching it shrink into the distance, as if by sheer will, she could tether herself to what she once knew. She quickened her pace to match Johan’s, drawing in a shaky breath as a thick cloud drifted over the sun, dimming its light and warmth.

  “Did... my father... confess?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  Johan nodded, his lips pressed tight as he looked at her. The weight of his gaze sent a shudder through Martha. Her knees buckled, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, pooling in her trembling hands. She clenched her fists around them, squeezing her eyes shut. “Is he on the run?” she asked.

  “No, he…” Johan’s voice faltered as he swallowed the words—the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

  “I see…” she exhaled as the world tilted beneath her feet. Her vision blurred, then everything went dark.

  Johan’s breath caught. He lunged forward, his arms snapping out just in time to catch her. His knees smmed into the pavement, denim ripping as he skidded to a stop, supporting her against his chest.

  “Easy there. Stay with me,” he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline pounding in his veins.

  But Martha didn’t respond. She didn’t even blink. Her dull eyes, devoid of their usual sparkle, were fixed on a faraway cloud as if she had lost all sense of where she was or who she was with.

  Johan sighed and guided her to a nearby bench.

  “Take it easy,” he whispered, steadying her as she sat.

  “Thank you,” Martha murmured as her gaze drifted to an alley across the street, where pigeons pecked at scraps spilling from an overturned garbage can. The sight, strange as it was, brought her a sense of comfort as a gentle breeze caressed her skin—a reminder of the world’s indifference and the cost of survival.

  Honk! Honk!

  A dented, clunky car screeched to a halt beside them, its tires leaving a faint burnt rubber stench in the air.

  Johan jerked upright as a head popped out of the window, shouting, “Yo, been a while.”

  Johan narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly. “Nathan?”

  The car door swung open, revealing Nathan in a dark blue suit, sungsses perched atop his brown hair. He strode toward them, a wide grin spreading across his face, but it quickly faded when he glimpsed Martha—her nose red and her eyes swollen and puffy.

  “Everything alright?” Nathan asked, his voice dropping to a hush.

  Johan ran a hand over his face as he exhaled. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Depends.”

  “Take us to my office. It’s in Heavencrest.”

  Nathan gnced at Martha, then back at Johan. “Sure,” he said, his tone softening as he gestured toward his car, wincing when his bruised hand brushed against Johan’s shoulder.

  Meanwhile, in David’s room

  Eric and Evelyn exchanged a look before sealing the jar and pcing it back on the desk.

  They called for backup and headed downstairs.

  The living room was eerily quiet—not even the faintest buzz of a fly. They sat on the sofa, the same one where, just yesterday, they had questioned David about the murder.

  Eric leaned back, staring at the tray ceiling. “What do you think?”

  “If you’re asking whether this is the end, I don’t think so,” Evelyn said as she picked up a pillow, resting it on her p.

  “Well, we still need to confirm the handwriting and the murder we—”

  Evelyn stood abruptly, cutting him off. “No. I still don’t believe he did it.” Her fingers tightened around the pillow. “There must be someone he paid for the job, and that could be the reason he got killed.” She paused. “If, of course.”

  “Where are you going?” Eric asked.

  “To ask the neighbors.” She smirked, tossing the pillow at his face. “Guard the scene.”

  Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Sure.”

  Outside

  Evelyn strolled around the block, scanning the houses until she spotted a jogger approaching a driveway.

  “Excuse me,” she called, raising a hand.

  The jogger stopped, panting as he pulled out his earbuds.

  Evelyn fshed her badge. “Mind if I ask you something?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you see David Walker leave his house?”

  “No, but… my wife might.” He knocked on the door and called out.

  A moment ter, the door creaked open, releasing the warm scent of freshly baked bread and the faint aroma of vender. Shortly after, a woman peeked out, her gaze flicking between her husband and Evelyn.

  “Yes?”

  “She’s a detective. She wants to ask about David. Did you see him leave?”

  The woman’s expression darkened, and she opened the door wider. “Yeah, some guys were fighting—really loud, swearing, cursing, all that. I peeked through the window, same as most of the neighbors. Then, out of nowhere, the fight turned into a chase. A bit ter, while I was chatting with Susan, we saw David leave the house. He had a backpack on him, and he looked… I don’t know, kinda down, I guess.”

  “Was there anyone with him?” Evelyn asked, leaning closer.

  “No.”

  “No one followed after him?”

  “I don’t think so, no.”

  Evelyn dipped her head. “Thanks.”

  She turned back toward David’s house, then stopped short.

  Across the street, Nathan, Martha, and Johan were getting into a car.

  Her brow furrowed. Huh. They knew each other. She watched Nathan trudging, struggling to pick up a fallen piece of paper. Their eyes met briefly, and he waved at her, his lips curled into a smile, while hers tightened into a frown. Before she could dwell on it, the rain began to pour, growing heavier by the second. But what cut their moment short was the wail of police sirens, prompting Evelyn to turn and head back toward the house.

  Hours ter

  Evelyn and Eric walked down a long hallway as they made their way to the morgue. The air felt cold and heavy with the scent of antiseptic and bleach.

  As they neared the steel door, Evelyn reached into her pocket, retrieving a small bck card.

  She swiped it across the reader.

  Beep.

  The red light above flicked to green, a soft click following shortly after.

  The door unlocked with a metallic groan, and as they stepped inside, the scent hit them—even stronger than before—the unmistakable tang of death.

  Both detectives gasped, prompting Evelyn to pull out a small tin of menthol ointment and dab a generous amount beneath her nose, the sharp scent of eucalyptus and mint almost just as overwhelming.

  “Uf.” She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as she passed the tin to Eric.

  “Thank you,” he said, following suit.

  Deeper inside, Sarah stood over a stainless table, a mask covering her face, headphones cmped over her ears, and blood spattered on the floor beneath her feet.

  Around her, bodies y either naked or covered, but each with a tag attached to their toes.

  Sarah picked up a bone saw, pressed a button, and the bde vibrated with a sharp hum as she cracked open a skull—exposing the brain.

  Evelyn’s eyes widened, and she spun on her heels, turning away.

  The sudden movement caught Sarah’s attention. She pulled off her headphones and mask, revealing her weary eyes that narrowed as she met their gazes.

  “I didn’t know you were there,” she said curtly, her voice hollow.

  Evelyn’s lips parted to speak, but only her breath came out as Sarah cut her off. “I believe you are here for David Walker.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sarah turned and headed to an autopsy table with raised edges. The detectives exchanged a gnce, their lips pursed as they followed her.

  But midway, Evelyn stopped, closing her eyes.

  I need a report, not a horror show. I can hear from here just fine.

  Sarah gnced at Evelyn, then back at the table, pulling the cover and revealing David.

  Deep gashes and bruises marred his skin, like a mosaic of torn flesh and bone. His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, and his face—or what was left of it—was a shattered ruin, leaving his skull misshapen. Dried blood crusted over his nose and mouth, which hung slightly open as if he’d tried to scream before hitting the ground.

  Eric cmped a hand over his mouth, darting to the side. There, he noticed Evelyn scrolling through her phone absentmindedly.

  Sarah clicked her tongue and covered the body again. “No defensive wounds. No skin under the fingernails, no bruising on the knuckles, no torn clothing. If he fought back, there’s no evidence of it.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “I’m afraid I can’t help. You’ll have to rely on witnesses or som—”

  “Hey, look at this,” Evelyn jumped in, rushing toward them. She stepped between Sarah and Eric, holding up her phone with her right arm while her left rested on Sarah’s shoulder. “Someone filmed his st moments!”

  But Sarah slid out from beneath her arm. “I’m busy,” she snapped, turning back to the table she was working at.

  “Sorry,” Evelyn murmured, leaning in closer.

  Before she could press py, Eric gently pulled her away. “Let’s watch it elsewhere.”