The next morning, the town of Cypress Hollow was stirring with whispers of Dr. Elias March's death. News traveled fast in the small, fog-drenched town, and by the time Clara Reynolds arrived at the station, reporters were already camped outside, their voices muffled by the early mist.
"Detective Reynolds!" a voice called out as Clara stepped from her car. A young woman with a notepad darted toward her, tape recorder in hand. Any leads on Dr. March's murder? Was it a robbery?"
Clara ignored the question, her gaze fixed on the station doors. She'd been in this game long enough to know better than to give the press anything to twist.
Inside, Nate Cruz was waiting with two steaming cups of coffee. "Rough crowd out there," he said, handing her one.
"They'll be worse by noon," Clara replied, setting her things down at her desk. "What do you have for me?"
Cruz pulled a folder from under his arm. The team at the observatory—March's inner circle. Five members, all local. I've started running background checks, but one name stands out: Mira Sloan. She was March's assistant, and they were seen arguing pretty heatedly at the town council meeting last week.
Clara flipped through the file, stopping at a photograph of Mira Sloan. A young woman in her late twenties, with sharp features and an intense gaze. "What were they arguing about?"
"Funding. March wanted more time to study the marshland ecosystem, but Sloan accused him of stalling. She claimed he was deliberately holding up progress on Green Tech's development plans.
Clara leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming against the desk. Green Tech was a name she'd heard before—one of the larger players in the fight to develop the marshlands. They claimed their plans were environmentally sound, but plenty of locals, March included, didn't buy it.
"Where is she now?" Clara asked.
At home, supposedly. I've got her address.
"Good. Let's pay her a visit."
---
Mira Sloan lived in a modest house on the edge of town, not far from the marshes. The fog hung low over the water as Clara and Cruz knocked on her door. A moment later, it swung open, and Mira stood before them, her face pale and drawn.
"Detectives," she said, her voice flat. "I was expecting you."
Mira stepped aside, motioning them in. Her living room was neat but sparse, the kind of place that felt more like a temporary stop than a home. She sat on the edge of a worn couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Tell us about your relationship with Dr. March, Clara said, her tone calm but firm.
Mira looked away, her jaw tightening. He was my boss. A brilliant man, but... difficult. He didn't always listen to reason.
"Reason?" Cruz asked.
Mira hesitated, then sighed. The marshland project. Elias was passionate about preserving the ecosystem, but he couldn't see the bigger picture. Development is inevitable. Green Tech offered a compromise—a chance to work with them to ensure the project was done responsibly—but he refused to consider it.
Clara studied her carefully. "And that led to arguments?"
"Yes," Mira admitted. But that's all they were—arguments. I didn't kill him, Detective.
"Where were you last night?" Cruz asked, his notebook ready.
"At home. Alone, Mira said, her voice defensive. "I know how that sounds, but it's the truth."
Clara leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. Did Dr. mention receiving threats? Or seem concerned about his safety?
Mira hesitated, her fingers twisting together. There were emails. Messages from someone using an alias. They accused him of sabotaging the town's future, calling him a liar and a fraud. But Elias never took them seriously. He thought it was just some disgruntled local blowing off steam.
"Do you have copies of those emails?" Clara asked.
Mira shook her head. They were sent to his work account. You'll need to access the observatory's servers.
Clara exchanged a glance with Cruz. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
As they left Mira's house, Clara's mind churned. The woman had been nervous, but was it guilt—or fear? Either way, she wasn't telling them everything.
---
Their next stop was the marshlands, a sprawling expanse of wetlands on the outskirts of Cypress Hollow. The morning sun had begun to burn away the fog, revealing a landscape of winding waterways and dense reeds.
"This is what March was trying to protect," Cruz said as they stood on a weathered dock, looking out at the water.
Clara nodded. "And what Green Tech is trying to exploit."
She pulled a pair of binoculars from her coat pocket and scanned the area. In the distance, a small motorboat was moored to a decaying pier. A man in a heavy jacket was unloading crates, his movements brisk and deliberate.
"Who's that?" Cruz asked, following her gaze.
"Let's find out," Clara said, already heading toward the boat.
The man looked up as they approached, his expression wary. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"Detective Reynolds, Cypress Hollow PD," Clara said, flashing her badge. "What are you doing out here?"
"Just delivering supplies," the man said, nodding toward the crates. "Work for Green Tech."
Clara's eyes narrowed. "Supplies for what?"
"Survey equipment," he replied, his tone evasive.
"For a project that hasn't been approved yet?"
The man shrugged, his gaze shifting away. "Just following orders."
Clara stepped closer, her voice low. Do you know Dr. Elias March?"
The man stiffened but didn't answer.
Cruz took a step forward. "If you're withholding information about an ongoing investigation, I suggest you rethink your position."
The man hesitated, then sighed. Look, all I know is March was causing problems for Green Tech. Big problems. They weren't happy about it. That's all I'm saying.
Clara stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "We'll be in touch."
As they walked back to the car, Clara's jaw tightened. The threads were starting to come together, but the picture was still incomplete.
"Green Tech's involved," Cruz said, breaking the silence.
"Maybe," Clara replied. Or someone wants us to think they are. Either way, we need to dig deeper.
She glanced back at the marshlands, her gut telling her that the answers they sought were buried there, hidden among the reeds and the shadows.
And she intended to find them.