Eleanor stepped inside the police station, the sudden shift from the chill outside to the dry, pure air inside making her feel a little too exposed. It was quieter than she expected, and she paused for a moment, letting the light fluorescent lights settle in before she moved further.
Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag, a nervous habit she couldn't shake, even though there was nothing to be nervous about. Well, nothing except the fact that she was about to step inside a building where everyone either looked at her like she was a child playing detective or a potential nuisance they'd rather avoid.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting, maybe a crowd of officers swarming around, maybe someone with a stack of files ready to drop the bombshell she had been waiting for. Instead, it was eerily calm. The only sound was the shuffle of papers in the back room, the low murmur of distant conversations, and the occasional tap of keys from officers typing reports.
As she passed the front desk, she caught a glimpse of Officer Alistair Graves, sitting behind the counter, scribbling on a notepad. He glanced up, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. She wasn't sure if it was a greeting or some twisted reminder of all the times he had brushed her off.
"Morning, Graves," she said dryly, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "Surprised to see you're not out chasing criminals."
Alistair's grin widened slightly, "Someone's got to keep the paperwork moving, right?"
Eleanor barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The guy acted like they were on the same team, but in reality, he was just another part of the system, one that wasn't giving her the answers she wanted. But she didn't have time to deal with him right now.
She made her way down the hallway, following the signs that led to the interrogation rooms. It was there she expected to find him. James.
The man she had been chasing for months. The one who had led her on this twisted trail of secrets, lies, and violence. He was still only arrested for Tracy's case and an attempted murder, but that didn't mean she wasn't sure about the others. No one had put the puzzle pieces together yet, but she had. The files. The games. The victims. All found because of her.
Days before James's arrest, Eleanor had discovered numerous files and diary entries of the past owner of her house. James was said to have been organizing 'games' with children with his twisted idea of "only the strongest survive".
She wasn't about to let them slip through her fingers now.
But as she rounded the corner, she froze.
There, standing in the hallway just outside one of the interrogation rooms, was Silas Crowe. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his usual unnervingly calm expression in place. He hadn't noticed her yet.
"Silas," she called, her voice echoing down the corridor.
He straightened up, pushing away from the wall, and turned to face her. His dark silver eyes met hers with a flicker of recognition, but his gaze was tense. He wasn't looking at her like he usually did, like they were old friends sharing a casual conversation. No, this time, he was all business. The kind of business that made her heart race with anxiety.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep the edge of impatience out of her voice.
"Waiting," he said simply. "Waiting for you, actually."
She raised an eyebrow. "For me? That's... creepy."
"I know. But I figured you might want to know what's going on with James," he said, nodding toward the room behind him, where the faint sound of murmured voices drifted through the walls.
"Yeah? What's going on with him?" Eleanor shot back; her arms crossed defensively. "I already know they arrested him for Tracy. Doesn't mean he's not guilty for the others."
Silas's jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, Eleanor thought she saw a hint of frustration in his eyes. "It's not that simple, Eleanor. There's not enough evidence to charge him with anything else. You know that."
She scoffed. "I don't care about their lack of evidence. I've got plenty of my own."
"You're chasing shadows," Silas said, his voice low, like he was trying to get through to her without raising his voice. "And I'm telling you, you need to stop."
"I'm not stopping," Eleanor snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I'm close. You know it. I've seen the files. I've connected the dots. James isn't some innocent guy who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's been playing a game with people's lives, and I'm the only one who's even trying to put an end to it."
Silas's gaze softened for a split second, but it was quickly replaced with that familiar, hard expression. "Look, I get it. You want justice. You want to make sure the truth comes out. But you're doing it all wrong. You can't just throw yourself into this without thinking it through."
Eleanor stepped closer, feeling the tension in her chest tighten. "I've thought this through. I literally was the reason for his arrest. You think I'm stupid?"
"No," Silas said sharply. "I think you're stubborn. And that's going to get you killed."
"Great," Eleanor muttered, backing off, her voice full of sarcasm. "Now I'm going to die for seeking justice. What's next? You going to tell me I should just go home and let you and the cops handle it?"
"Maybe you should," Silas said, his tone flat. "Maybe you should take a step back. This isn't just about Tracy anymore. It's about you, too. James is dangerous, and you're making it worse by pushing for something you don't fully understand."
Eleanor was ready to argue again, but something in his voice stopped her. It wasn't the usual detached tone he used when they talked. This time, he meant it. He was scared for her.
But she wasn't going to back down.
"I'm going in," she said, turning toward the door to the interrogation room, her voice steady.
Before she could reach for the handle, Silas stepped in her path, blocking her way. "Don't, Eleanor."
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, then shook her head. "You don't get it. I'm already in it."
Silas brushed past her; his eyes locked on the blinking lights signaling the interrogation room was now occupied, he smiled.
"Now you can't get in"
Great... now I must wait for them to finish...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Eleanor paced outside the interrogation room, frustration simmering beneath her skin. She'd been waiting for a chance like this, for a chance to finally confront James Grace. The man who had haunted her thoughts, her investigations, for what felt like forever. She was this close to getting answers. She could almost taste it. The lights above the interrogation room flickered, indicating the room was now vacant. But before she could make another move, a hand landed heavily on her shoulder, spinning her around.
"What the hell?" she snapped, jerking away from the grip.
Silas stood there, his face a mask of calm that did nothing to hide the underlying frustration in his eyes. "You're not going in there."
She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, really? What makes you think you can stop me?"
"I don't need to stop you, Eleanor," Silas said, his voice low but firm. "You're not doing this. You're not talking to James."
Her blood began to boil, and she took a step closer once again, glaring up at him. "This is my investigation, Silas. You think I'm just going to stand here and wait for someone else to do it? I've spent weeks -months- getting close to the truth, and you're telling me to wait?"
"You're not ready for this," he said, his words sharp like a warning. "You don't have the evidence, you don't have the right to go in there and try to crack him open like he's some kind of puzzle."
Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she could say another word.
"You think you've got everything figured out? You think you can take on him?" His eyes narrowed, a quiet intensity in his gaze. "You can't do this alone. You won't walk out of there the same way you walked in."
Eleanor's heart pounded in her chest. She'd been pushing for this moment for so long. She wasn't about to let Silas, or anyone else, keep her from confronting James.
"I don't need your help," she snapped, trying to shove past him, but Silas's hand shot out, blocking her way.
"Stop acting like this is just another case. This is dangerous, Eleanor. You're too close to the edge. I'm not going to let you make it worse."
"By doing what? By actually getting answers?" Her voice was a mixture of anger and desperation. "I'm not walking away from this, Silas. I'm not going to sit here while everyone else plays it safe. This....this is my fight."
His expression eased for a moment, but only just. "I get it, okay? But you need to think about this. You're not invincible. This isn't some game where you can just walk in and get answers with a few sharp questions. You're dealing with someone who doesn't play by the rules."
"And neither do I," Eleanor muttered under her breath.
Silas was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge how far he could push her. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit she noticed him doing more often.
"I know you're pissed off. I get it. But you're not going in there. Not today. Not like this."
Eleanor's chest tightened, a wave of frustration and helplessness crashing over her. But as much as she wanted to scream, to fight him, she knew he wasn't going to budge.
"Fine," she muttered, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You win. For now."
Silas sighed in relief, but it quickly faded when he noticed her determined expression.
"This isn't over..." she shot back, her voice a low, deadly promise. "You think I'm going to give up? No- Never. This is just getting started. And I'm not done with James Grace. I am not leaving anything to the police.... I did well enough on my own"
Silas didn't respond, his lips pressed into a thin line. He turned on his heel and started walking toward the exit, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.
Eleanor stayed where she was for a while, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw clenched. She wasn't going to let this slide.
Eleanor watched Silas's retreating back as he led her toward the exit. Her mind was racing, refusing to quiet down. How could he do this? How could he just pull her away at the exact moment when she was about to confront James, the man who had caused all this chaos? The man who needed to pay for what he had done. The man she had been tracking for months, following his every twisted disgusting move.
Her fists tightened at her sides, and she fought the urge to punch the nearest wall.
She didn't say anything more to Silas. She didn't trust herself to speak without saying something she'd regret. So, they walked in silence, through the halls of the police station, past tired officers who barely spared them a glance, until they reached the exit.
Outside, the cool air hit her face. The weight of everything she had learned so far pressed on her, suffocating her. She wanted to tear it all apart. She wanted to scream, to lash out at someone.
But there was no one to scream at, no one who could fix this mess except for her. Her whole investigation she'd done well on her own. And now with the police aware of her work, they expected her to drop it and leave it to them....
When they reached Silas's car, she paused, looking back at the police station's looming silhouette in the distance. Her fingers twitched, aching with the need to continue the investigation, to keep searching, to expose James for what he was. But that was easier said than done, especially now that Silas had forced her to take a step back.
"You can't just keep doing this, you know," Silas's voice broke through her thoughts. "You can't keep playing this game like it's a puzzle you can solve on your own."
Eleanor didn't turn to look at him. "It's not a game. People have died. People are still going to die unless I stop him."
Silas was quiet for a moment. He didn't respond immediately, and Eleanor could feel the tension thickening in the air between them. She could almost hear the words he was holding back. The same words he'd been holding back for months, ever since she'd started investigating.
She couldn't let it go. She wouldn't.
"I'm not going to sit back and wait while you try to fix this on your own," Silas finally said, his voice low but firm. "I'm here to help, but you have to start trusting me. We can't do this alone. Not if we're going to find out everything we need to know about James."
"Trust you?" Eleanor let out a bitter laugh. "You've got a funny way of showing it. If you really wanted to help, you wouldn't be pulling me out of the room every time I get close."
"You're too close, Eleanor," Silas said, his voice urgent now. "You're so close that I'm afraid you'll burn yourself out before we can put a stop to this. You're making yourself a target."
Eleanor swallowed the lump in her throat,
"I can handle it," she muttered, walking toward the passenger side of the car. She didn't care if she sounded defiant. She didn't care if Silas didn't like it. "I'm not going to let it go, Silas. Not now. Not after everything I've seen."
He didn't answer right away, and for a moment, Eleanor wondered if he was going to give up on her entirely. But then she heard the car door open, and she slid inside without waiting for his permission.
As Silas started the engine, Eleanor stared out the window, watching the city go by in a blur of lights and shadowed streets. Every passing second felt like another moment wasted, another minute closer to James slipping through their fingers. She could feel the tension in her muscles, her heart pounding with impatience.
"Where are we going?" she asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.
Silas shot her a glance, his expression unreadable. "To get answers. We're not done. I've got something for you."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll see soon enough." Silas's voice was calm, almost detached, but Eleanor could sense something in it. A quiet urgency.
They drove in silence for a while longer, but Eleanor's mind was anything but quiet. She was already thinking ahead, trying to piece together her next move. James might be locked up for Tracy's case, but there was still so much she didn't know. So much that no one seemed willing to talk about.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel broke her thoughts as Silas pulled off the main road and onto a smaller, more secluded street. The buildings here were older, worn down, with dim streetlights that flickered occasionally.
Eleanor's eyes narrowed, attempting to hide her nerves. "What are we doing here?"
Silas didn't answer right away. He parked the car in front of an old building. The air felt heavier now, the silence pressing in on her.
He turned off the engine and finally met her gaze. "This is where we start getting the answers you're looking for. And this time, you're not doing it alone."
Eleanor didn't move. Her fingers gripped the seat, her mind racing. "What is this place?"
Silas smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You'll find out soon enough. Police officers aren't as stupid as you may think" he said, a hint of pride in his voice.