Hapet's office was as suffocating as the man himself. The air smelled of cigars and old varnish, and Hapet lounged behind his desk like a ruler granting audience to lesser beings. His grin widened as I stepped inside, Valter following a step behind.
"Detective Law," Hapet said, leaning back in his chair. "And her assistant."
Valter was uncomfortable, but I pressed on, locking eyes with Hapet. "You called us," I said flatly.
"Indeed," Hapet replied, sliding a folder across the desk. "The Aster family. Harold Aster, the patriarch, was stabbed to death in his mansion last night. Seventeen suspects. No witnesses."
I opened the folder and read it. Old money, a large property, and a single stab wound to the heart. The locked-room setup promised complexity, but the actual issue was the individuals involved.
"You'll be working with Riddick and Vinter. Try not to embarrass the Bureau."
I snapped the folder shut. "We'll see."
As I turned to leave, Hapet's laugh followed me.
Elaine Riddick was waiting in the Bureau hallway, her arms crossed and eyes scanning me like a weapon. Percy Vinter stood beside her.
"You must be Law," Elaine said.
"That's me," I replied evenly.
Elaine didn't flinch. "I hope you can keep up."
I smirked. "That's usually not the problem."
Percy stepped forward, his enthusiasm cutting through the tension. "Percy Vinter! It's great to meet you both. This case is... wow. Seventeen suspects? Incredible, right?"
Elaine rolled her eyes, but I nodded, smiling at him. "It's going to be interesting."
The Aster mansion appeared ahead, a large estate surrounded by beautiful grounds that appeared frozen in time. Inside, the air was heavy with old wealth—polished wood, subtle cigar smoke, and the lingering aroma of rotting privilege.
The Aster family gathered in the drawing room. My eyes went through them, memorizing details.
Margaret Aster, the matriarch, sat in an elegant armchair, like a queen on a collapsing throne. Victor and Edwin, Harold's middle-aged sons, stood beside the fireplace. Victor was tall and rigid, his posture military-perfect, whereas Edwin was smaller and nervous, his hands always trembling. Clara, Harold's youngest daughter, sat near the window, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on the grey sky. William, the eldest son, stood away from the others, his arms crossed and his eyes filled with disdain.
Eloise, Harold's niece, leaned to her husband Reynard, her whispery voice barely audible as she reassured him. Meanwhile, Reynard appeared absolutely bored. The twins, Susanna and Charlotte, Harold's granddaughters, sat together on a couch, their features unreadable. Thomas, a distant cousin, stood near the door, his gaze darting nervously across the room. Paul, the butler, and Marie, the housekeeper, stood on the outside of the gathering, their postures courteous but nervous.
Elaine's voice interrupted the silence. "Vinter, you are with me. "We will investigate the crime scene."
"Valter and I will stay here," I stated, my eyes analyzing the room.
Elaine gave a brief nod and left with Percy.
I started with Margaret. She sat in her armchair, her lace gloves immaculate but shaking slightly as she twisted them in her fingers.
"Mrs. Aster," I began gently, "I am Detective Law. May I ask you some questions?"
She sniffed. "I've already spoken to the police."
"And now you're speaking to me."
Margaret's eyes widened. "What is there to say? Harold is dead. It is a tragedy."
"Had Harold said anything weird recently? Was there anything that disturbed him?
Her fingers tightened around the gloves. "No."
Her response was rapid but it looked fake, a lie perhaps. My eyes shifted to the rest of the room. "Your family is difficult. Are you certain there was no tension?"
Margaret's lips thinned, but she did not say anything.
Victor and Edwin were next. Victor stood like a statue, as Edwin trembled alongside him.
"You were in your bedroom last night," I said. "Did you hear anything unusual?"
"No," Victor replied gently.
"What were you working on?"
"The estate," Edwin said. "Harold was furious about the will—"
"Edwin," Victor snapped.
Edwin went silent, his eyes falling to the floor.
The twins, Susanna and Charlotte, spoke quietly and in unison. "We were in the library," Susanna explained.
"Reading," Charlotte said.
"Did you see or hear anyone?" I asked.
Susanna shakes her head. "No. "We were alone."
Charlotte's lips twitched, and her eyes flickered to the window. "Mostly."
Thomas, the nervous cousin, came next. He barely met my gaze, his hands shaking.
"I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed.
I stared at him "I didn't say you did."
Thomas stuttered. "I—I mean, I was inside my room. Alone. I heard nothing. I swear."
While the family argued, I went throughout the estate, mentally memorizing its arrangement. Something felt off as if the walls were hiding something.
In the library, a tiny breeze touched my cheek. I squatted by the bookcases and traced the borders until my fingers discovered a concealed lock. The shelf creaked open to disclose a tiny corridor.
"Valter," I said softly.
He appeared at the doorway, his eyes wild. "Is that...?"
"A secret passage," I explained.
The hallway was cold and wet, with stone-lined walls. In the end, I discovered a diary and a bundle of letters. The ledger recorded financial transactions money taken from family accounts. The letters alluded to blackmail.
"This changes everything."
In the dinning room, I stood in front the family, holding the ledger.
"Harold's death wasn't just about the will," I told him. "It was about lies, secrets and deceit/ Someone took away funds. And Harold found out."
The room was now in chatter and scream.
"That's absurd!" Victor snapped.
"How dare you?" Margaret screamed.
Elaine entered with her eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"
"Mrs.Law thinks she's cracked the case," Margaret mocked. "With no evidence."
I held up the ledger. "This is evidence. Harold found that someone was taking from their family. And that someone murdered him to keep it secret."
My attention focused on Clara, who was shaking.
"You knew. Didn't you?
"I—I didn't—"
"You killed him to protect yourself," I explained. "Or maybe to protect someone else."
Tears ran down her face. "I did not mean to! "He was about to destroy everything!"
Elaine crossed her arms. "You're sure about this?"
"Positive," I responded.
We stepped out of the Aster mansion into the cool night air. Valter walked behind me in quiet for a minute, his hands deep in his pockets. I looked at him, waiting for the inevitable question.
"Did you know it was Clara from the beginning?" he finally questioned
"Maybe," I confessed. "But she gave herself away."
"How?"
I lowered my speed while contemplating. "Her concern was not of pain or remorse, but of losing control. Every time I mentioned Harold, her reactions did not match her words. She wasn't mourning him; she was worried about what his death might reveal."
Valter furrowed his lips as he considered this. "What if she hadn't had a breakdown? What if she had kept lying?"
"She wouldn't have," I answered simply.
He glanced at me skeptically. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because guilt isn't silent," I explained. "It detects cracks in even the strongest walls. All I had to do was press in the correct locations."
Valter was silent again, his eyes locked on the cobblestone walkway beneath us. After a pause, he stated, "You're... different when you're working."
"Different how?"
"Smarter. Like you're not truly yourself." He stopped, looking for the words. "It's like you're watching everything from a distance, waiting for people to mess up."
I smiled. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He shakes his head. "No. It is... impressive, I suppose. But it's also kind of scary."
"Scary?"
"Yeah." He hesitated and added, "You see things that no one else does. Even me. I wonder what you see when you look at me."
I stopped walking and turned to face him. "I see someone who's been hurt. But also someone who keeps going nonetheless. That is not something to be ashamed of."
Valter's face softened, but he quickly looked away, his cheeks flushed. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," I said. "But it's worth it."
We walked in silence for another moment before he spoke again. "Do you think... if things had been different, Clara wouldn't have done it?"
"Maybe. But, Valter, we don't live in a world of what-ifs. People make choices, and those decisions define them."
He nodded slowly, and his steps became more cautious. "I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out, what kind of choices I want to make."
"You'll figure it out," I replied. "And when you do, you'll be stronger for it."
Before he could reply, Elaine arrived next to us, finishing filling the report.
"You're better than I thought," she replied, falling into step with us. Her tone was hesitant, but there was no mistaking the sense of respect.
I looked at her. "That's high praise coming from you."
"Don't let it go to your head," she said coldly. "But you managed the family admirably. Clara was not easy to break."
I gave a slight nod. "Thanks."
Elaine's eyes went to Valter. "And you, are you always this quiet?"
Valter blinked, surprised by the unexpected attention. "Uh, no. I mean, occasionally. I just—"
"She's teasing," I murmured, interrupting him with a small smile.
Elaine smirked. "Only a little."
Valter relaxed slightly, although he still seemed confused about how to reply.
As Elaine walked ahead, I gently tapped him. "You handled yourself well today."
He laughed softly and self-deprecatingly. "I mostly just stood around."
"Standing around can be useful," I told him. "You learn a lot when you listen."
His lips curved into a timid smile. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
We walked on, the night stretched out ahead of us, the sounds of the day fading but not forgotten.
I stood at the apartment door, the weight of the city pressing down like a damp fog. Valter trailed behind me, his silence as loud as his questions. He hadn't pried since we left The Aster's house, but I knew him well enough to read the curiosity simmering just below the surface.
Hapet came to see our results, sneering. Valter didn't trust Hapet—neither did I—but we had no choice. The man was a snake, coiled and watching, waiting for me to make a mistake. Every interaction with him was a reminder of my position. In this borrowed body, this borrowed life, I had to fight for every inch. The world might've dismissed Serena Law, but I refused to let that dismissal define me.
"You're quiet," Valter said, his voice soft.
"Thinking,"
"About the case?"
"Always." That wasn't a lie. My mind continued to recover from the Aster family ruin, with each detail serving as a missing puzzle piece. But something else drew my attention—a strong and insistent intuition. Something hadn't been right since we left this morning. The doorframe had tiny scrapes that would be easy to miss. Someone had been here.
"Stay back," I ordered. Valter was surprised but didn't argue. I pushed the door open, letting it swing wide with deliberate care. The apartment was as I'd left it: cluttered but functional. The air felt different, though. Someone had entered, left their mark, and departed without a trace, save for a single detail.
It caught my eye immediately: a small piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into the corner of the entrance. No one would notice it unless they were looking. I knelt, carefully retrieving it, my breath catching as I unfolded the message. The handwriting was precise, almost clinical.
Detective Law,
Dinner. Tomorrow. 7 PM.
The Red Thorn Bistro.
Adam Elyon.
I stared at the name, the words twisting around my mind like smoke. Adam Elyon, a name that had been created in the darkness, bringing weight and menace. Falsemaw's collaborator, or so he said. He'd approached me before, in an evening's meeting that left me with more questions than answers. He wanted a meeting, and not just any meeting, but a dinner meeting.
"What is it?" Valter asked, coming closer. His curiosity was like a weapon that was eager and rigid.
I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. "There's nothing important. Just another lead to follow."
He was doubting my words. "Are you sure? You don't normally appear this distracted."
"It's fine," I replied. "Let it go, Valter."
His lips opened as if to disagree, but he closed it immediately. He nodded and went to the sofa to read some of the books, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My fingers touched the edge of the paper in my pocket. It was dangerous to keep secrets from him, but this was a game of mysteries. I couldn't afford to expose Valter to the risks associated with Adam Elyon.
The next day came too quickly... The Red Thorn Bistro was a modest establishment with dark lighting and old furnishings that gave it an air of elegance. I arrived early and sat at a corner table with an excellent view of the room. Every customer, every waiter, and every minor movement became part of my calculation. I could not afford to miss anything.
Adam Elyon entered at precisely seven in the evening. He moved with the grace of a predator, taking each step carefully. His lavender hair caught the low light, and his pale pink eyes focused on me with disconcerting intensity. He was young, not much older than I was or Serena had been, yet his presence was weighty, weighed down by something more than age.
"Serena," he said, settling into the seat opposite mine. His smile was like a sun. "You are punctual. I appreciate it.
"You left me with little choice," I said evenly. "You're not exactly discreet."
His laugh was sweet and nearly genuine. 'And yet, here you are. I take that as a compliment."
"Let's skip the pleasantries," I replied, leaning forward. "Why did you call me here?"
Adam angled his head, inspecting me "I find you fascinating."
"Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," I said.
"Oh, but it's not flattery," he said, his voice low and seductive. "You are an abnormality, Detective. An anomaly in a world that doesn't get you. I see it in your eyes: the way you observe and calculate. Aren't you always ten steps ahead?"
"Is there a point to this?" I asked, hiding the anxiety his comments caused. He was not mistaken. My life—both of them—had always been a succession of plays and countermoves, like a chess match against an unseen opponent.
Adam's smile vanished, and a colder one replaced it. "The point, Serena, is that Falsemaw isn't the monster you think he is."
The name struck me like a physical blow, yet I did not flinch. "So what is he? "A misunderstood hero?"
"A force of nature. It's a must in a world dying from the inside out. You seek justice, Detective, but it is a lie. It's a game played by those in power to keep the rest in check."
"And what are you? Falsemaw's dog?"
"I prefer to see myself as his collaborator. We share a vision."
"Which is?"
"A world in which the weak no longer suffer under the guise of law. Where chaos reveals the truth."
I observed him, every word, every change in his posture. He was revealing just enough to keep me interested without giving away his genuine motives. That game can be played by two people.
"You talk a lot about truth," I replied. "But all I see is another coward hiding behind theatrics."
His eyes widened, but his composure remained maintained. "Be careful, detective. Provoking me will not give you the answers you seek."
"I don't need your answers. I'll find the truth on my own."
Adam chuckled, which sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh, I do not doubt it. That's what makes you so interesting. But take care, Serena. The truth tends to consume those who seek it."
He got up from his seat and tossed a couple of bills onto the table. Before leaving, he took one more look at me.
"Until next time, Serena."
And then he vanished, leaving me alone with the weight of his words and the nagging sensation that I'd walked into a trap of my own creation.
The air in the room was oppressive, heavy with the weight of unresolved questions. I leaned back against the desk and allowed my attention drift to Valter. He sat near the window, a book on his lap, but his gaze didn't move over the pages. He had been uncomfortable since I returned, shaking in his seat, lost in his own world of sadness and frustration.
I focused inside, examining the events of the last several days. Adam Elyon's voice, posture, and words kept repeating in my head like a horrible melody I couldn't get rid of. There was something intentional about the way he spoke, as if each syllable was meant to elicit a response. His calm manner was more than just confidence; it was control. I'd seen it before: the kind of control that only comes from knowing you have all the cards.
I assumed he was playing a game, and I was the piece he had selected to move.
But why? That question has bothered me since our meeting. Adam claimed to work with Falsemaw, but his acts seemed strange. If he wanted me dead, he had options. Instead, he had given me a breadcrumb, hanging it just out of reach like bait on a hook. I knew he wasn't lying about his involvement with Falsemaw—but to what extent? That was another matter.
"Serena?" Valter's voice interrupted my thoughts. I blinked and glanced at him, his face worried.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You have been staring at the wall for five minutes. Are you okay?"
"Just thinking."
"About the what, cases?"
"Always."
However, this was not the only scenario. My mind was a thinking, incorporating every element I'd noticed during the previous week. Adam, Stefan, Elaine, and Percy presented their own puzzles. Stefan, in particular, remained in my thoughts. His easygoing charm and calculating approach reminded me of someone performing a part. He'd revealed enough to appear friendly, but not enough to comprehend. That type of individual was dangerous.
I closed my eyes and let my mind sift through the information like a sieve. Stefan's introduction was purposeful, and the timing was too perfect to be coincidental. He'd appeared just as I'd started digging deeper into Falsemaw's track. Was this a coincidence? Or something more sinister? My thoughts focused on his smile, which never quite reached his eyes. His posture was also relaxed, yet there was tension just beneath the surface. He's hiding something.
"Valter," I spoke unexpectedly, and he glanced up from his book. "What do you think of Stefan?"
He blinked in surprise at the question. "He's charming, I suppose. A little too nice, perhaps."
"Do you trust him?"
"I don't know. He seems like the kind of guy who'd smile at you while stabbing you in the back. But he also seems…competent."
Competent, I repeated silently in my head. That was one word for it.
I returned to the desk and pulled a blank sheet of paper toward me. I started making connections, drawing lines between names and events, attempting to piece together the web that was growing around me. Elaine, the seasoned pro; Percy, the excessively friendly new hire; and Stefan, the mysterious wildcard. One of them was about to betray us. The question was, who?
Stefan, my mind whispered. The indications pointed to him: his controlled motions, measured remarks, and the way he appeared to know too much about everyone and everything. But I couldn't rule out the idea of misdirection. A good fraud used red herrings, and Stefan seemed like the ideal diversion.
"You think it's him, don't you?" Valter's voice interrupted my thoughts again. He'd approached, looking over my shoulder at the page.
"Maybe," I confessed. "But I can't act on 'maybe.' I need proof."
"How do you get proof?"
"Observation. Analysis. And a little luck."
The following day, I kept a tight check on Stefan. Every movement and statement he made was documented and analyzed. I observed how he interacted with Elaine and Percy and all the others on the departement, how he spoke to Hapet, and the tiny changes in his posture when he assumed no one was watching. He was too good. However, there were cracks and minor fissures in the façade. A look that lasted for too long. An expression that felt excessively planned.
When we were alone, I decided to face him. "Stefan," I asked casually, "how long have you worked for the Bureau?"
He reclined back in his chair, his demeanor as relaxed as always. "Long enough to know how the game works."
"And what's your opinion of the team?"
He grinned, but there was something cutting about it. "They're a good group. Everybody adds something unique to the table. Including you and Valter."
"Even us?"
"You're new, but you aren't inexperienced. It's pleasant."
I stared at him for a minute, allowing the silence to grow. Most individuals became uneasy in the silence, but Stefan met my stare honestly. It was impressive.
"You're good at reading people," I admitted finally. "But so am I."
"Is that a challenge, Detective?"
I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on his hands, which were resting lightly on the table. His fingertips were relaxed, but his knuckles were white. He wasn't as calm as he had me believe.
I got you.
I was convinced that Stefan was hiding something. It was unclear whether he was a threat or merely a man with his own purpose. Either way, I'd find out. The truth has a way of revealing itself—and I'd be prepared when it did.