Liam Ashton was closer than they thought. Lucas could feel the tension in the air as he stepped into the dimly lit alley that led to an unassuming apartment building on the edge of the city. The text from Ava had been simple, urgent: "We found him. Liam Ashton's in town." But finding him was one thing. Getting to the truth was another. They had no idea what they were walking into.
The building seemed quiet, almost deserted, but there was an unsettling stillness in the air that put Lucas on edge. It was as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. His hand hovered near the holster of his gun as he entered the lobby, and Grace fell into step beside him, her eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced caution.
"I don't like this," Grace murmured as they reached the elevator. "He's been off the grid for years. Why now?"
Lucas didn't answer right away. The question gnawed at him too, but it was drowned out by a growing sense of urgency. Every lead they followed seemed to bring them closer to the final piece of the puzzle, but this—this felt different. He could feel the walls closing in.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and Lucas stepped forward, his boots echoing in the empty hall as he approached room 304. The door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light spilling out from inside.
He paused, exchanging a quick look with Grace. Without a word, they pushed the door open.
The apartment was a time capsule. The furniture was sparse, but what stood out was the large canvas draped in a corner, half-covered by a tattered cloth. The walls were bare, save for a few frames with torn edges and old photographs of a man who looked a lot like William Ashton—only younger. A man in his prime, before the fire, before the fall.
Liam Ashton.
Lucas stepped into the room, his eyes scanning everything with surgical precision. The smell of stale paint and mildew filled the air, a testament to years of neglect. But there was something about this place—something that made Lucas' skin crawl. It was as if the entire apartment was a shrine to something long dead, something that had never truly been put to rest.
"He's here," Grace whispered, but her voice faltered.
Lucas nodded grimly. "Look around. Find anything that connects him to the murders."
They began to search the apartment, methodically. Lucas opened drawers, rifled through papers, and checked behind the half-empty bookcases. But it wasn't until Grace called out from the other side of the room that he found what they were looking for.
"Lucas," she said, her voice urgent. "You need to see this."
He crossed the room quickly, his heart racing as he saw what she had found. On the desk, amid scattered papers, was a sketchbook—tattered and worn. But the pages inside were something else entirely.
They were filled with grotesque, violent depictions of the victims—each one drawn in unnervingly lifelike detail, their eyes wide with terror, their bodies twisted in unnatural positions. The last few pages were particularly chilling—sketches of the art gallery and the theater, the places where the murders had taken place.
But there was something else. A drawing of a woman, her mouth sewn shut, her eyes hollow. A figure standing behind her, looming large, his hand reaching toward her throat, as if choking the life from her.
"This is the killer's work," Lucas muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling as he turned the pages. "He's been here, in this room. Watching."
Grace looked at him, her face pale. "Do you think he's been living in the shadows? That he's been waiting for the right moment to make his move?"
"I think he's been here all along," Lucas said quietly, his gaze falling on a new drawing—one that showed a chaotic swirl of shapes, a fragmented face. The spiral symbol was there, in the center, etched deep into the paper. "And this… this is where it all began."
He turned to the other side of the room and noticed a half-filled jar of paintbrushes resting on a cluttered shelf. But it wasn't the brushes that caught his attention. It was the small, delicate frame next to them—an old, cracked mirror. Something about it seemed out of place in this run-down apartment. Lucas approached it slowly, his hand hovering over the surface.
"Why keep a mirror in here?" he muttered. "Is it a symbol?"
He reached out and, with a flick of his fingers, uncovered the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, but it wasn't just his face. He felt an eerie shift in the room, like the mirror was showing him something more.
There, etched into the glass, was the same spiral symbol that had appeared at each crime scene.
A chill ran down his spine.
"The killer's been watching through this mirror," Lucas whispered. "The reflections, the faces, the symbols… It's all connected."
Just then, Grace's voice broke through the tension. "Lucas, there's more."
She held up a faded photograph, the edges curling with age. The image was of Liam and William Ashton together, standing outside an old art gallery. They looked almost identical, except that William's smile was sharp, almost mocking, while Liam's was distant, as if the weight of something heavier hung on his shoulders.
But the most striking thing about the photo was what they were standing in front of—the very same gallery that had burned down ten years ago.
"This photo… it's from the day before the fire," Grace said quietly. "What if Liam's connection to the fire is deeper than we thought? What if he's not just a victim?"
Lucas felt a knot tighten in his chest. "What if he's been waiting for this moment to avenge his brother's work?"
His mind raced. The pieces were falling into place, but they didn't form the picture he expected. The more he uncovered about Liam Ashton, the more he realized that the killer wasn't simply avenging the destruction of art. He was using art to recreate the past, and Liam was the key to unlocking it.
The reflection in the mirror seemed to grow larger, more distorted, as if the killer was right behind them, watching them through the glass. But it wasn't just Liam Ashton's past that was at play here—it was everyone's.
The door to the apartment creaked open.
"Detective Morgan, we need to go. They've found him."
Lucas turned to see Ava standing in the doorway, her face grim. The urgency in her voice matched the tension in the air. They had found Liam Ashton.
But would they be able to stop him before he completed his masterpiece?