The midday sun cast long shadows over Beacon Hills, its golden light failing to chase away the lingering darkness left in the wake of the Nogitsune. The town was healing—slowly, cautiously—but for Stiles Stilinski, the wounds ran deeper than anyone could see.
He moved through the school hallway like a ghost, his steps heavy, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Sleep had become a luxury he could no longer afford. Every time he closed his eyes, the memories were there—haunting, suffocating. The things he had done, the people he had hurt, all while trapped inside his own body.
Reaching his locker, he spun the dial mindlessly, barely paying attention as the lock clicked open. His movements were sluggish, mechanical. He pulled out a couple of textbooks and shoved them into his bag before leaning against the cold metal door, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
Scott McCall had been watching him from a distance, concern deepening the crease between his brows. He had seen Stiles in bad shape before, but this—this was different. It was like his best friend was barely holding himself together, just going through the motions.
Scott finally stepped forward, his voice gentle. "Dude… are you okay?"
Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, and forced a weak smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Scott didn't buy it for a second.
"Stiles."
There was something about the way Scott said his name—firm but careful, like he was afraid one wrong word might cause him to shatter.
Stiles let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. "I just… I can't stop thinking about everything. What I did." His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. "I know it wasn't technically me, but it was still my body. I saw it all happen, Scott. I felt it."
Scott's heart clenched. He had spent weeks trying to find the right words to make Stiles understand, to make him see that none of this was his fault. But guilt was a cruel thing, one that didn't let go so easily.
"You weren't in control," Scott said softly. "The Nogitsune was."
Stiles gave a hollow laugh, the sound void of any real amusement. "Doesn't change the fact that people got hurt because of me."
Scott shook his head. "No. People got hurt because of it. You were just—" He stopped himself, sighing. "You're not a monster, Stiles."
Stiles looked away, his throat tight. He wanted to believe that. God, he really did.
Scott placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know."
The bell rang, slicing through the tension like a knife. Stiles exhaled, shaking off the moment as he shut his locker. "Right. Classes. Because that's exactly what I need right now. A nice, normal day of academic torture."
Scott smirked. "Senior year responsibilities, man."
Stiles gave him a look. "Responsible? Us?"
Scott chuckled. "Okay, fair point."
Just as they turned toward their first class, Stiles' phone buzzed. He frowned, pulling it out of his pocket. His dad's name flashed across the screen.
"Hold on," he muttered, answering the call. "Hey, Sheriff."
His father's voice came through, tight with urgency. "Stiles, I need you to meet me at the preserve. There's been a murder."
Stiles' blood ran cold. He stopped walking, his entire body going rigid.
"A murder?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his grip tightening around the phone. Scott, picking up on the shift in his demeanor, tensed beside him.
Sheriff Stilinski sighed. "It's… strange, son. There are no signs of struggle. No wounds, no injuries. It looks like—" He hesitated. "It looks like the victim just fell asleep and never woke up."
Stiles' heart pounded against his ribs.
No struggle. No wounds. Just… dead.
He met Scott's gaze, his own filled with growing unease. "That's… weird," he murmured. "Really weird."
"We're still processing the scene," his father continued, his voice clipped. "But I need you here. Now."
Stiles swallowed hard. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be there soon."
He ended the call, shoving the phone into his pocket. His mind was already racing, piecing together possibilities, but none of them made sense.
Scott's eyes never left him. "What happened?"
Stiles exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "A body was found in the preserve. No sign of how they died." He paused, his throat dry. "It's like they just… dropped dead."
Scott frowned. "Supernatural?"
Stiles hesitated. His dad had sounded unsure. And that? That scared him more than anything.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But whatever it is… it's starting."
And with that, they turned toward the exit, their unfinished school day now the least of their worries.
[As they heard the news Scott and Stiles headed into the preserve without hesitation.]
The air was still in the preserve, a heavy silence pressing down on the group as Stiles and Scott followed Sheriff Stilinski into the clearing. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The quiet felt unnatural, almost like the woods themselves were holding their breath.
The victim, a middle-age man in his early thirties, lay motionless on the ground. His body was oddly peaceful, as though he had simply collapsed to sleep, but there were no signs of struggle, no evidence of anything that could have caused his death.
Sheriff Stilinski stood over the body, his face drawn with a mix of confusion and concern. "We haven't found anything unusual—no signs of an attack, no wounds, no signs of poison. It's like he just… stopped."
Stiles kneeled down, his eyes scanning the body. There were no marks, no bruises, nothing that could explain how or why he was dead. The victim's eyes were closed, and his hands were folded neatly over his chest as though he were at rest. His posture was too calm for someone who had just been killed.
"This doesn't make sense," Stiles muttered, his voice low. He glanced up at Scott, who had already started searching the area for any clues.
Scott crouched down beside the body, brushing the grass aside, inspecting the ground. "No signs of a struggle. Nothing's out of place."
Stiles frowned. "It's like… like he was just going about his day, and then bam. Dead."
"Exactly," Sheriff Stilinski said, his voice tight. "We've checked the area. No footprints, no drag marks. Nothing that points to how he got here or what happened."
Stiles stood up, looking around the preserve with a growing sense of unease. It was too quiet, too still. No animals, no distant sounds of rustling leaves. Just the sound of their own breathing.
"Is there any other evidence?" Stiles asked, turning to his dad.
His father shook his head. "We've sent the body in for an autopsy. We should know more soon, but I've never seen anything like this. No trauma, no obvious cause of death. It's like he just… collapsed."
Stiles rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "This is messed up."
Scott stood up, looking toward the trees. "We need to check the area more thoroughly. There has to be something we're missing."
Just then, Sheriff Stilinski called out to them. "We need to finish up here. The forensics team is about to arrive, and we don't want to contaminate the scene."
Stiles stood up, still holding the pendant. "Right. But whatever happened here, it's not making sense. People don't just die without a reason."
They exchanged a look, both of them knowing they were about to dive into something that could shake everything they thought they knew about Beacon Hills.
Before they could continue, a teenager riding a bike appeared from the edge of the clearing. His duffle bag slung over his shoulder, the bike's wheels kicking up small bits of dirt as he approached.
"Hey," the teenager called out, his voice carrying through the quiet air. "You're looking at the wrong direction. He didn't die here."
Stiles and Scott exchanged a brief glance before turning to face the new arrival. Their eyes instinctively narrowed, sizing up the teen.
"Okay… and who are you?" Stiles asked, his tone skeptical, his hand still gripping the pendant in his pocket.
The teen stopped a few feet away, his expression casual. "I'm just saying, look at his shoes."
Scott raised an eyebrow, looking from the teen to the body. "What are you talking about? How do you know he wasn't killed here?"
The teenager chuckled, clearly not bothered by their questioning, and hopped off his bike. He dropped the duffle bag to the ground with a soft thud. "You guys really don't recognize me?"
Stiles and Scott both narrowed their eyes, trying to place the voice. "Should we?" Stiles asked, his voice a bit sharper.
The teen grinned, a little too smug for Stiles' liking. "Well, I guess it's been a while."
Scott tilted his head, studying the teen with growing familiarity. "Wait a second… You're not..."
The teen laughed lightly, leaning against his bike. "Javi. Javi Garcia. Been a long time, huh?"
Sheriff Stilinski's eyes widened, and he moved forward, walking toward the teen with recognition in his gaze. "Javi? Is that really you?"
Javi grinned and nodded. "Yup. That's me."
Sheriff Stilinski's face lit up with surprise, stepping forward. "You were just a kid when you left. How long has it been?"
Javi chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the body before meeting their eyes again. "Since I was 14. Hard to believe it's been that long, huh?"
Stiles blinked, still not quite processing it. "Wait, wait, wait. Javi Garcia? You used to run around with us when we were kids?"
"Yep," Javi said with a grin, dropping his duffle bag to the ground casually. "Can't believe you guys don't remember me. Some friends you are."
Scott raised an eyebrow, his confusion palpable. "Okay, we'll get to the 'why are you back' part later. But right now, how do you know the body was moved?"
Javi, no longer in a joking mood, straightened up and nodded toward the victim's shoes. "Look at them. The soles are facing inward. You don't just collapse and have your shoes end up like that."
Stiles and Scott crouched down to take a closer look, and sure enough, the victim's shoes weren't positioned like someone who had simply fallen. They were angled at an odd, unnatural angle.
Stiles frowned, standing up again. "So you're saying he was moved after he died?"
Javi's expression turned serious as he nodded. "Exactly. Whoever did this moved him here after he died, probably to make it look like he just dropped dead."
Sheriff Stilinski took a step forward, studying the scene with renewed interest. "But why?"
Javi shrugged. "I don't know. But something's definitely off here. This guy didn't just die out of nowhere."
Stiles looked at the body one last time, his unease growing. "Right. Now we've got a lot more questions than answers."
Javi glanced over at him and gave a small nod. "I hear you. And trust me, you're gonna want to figure this out sooner rather than later.
Javi swung his duffle bag over his shoulder, and with a practiced motion, pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He gave Sheriff Stilinski a look, one eyebrow raised, as if the question should have been obvious.
"Mind if I take a closer look at the body?" Javi asked, already pulling the gloves onto his hands. "I've got a bit of experience with this kind of thing."
Sheriff Stilinski blinked, a little taken aback by the request. "You want to—what, examine the body?"
Javi nodded, his eyes never leaving the victim's still form. "Yeah. I can tell you're not seeing everything. You're missing the details." He glanced around at Stiles and Scott, as if daring them to question him. "I might be able to spot something that slipped by."
Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Scott, sensing Javi wasn't the type to back down, gave a reluctant nod. "If you're sure… go ahead."
Sheriff Stilinski hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright, just… be careful."
Javi didn't need another invitation. He crouched down beside the body, moving with a confidence that suggested he had done this before. His fingers worked swiftly, gently pushing the victim's hands aside to examine his palms, checking for any hidden marks or signs of struggle. He lifted the victim's shirt just slightly, his eyes scanning the torso for any bruising or abnormalities.
"See?" Javi muttered after a moment, pointing to a faint, almost imperceptible bruise on the man's ribcage. "This doesn't match the rest of the body's state. It's not a result of a fall or whatever else you're thinking. It's recent."
Scott crouched next to him, looking closely. "What does that mean?"
Javi straightened up, looking around at them. "It means whoever did this wasn't just trying to kill him. They were trying to stage it. Make it look natural. But they missed a few spots."
Stiles watched Javi, his skepticism beginning to give way to curiosity. "Okay, so you think this was... planned? But why?"
Javi shook his head, standing up. "I don't know. But someone's covering their tracks. And we're getting closer to finding out how and why."
[Then ting! Something caught Javi's attention]
Javi stood up, his eyes scanning the area once more, the tension in his posture suggesting he wasn't done with the scene yet. He stepped away from the body and began to circle the area, moving toward the trees. His gaze flicked from the ground to the tree trunks, looking for anything out of place.
After a few moments, he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a set of faint scratches on the bark of one of the trees. He moved closer, inspecting the marks more carefully.
"Hey," Javi called out to the others, gesturing toward the trees. "You see this?"
Stiles and Scott followed his gaze, frowning as they examined the marks. They were shallow but unmistakable—long, uneven gouges on the bark that looked like something—or someone—had been dragged or swung into the tree.
Javi stepped forward, squatting down to study the ground beneath the tree. "There's no way the body just ended up here naturally," he muttered to himself, tracing a finger over the dirt. "The way these marks go, I'm betting the body was hung somewhere higher, then dropped here."
Scott's eyes widened. "So you think he was... suspended?"
Javi nodded slowly, looking up at the branches above. "Yeah. Whoever did this hung him from one of these branches. When they dropped him, they probably hoped it would look like a natural death—no struggle, no obvious injuries."
Stiles blinked, the realization dawning on him. "So he wasn't just killed here, he was moved after being... hung?"
"Exactly," Javi said, his voice low. "Whoever did this didn't want anyone to know how he died. They made it look like he just dropped dead in the middle of nowhere."
Sheriff Stilinski, still standing back and observing, let out a low whistle. "That's a hell of an observation, Javi."
Javi stood up and took a step back, his eyes still scanning the trees. "This wasn't random. Someone took the time to make this look like an accident. We just have to figure out who."
Stiles crossed his arms, looking back at the body. "This is definitely more complicated than it seemed at first."
Javi gave a small, knowing smile. "You've got no idea."
Stiles watched Javi with growing curiosity. Who was this guy? He was so casual about everything, like they were investigating a petty theft instead of a possible murder. Something wasn't adding up.
"So," he interjected, "you got any other brilliant insights you want to grace us with? Or are we just supposed to sit here and watch you play detective all day?"
Javier expression shift to something serious. "Unless, you want to take over the investigation?"
Stiles' eyebrows shot up, taken aback by the response. He wasn't expecting that. He tried to play it cool, though.
"No, I... I just meant—"
He cut off as Scott gave him a look. He was just as surprised as Stiles but clearly tried to keep it hidden.
"We just want to know what happened here, that's all," Scott chimed in.*
Javi sighed then wipe his forehead. "you will know what happened, if you pay attention." He paused then looked at the body.* "The clues are in front of you."
Stiles rolled his eyes at the comment. He couldn't deny that Javi was sharp, but there was something almost cocky about the way he delivered it.
"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're the wise sage who has all the answers. But maybe you could just... share these 'clues' with us regular mortals instead of acting like you're some kind of genius detective."
Javi gave him an amused smirk. He clearly was enjoying riling Stiles up.
"Well, maybe if you'd get your head out of the clouds and actually focused on what's right in front of you, you'd see the clues too."
Stiles gritted his teeth, his irritation growing.
"Oh, so now you're insulting my attention span, huh? You think I'm not capable of solving this mystery because I don't have your eagle eyes?"
Javi stood back from the body, his eyes scanning the ground one last time. He was quiet, thoughtful, as if something still didn't sit right with him. Then, almost by instinct, he crouched down again, his attention shifting to the victim's arm.
"Hold on," Javi muttered, his fingers gently brushing over the man's forearm. There, partially hidden beneath the sleeve of the victim's shirt, was a faint mark—a small, pinprick-sized puncture.
"What's that?" Stiles asked, leaning in to get a closer look.
Javi's brow furrowed as he studied the mark. It was barely visible, but he could tell it wasn't just a bruise or a scrape. His fingers hovered over it for a moment, before he pulled out a small magnifying glass from his duffle bag and carefully held it over the puncture.
The mark, now much clearer under the magnifying glass, resembled an injection site—tiny, precise, as if someone had injected something into the man before his death.
"An injection," Javi said softly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and caution. "This changes things."
Scott leaned in, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. "So, you think someone injected him with something?"
Javi nodded, continuing to inspect the site. "Could be. The mark's too clean to be an accidental needle prick, and there's no other wound around here that could explain it. This isn't just a regular death."
Sheriff Stilinski stepped closer, peering at the site as well. "What would they have injected him with? Something that could kill him, maybe?"
Javi straightened up, his eyes flicking back toward the body, and then he shook his head. "I don't know yet. But if this is an overdose, it's pretty well staged. Whoever did this knows what they're doing. This wasn't a random act."
Stiles' eyes widened, the realization hitting him. "Wait, so you're saying someone killed him with a needle? And then tried to make it look like a natural death?"
Javi's expression grew more serious, and he slowly stood up. "Exactly. And whoever did this is a lot more methodical than we thought. This isn't just about a murder—it's about sending a message."
Sheriff Stilinski clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated. "We need to find out what was in that injection. Fast."
Javi nodded, looking down at the mark one last time before slipping the magnifying glass back into his bag. "I'll see if I can find something that can tell us more. But we need to find out who had access to this guy—and who would want to cover their tracks so carefully."
Stiles rubbed his temples. "Great. Another mystery, and no idea where to start."
Javi slung his duffle bag back over his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."
Stiles let out a frustrated sigh. "Oh, sure, like it's that easy. You're just going to magically figure it out while we all stand around like idiots."
Scott shot him a warning glance, clearly annoyed by his attitude.
"Stiles, come on, he's just trying to help."
Stiles rolled his eyes but didn't say anything further.
After a few moments of silence, as everyone processed the new discovery, one of the deputies approached Sheriff Stilinski, holding a file in his hand. His face was somber as he stepped up to the group.
"Sheriff," the deputy said, his voice low. "We've confirmed the victim's identity. His name is David Langer. He's a cardiothoracic surgeon."
Javi straightened up at the mention of the victim's profession, glancing at the deputy. "A surgeon, huh?" he mused aloud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That's a bit... unexpected. What's a surgeon doing out here?"
The deputy nodded, flipping through the file. "He's well-known in medical circles. Works out of the Beacon Hills Medical Center. He'd been here for about five years. No history of anything unusual—no criminal record. Just... a guy trying to do his job."
Stiles frowned, exchanging a glance with Scott. "A surgeon? Why would anyone want to kill him, especially in such a... precise way?"
Javi's gaze shifted to the body again, his thoughts racing. "Maybe it's not about the person. Maybe it's about what he knew."
Sheriff Stilinski crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "You think this could be connected to something in his work?"
"I don't know," Javi said, shaking his head. "But if he's a surgeon, there's a good chance he's been involved in some sensitive cases—maybe even shady ones. Not all doctors are as clean as they seem."
Scott leaned in. "So, you think he might've been involved in something... illegal?"
"Could be," Javi answered, his voice thoughtful. "Maybe someone wanted to silence him before he could talk."
Sheriff Stilinski looked at the deputy. "Get me everything you can on Langer—his patients, his cases, anything that might give us a lead."
The deputy nodded quickly. "On it, Sheriff."
As the deputy moved away, Javi glanced back at the body, a look of contemplation on his face. "This just got a lot more complicated, didn't it?"
Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Great. A surgeon with possible secrets. And we still don't know how or why he ended up like this."
Javi didn't respond immediately. His eyes lingered on the trees again, the scratches, the faint marks, the needle site—everything was pointing to a deeper, more dangerous puzzle than anyone had expected.
"We'll get there," Javi said finally, his tone steady but resolute. "We just have to keep digging."
Stiles crossed his arms, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his gaze. He wasn't ready to fully trust this newcomer just yet.
"And how do you propose we do that? It's not like we can just waltz into the hospital and start asking questions."
Scott shot Stiles a pointed look, silently telling him to ease up. But Stiles couldn't help it. His suspicion of Javi ran deep, and he wasn't about to let it go.
Sheriff Stilinski stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the scene. His tone was authoritative, as usual, but there was a hint of warmth when he looked at Javi. He cleared his throat and turned to the deputies.
"Bag the body and take it to the coroner," he ordered, his voice steady. The deputies moved quickly, following his instructions without question.
Once they had the body secured, Sheriff Stilinski turned his attention back to the trio. He took a deep breath, his eyes lingering on each of them, before speaking again. "It's good to see you back, Javi," he said with a small, genuine smile, though it was clear the situation was anything but good. "But I'll take it from here. You two," he glanced at Stiles and Scott, "you're done here for now."
Stiles exchanged a quick look with Scott. He could tell his dad wasn't just talking about the crime scene; he was talking about the involvement they were getting pulled into. Stiles, already feeling the weight of everything they'd gone through, didn't protest.
"Alright," Stiles said, trying to sound casual, though there was a slight edge to his voice. "But, Dad, you know we're not just going to sit around, right? This doesn't feel... normal. Something's off here."
Sheriff Stilinski nodded, his expression tightening. "I know, son. I'm not dismissing you, but you're both too close to this. I'll handle it, and I'll keep you updated. Right now, I need to figure out what we're dealing with. There's more going on here than any of us can see."
Scott stepped forward, looking at Javi with a raised brow. "You sure you don't want us to stick around? We can help."
Javi, still processing everything they had discovered, shook his head. "You're right. We're not getting anything else here for now." He glanced back at the body one last time. "But don't think this is over. We'll keep our ears open. Whatever's going on, it's not a coincidence."
Sheriff Stilinski gave a firm nod. "I appreciate that. But right now, I need you to let me do my job."
Javi nodded back, his demeanor serious. "Understood, Sheriff."
Stiles gave a small sigh, nudging Scott. "Alright, guess we're off the clock for now. Let's go."
As they walked away from the scene, the weight of the day pressing on them, Javi's eyes never left the preserve. Something told him this wasn't just a random murder—and he wasn't going to let it go.
The three of them walked away from the crime scene, the gravity of the situation still heavy on their minds. The tension was palpable, each of them deep in thought.
As they reached the edge of the preserve, Stiles let out a frustrated sigh. "I know my dad means well, but this doesn't feel right. Something's off about that whole scene."
Scott nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I don't buy the whole 'no sign of injury, just dropped dead' thing. That's... not natural. It doesn't add up."
Javi, who had been unusually quiet, was looking back at the preserve, his eyes narrowed. "You guys still thinking this is some kind of... medical mystery?"
Stiles glanced over at him. "You don't think it's connected?"
Javi shrugged, though his gaze was still focused ahead. "Could be. But there's something about the way he was left there. It's like someone wanted to make sure the body was found—deliberately placed. That doesn't scream 'random murder' to me."
Scott frowned. "So, you think someone... moved him there on purpose?"
"Exactly," Javi replied, nodding slightly. "I don't know why yet, but I'm betting this wasn't just some unfortunate accident."
Stiles glanced over at Javi. "What makes you so sure?"
Javi paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "It's the little things. The marks on the trees, the position of the body, and the injection site I found. It's not enough to draw a conclusion, but it's enough to say this isn't just your average crime scene."
Scott's eyebrows furrowed. "Injection site?"
Javi nodded. "Yeah. There was a small puncture mark—could be from a needle. If someone drugged him before—whatever happened—maybe that's why he didn't fight back. Maybe he was unconscious when they moved him."
Stiles exchanged a look with Scott. "So, he was knocked out, then positioned like that... by someone who knew exactly what they were doing."
"That's what it looks like," Javi confirmed. "Whoever did this, they knew how to make the scene look like an accident. Too clean, too precise."
There was a long pause as the trio walked toward the town.
Scott finally broke the silence. "So what now?"
Javi didn't hesitate. "We keep looking into Langer. There's got to be something about him—his work, his patients—something that connects him to whoever did this."
Stiles chuckled dryly. "Great. A surgeon with a secret life. This is just getting better and better."
"Could be," Javi agreed. "Or maybe he just got caught up in something bigger than him. Either way, I'm not backing off until I know what really happened."
Scott clapped him on the back. "You're not alone, Javi. We'll figure this out together."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah, because apparently we're experts in dealing with the weird and dangerous now."
Javi gave him a sidelong grin. "I'd like to think so. But we've still got a lot of questions to answer."
As they walked down the familiar streets of Beacon Hills, the weight of the investigation settled over them. No one spoke as they neared their destination, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Javi had been gone for years, and now that he was back, everything felt... different. The town was different. And something told him that what they had just uncovered was just the tip of the iceberg.
Whatever happened to David Langer, the real story was still out there, waiting to be uncovered. And Javi wasn't about to stop until they had answers.
Stiles groaned as they continued down the sidewalk. The weight of their investigations was starting to feel heavier by the minute. He looked at Javi, eyeing the newcomer with skepticism.
"I still don't trust you, you know," he said bluntly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Just because you've been hanging around since we were kids doesn't mean you're not hiding something."
Scott looked at Stiles, his expression pleading. "Stiles, come on..."
Stiles shot Scott a Look. "What? I'm just being honest."
Javi smirked, not at all fazed by Stiles' suspicion. If anything, he seemed to find it amusing.
"You say that like I should be offended," Javi said, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. "I'd be more worried if you weren't suspicious. That'd mean you're losing your edge."
Stiles narrowed his eyes, but before he could come up with a retort, Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Guys, can we not do this right now?" Scott asked, exasperated. "We have an actual murder mystery on our hands."
Javi chuckled. "Relax, Scott. Stiles and I go way back. This is just how we talk."
Stiles huffed. "Yeah, well, I don't like not knowing things. And you? You're a big, fat question mark right now."
Javi shrugged, unbothered. "Then I guess you'll just have to keep watching, won't you?"
Stiles scoffed but didn't argue. Scott, meanwhile, glanced between the two, clearly wondering how he had ended up stuck in the middle of this dynamic.
"So," Scott said, steering the conversation back on track. "Where do we start? We can't exactly walk into the hospital and demand answers."
"Maybe we don't have to," Javi mused. "Hospitals have networks, people talk. If Langer was into something shady, there's bound to be someone who knows about it."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "And you just happen to know how to dig into hospital gossip?"
Javi gave him a look. "You'd be surprised what people will tell you if you ask the right way."
Scott looked uncertain. "Even if we do find someone who knows something, what are the chances they'll actually talk to us?"
"Depends," Javi said, his expression thoughtful. "But I have an idea. We just need to get to the hospital and find the right person to talk to."
Stiles groaned. "Great. So we're sneaking into a hospital now. Because that always ends well."
Javi grinned. "Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure?"
Stiles shot him a glare. "Oh sorry I left it in my room." Then he rolled his eyes.
Scott sighed. "Alright. If we're doing this, we have to be smart about it. No breaking in, no causing trouble. We just ask some questions and see what we can find out."
Javi smirked. "Of course. Nothing but good, clean investigating."
Stiles muttered under his breath, "Why do I not believe you?"
As the three of them continued walking, a feeling settled over them—one that was all too familiar. They were diving headfirst into something dangerous. And whether they were ready or not, there was no turning back now.
Javi sighed then looked at Stiles. " You want to solve this case or not?"
Stiles met Javi's gaze, his expression firm.
"Of course we do," he answered, his voice serious. "But that doesn't change the fact that you've been gone for years, and now you're suddenly back, playing detective."
Scott frowned at his friend's response. "Come on, Stiles, cut him some slack."
Stiles let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm just saying, we don't know him anymore. We can't just blindly trust him."
Javi didn't flinch at Stiles' words. Instead, he studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I get it," Javi finally said, his tone even. "You don't trust me. That's fine." He took a step closer, his gaze steady. "But this isn't about me. It's about finding out what happened to Langer. So you can either keep grilling me, or we can focus on the real problem."
Stiles clenched his jaw, clearly torn. He didn't like the idea of letting Javi off the hook so easily, but he also knew he couldn't ignore the case. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Fine," Stiles muttered. "But I'm watching you."
Javi smirked. "I'd be disappointed if you weren't."
Scott sighed, relieved that the tension had settled—at least for now. "Okay, so, hospital first?"
Javi nodded. "Yeah. If Langer was involved in something dangerous, someone at the hospital might know."
Stiles crossed his arms. "And what if they don't feel like talking?"
Javi's smirk didn't fade. "Then we ask differently."
Scott shot him a wary look. "Please tell me that doesn't involve anything illegal."
Javi chuckled. "Relax, McCall. I just mean we get creative."
Stiles groaned. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"
Javi clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "Because you probably will."
Scott turned to Javi, his brow furrowed in thought. "You said earlier that those marks in the trees show the victim was hung there, then the body landed on the spot?"
Javi nodded, his expression serious as he considered his words. "Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. The way the branches were bent and the marks on the bark—it's like someone hung him up higher, and then, at some point, moved him. The body didn't just fall there naturally."
Stiles, who had been walking quietly next to them, chimed in. "So you're saying someone took the time to hang him somewhere, then brought him down and put him in the exact spot we found him? That's... messed up."
Javi shrugged slightly, still looking pensive. "It's not just about where he was placed. It's about how. If he was strung up, it means whoever did it had control of the situation. They planned it, set it up, and then moved him—probably with care. There's no way he ended up there by accident."
Scott chewed on the information for a moment, his mind racing. "If he was hung... and then placed there... Why make it look like an accident? Why not just leave the body where they killed him?"
Javi shot him a glance, his eyes sharp. "That's the thing. Whoever did this, they're trying to send a message. Hanging someone, even if it's temporary, is theatrical. It's designed to make a statement. And placing the body where it was found? That's calculated."
Stiles grimaced, running a hand through his hair. "Great, so we're dealing with someone who knows how to cover their tracks and send cryptic messages. Just what we needed."
"Yeah," Javi agreed, his voice quieter now. "But that also means they're not done. Whoever's behind this? They're not finished with whatever they started."
Scott's eyes narrowed. "You think this was a one-time thing? Or does this have a bigger purpose?"
Javi paused for a long moment, looking back toward the preserve, as if the trees themselves might hold the answers. "I don't know yet. But I'm guessing we're just seeing the beginning. And I don't think it'll be long before more people start asking questions."
Stiles didn't like the sound of that. "And we're gonna be the ones to answer them, right?"
Javi smirked, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes. "I mean, you two are always in the thick of things, so why stop now?"
Scott gave him a tired but determined smile. "We don't stop, Javi. Not until we figure out what's going on."
Stiles suddenly gasped, his eyes widening as the realization hit him. He turned to Scott and Javi, his voice urgent. "Wait a minute! My dad said there were no footprints at the scene, no drag marks—nothing. Just... nothing at all. But Javi found those marks on the trees."
Javi gave him a sharp look, his expression intense. "Exactly. Those marks weren't from a struggle. They're from the body being hung higher up. The person who moved him knew exactly where to place the marks to make it look like he just... appeared there."
Scott's brows furrowed, processing the new angle. "But if there's no drag marks, no footprints... How the hell did the killer move him without leaving anything behind?"
Stiles bit his lip, thinking rapidly. "That's the thing. Whoever did it must've had some way of getting the body from one spot to another without a trace. It's like they knew how to cover their tracks—no evidence left behind, not even a slip-up."
Javi nodded, glancing between the two. "Yeah, and the fact that there were no signs of struggle? It suggests that Langer might've been unconscious or—" He hesitated. "Or drugged. We found that injection mark. Whatever was done to him, it was careful. Strategic."
Scott's eyes narrowed as he pieced the theory together. "Someone knocked him out, moved him without leaving a trace, and hung him up—probably to make it look like he was... suspended. Then they carefully placed him back where they knew he'd be found."
Stiles stepped forward, his excitement growing as the puzzle started to come together. "This isn't just a random killing. This is planned. Somebody wanted Langer to be found this way."
Javi looked at them, his voice measured. "And that's not the work of someone who just kills for the sake of it. Whoever's behind this is methodical, calculating. They want something—something more than just a death."
Stiles' eyes gleamed with determination. "We've gotta find out what it is. The victim wasn't just a random target. There's a bigger picture here."
Scott gave him a solemn nod. "Let's figure it out, then."
Javi's voice cut through the silence as he spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "We will. And don't forget those faint bruises on the victim's torso. If my deduction is correct, he probably got them when he was hung on the trees."
Stiles and Scott both turned to him, their expressions now more focused as they processed his words.
Scott's brow furrowed. "Bruises from being hung? You think they were caused by the ropes or whatever was used to suspend him?"
Javi nodded. "Exactly. The position of the bruises matches the way someone would've been hanging. If they were wrapped around his torso or arms to hold him up, it would've caused those marks. But the thing is, they weren't deep bruises—they were faint, almost like he was hanging there for a short time, but just long enough to leave a mark. Not enough to cause major injury, but enough to tell a story."
Stiles looked at Javi, a new sense of understanding forming. "So the bruises tell us he wasn't just put there after he died. He was alive when he was placed there. Whoever did this didn't kill him right away. They... kept him suspended for a while before they finished whatever they planned."
Javi gave a small shrug, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "I'm just piecing things together, but that's what the evidence seems to suggest. The lack of struggle, the marks on the trees, the bruises... it all points to the victim being alive when they placed him there. The killer wasn't in a rush."
Scott's jaw tightened. "That's messed up. They took their time."
"Exactly," Javi said, his gaze turning dark. "And that's what makes this more than just a random murder. Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. They were making a point."
Stiles rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of everything. "We've got a victim who was drugged, hung, and then placed on the ground, but we still don't know why. There's no clear motive yet."
"We'll find it," Javi said, his voice steady. "But first, we need to get more information on the victim—David Langer. There has to be something about him that connects to whoever did this."
Stiles gave a half-smile, the tension easing slightly. "I like the way you think. Let's start digging."
Scott, though still deep in thought, nodded in agreement. "We'll figure this out. One piece at a time."
Javi rubbed his temples, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the scene in his mind. "But something's bugging me about those bruises. It's not from the fall."
Stiles looked at him, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean? You're saying the bruises don't match the fall?"
Javi nodded, his expression serious. "Exactly. The way the bruises are spread across his torso—it's not consistent with someone just falling. The victim would've taken most of the impact in a different area if he had fallen from a height. These marks—they're more concentrated in places where you'd get them if you were being held or restrained, like something was pressing into him from the sides."
Scott frowned. "You think someone was holding him up, even while he was suspended? Like keeping him in that position on purpose?"
Javi's lips tightened as he considered this. "That's what I'm thinking. These bruises were caused by something pressing against him while he was hanging. Maybe someone was supporting his weight, holding him there while he was alive. It would explain why the bruises aren't from the fall, and why they're faint but still visible."
Stiles crossed his arms, his mind working through the new theory. "So the killer wasn't just hanging him as part of some sick setup. They were holding him there—maybe keeping him in that position, letting him stay alive long enough to… well, make him suffer. Or send a message."
Javi nodded grimly. "That's what it looks like. Whoever did this wasn't just trying to kill him quickly. They were toying with him. Testing his limits."
Scott looked away, his expression troubled. "That's twisted."
Stiles' face darkened as he absorbed the implications. "It means this wasn't random. It was personal. Someone's sending a message. But who?"
Javi exhaled slowly, his mind still processing. "We need to find out more about David Langer. Who he was involved with, what connections he might have had. If this was some kind of message, there's got to be someone who wanted him in that position."
Scott looked over at Javi. "And how do we find that out?"
Javi's gaze hardened. "We start with his life. The victim might've been a surgeon, but there's more to him than just that. We dig deeper—talk to people who knew him, get into his personal history. The bruises, the way he was treated before he died... They all point to something more than just a murder. This was staged."
Stiles' eyes locked onto Javi. "Let's get to work, then. The sooner we figure out who's behind this, the better."
Scott frowned, his mind working through the details. "Okay, but how about the victim's position? He was found in a sleeping position, right? He looked peaceful, like he just lay down and never woke up. But if he was hanging, why doesn't he have any bruises other than his torso? Shouldn't he have marks from where the rope or whatever was used to hold him up was cutting into his neck or arms?"
Javi glanced at the body again, his expression thoughtful. "That's a good point, Scott. You would expect to see marks on his neck, wrists, or even his ankles—anywhere that a rope might have been used to suspend him. But there's nothing like that."
Stiles shifted, rubbing his chin. "So, maybe he wasn't hung for that long. Maybe they didn't use a rope at all."
Javi narrowed his eyes, considering the possibility. "I doubt it. Those bruises on his torso? They're from something pressing against him while he was suspended. Whoever did this probably used some kind of method to hold him up without leaving marks on his limbs. They wanted him to look like he was just sleeping. But they still needed to get the message across."
Scott shook his head, still confused. "So, he wasn't hung for long, but long enough to get those bruises on his torso?"
Javi nodded, his eyes scanning the scene once more. "Exactly. It's possible he was suspended, but not in the traditional sense. Maybe he was held by something else, or in a way that didn't leave marks on his neck or arms. The lack of additional injuries tells us that whoever did this was trying to make it look natural, like he just peacefully fell asleep and never woke up."
Stiles was deep in thought, piecing everything together. "So, the killer staged it to look like a natural death, but the bruises tell us otherwise. They wanted him to look like he died in his sleep, but they kept him alive long enough for him to suffer, just not long enough for the hanging to leave a full set of marks."
Javi sighed, his frustration mounting. "Exactly. It's messed up. They knew exactly how to make this look like an accident, but they also knew what they were doing when it came to making sure the victim was alive just long enough to feel it."
Scott clenched his jaw, his gaze steely. "Whoever did this is sick. They took their time."
Javi's expression darkened. "And that's exactly why we need to figure out who the victim really was. There's something more to this than just a random murder. Langer had a reason to be targeted."
Javi spoke again, his eyes narrowing as a new idea formed. "Okay, how's this? What if the victim was unconscious when he got hung? We found that injection site on his neck, right?"
Stiles blinked, a little surprised by the shift in direction. "You think he was knocked out first? And then—"
Javi nodded, his expression serious. "It would explain a lot. If he was unconscious when he was hung, he wouldn't have had time to fight it or react. The lack of marks on his limbs makes more sense, too—no struggling, no weight bearing down on his body when he was suspended. Whoever did this probably injected him to knock him out, then hung him up to make it look like a peaceful death."
Scott frowned, processing the new theory. "So, he wasn't awake when he was put in that position. He couldn't have fought back because he was drugged. But then why would they leave the bruises on his torso?"
Javi's eyes lit up, his mind piecing it together. "The bruises on his torso were caused by something pressing against him while he was unconscious and hanging. The killer could have used something to keep him in that position for a while—maybe a rope or even some kind of restraint—but without putting weight on his limbs. That's why there's no visible damage on his neck or arms."
Stiles' eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. "That could explain why he looks so peaceful when we found him. It's like the killer made it look like he just peacefully fell asleep. But it's all part of the plan. The victim was drugged, hung up to look natural, but he didn't die from the hanging. He was already out of it when it happened."
Javi looked at both of them. "Exactly. The killer knew exactly what they were doing. They used the injection to make sure the victim wouldn't resist, and then set everything up to look like he just... peacefully passed away in his sleep."
Scott grimaced. "That's a pretty messed-up way to stage a death. But it makes sense. The killer didn't want him to suffer or fight—they wanted him to look like he died naturally."
Javi rubbed his chin, his eyes scanning the scene. "This whole thing feels planned—like a carefully orchestrated scene. Whoever did this wasn't just trying to kill Langer. They were sending a message. The victim's life, his position, everything about the scene, it all feels too deliberate."
Stiles looked around, his mind racing. "If that's true, then the victim wasn't just some random guy. There's a reason why Langer was chosen."
Scott's jaw tightened. "Then we find out who he pissed off. We find the connection."
Javi nodded firmly, the urgency of the situation weighing on him. "Exactly. We need to figure out what Langer was involved in, who he knew, and why this happened to him."
Scott sighed, his frustration mounting. "We don't even know the cause of death though. We're guessing here, but nothing makes sense until we know exactly how he died."
Javi nodded, his expression still focused. "True, we're just piecing things together based on the evidence we've got. But whatever killed him—it wasn't the hanging. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't the fall either. Those bruises on his torso, the injection site, and the way he was positioned—all of that tells us the cause of death is something else."
Stiles crossed his arms, tapping his foot. "Yeah, and his body didn't show the signs of a typical hanging death. No strangulation marks, no cuts or abrasions that you'd expect. So, there's got to be something else."
Scott looked at Javi, his brow furrowed. "But we still don't have any concrete answers. That injection site, the way he was left—it's all weird. I feel like we're missing something really obvious."
Javi exhaled, looking at the body once more, as if the answers might be hiding in plain sight. "The thing is, the injection might be the key. It could've been some kind of sedative, something that knocked him out but didn't kill him right away. The killer might've injected him, hung him up, and then left him there until he eventually died, maybe from asphyxiation or even from something else."
Stiles grimaced. "That sounds... messed up. So, he was drugged, hung, and just left to die like that?"
Javi nodded. "That's a possibility. But we need to get the coroner involved to determine what the exact cause of death was. Until we know that, we're just guessing."
Scott rubbed his temple, clearly agitated. "Yeah, we're still in the dark. But at least we've got a better idea of how the killer might've staged the scene. The connection to the victim still bugs me, though. Why Langer?"
Javi's eyes flickered back to the body. "That's the million-dollar question. But right now, we need to focus on getting the coroner to confirm the cause of death, then start looking into Langer's connections. He wasn't just some random victim. Whoever did this knew exactly how to make it look like something it wasn't."
Stiles let out a breath, nodding. "I guess we just have to wait for the coroner and hope they can give us something concrete. In the meantime, we keep digging into who Langer really was."
Scott's gaze hardened, his resolve building. "We'll get answers. One way or another."
Javi sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated by the lack of answers. "Okay, okay, let's recap all the clues we've got so far."
Scott nodded, crossing his arms. "Alright. First, we know David Langer was found lying peacefully, like he just… fell asleep. No signs of a struggle, no drag marks, nothing."
Stiles added, tapping his fingers against his chin. "But we also know that's staged. Javi found those markings on the tree—meaning Langer was hung up before being placed on the ground."
Javi exhaled sharply. "Right. And the bruises on his torso? They're faint, but they line up with him being suspended, held up by something pressing against his body. But the weird part? No rope burns, no bruises on his neck or wrists, no signs that he was struggling."
Scott frowned. "Which means he was either unconscious or too weak to fight back."
Stiles snapped his fingers. "The injection site! We found that tiny mark on his neck. That could explain why he wasn't fighting—someone drugged him first."
Javi nodded, his mind working through the details. "That makes sense. The injection would've knocked him out, making it easier to stage the scene without resistance. They could've hung him up, let him stay there just long enough to get those pressure bruises, then moved him back down before the drugs fully killed him—or before finishing him off some other way."
Scott's face darkened. "Then that means the real cause of death isn't obvious. If it wasn't the hanging, and it wasn't the fall… then what killed him?"
Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And that's what we need the coroner to figure out. If there's something in his system, Melissa—or whoever's handling the autopsy—should be able to confirm it."
Javi crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "And until we get those results, we focus on David Langer. Why was he targeted? If this wasn't random, then someone wanted him dead for a reason."
Scott exchanged a look with Stiles. "We start digging. Check his past, his connections, anything that might tell us why someone went through all this trouble to make his death look like an accident."
Stiles sighed but nodded. "Alright. Time to do what we do best—find trouble before it finds us."
Javi smirked slightly. "And here I thought I was just catching up with old friends. Turns out, I walked right into a full-blown murder mystery."
Scott gave a half-smile, though his expression remained serious. "Welcome back to Beacon Hills."
*Stiles huffed.* "I still don't trust you Javi, you suddenly vanished after Middle School."
Javi raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. "Yeah, well, I had my reasons."
Stiles scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you did. But you show up out of nowhere, right when a murder happens, and now you're playing detective like you've done this before? Yeah, forgive me if I'm not rolling out the welcome mat."
Scott shot Stiles a look. "Dude—"
"No, let him talk," Javi interrupted, his sharp gaze locking onto Stiles. "You're suspicious of me. Fine. But let's get one thing straight—I didn't come back here looking for dead bodies. I came back for a fresh start. And what do I get? My first night back, I literally trip over a crime scene."
Stiles crossed his arms. "Convenient."
Javi exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed. "You think I planned this? That I killed some random guy just to impress you with my detective skills? Come on, Stilinski, even you have to admit that sounds ridiculous."
Scott stepped between them, raising a hand. "Alright, enough. Javi, we get it—you didn't ask for this. But Stiles has a point. You disappeared, and now you're back, acting like you know more than you should. So if there's something you're not telling us, now's the time."
Javi hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a second, something flickered in his expression—uncertainty, maybe even guilt—but then it was gone.
"I don't have all the answers, Scott," he admitted, voice quieter. "But I know how to read a crime scene. And I know something about this doesn't add up. So, you can either keep side-eyeing me, or we can work together and figure out who really killed David Langer."
Stiles didn't look convinced, but Scott sighed. "Fine. But if we find out you're hiding something…"
Javi smirked slightly, the tension still thick between them. "Yeah, yeah. You'll be the first to call me out."
Javi added. "If we solve this case I will answer everything you wanted to know."
Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so now it's a game? Solve the case, win some answers?"
Javi shrugged. "Call it whatever you want, but that's my deal. You help me figure this out, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."
Scott exchanged a glance with Stiles. He could see the gears turning in his best friend's head, the skepticism still strong, but the offer was tempting. If Javi really was hiding something, this was their best shot at getting the truth.
Stiles exhaled sharply. "Fine. But if I even think you're screwing with us, I'm dragging your ass to my dad."
Javi mounted his bike, swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder with practiced ease. He reached inside and pulled out two small badges, tossing one to Stiles and then to Scott. "That's for communication," he said with a grin. "Keep them on you. They'll make things easier if you need to reach me, or if things get... complicated."
Stiles caught the badge, eyeing it skeptically. "And what, exactly, is this? Some kind of high-tech spy gear?"
Javi smirked. "Let's just say I like to be prepared. Think of it like a walkie-talkie, but better. Instant communication, no static, and no need to pull out your phone if things go sideways."
Scott turned the badge over in his hand. It was small, lightweight, and looked like an ordinary pin. "Where did you even get these?"
Javi simply winked. "Let's just say Europe has its perks."
Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, see, that doesn't help me trust you any more."
Javi laughed, revving his bike. "Good. Wouldn't want to make things too easy for you."
With that, he kicked off, speeding down the road, leaving Scott and Stiles standing there, badges in hand and more questions than answers.
As Javi rode off, the setting sun cast a warm, amber glow across the sky, the fading light filtering through the trees of the preserve. The day had been long, filled with unanswered questions and unsettling clues, but as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, there was a quiet calm that settled over Beacon Hills—one that felt like the calm before the storm.
Stiles and Scott stood side by side, watching the silhouette of their friend grow smaller with each pedal. The wind was picking up, carrying the scent of pine and earth, but it couldn't shake the weight of what they had just discovered. There was something darker at play, something that had yet to reveal itself.
The world seemed to pause for a moment, caught between the end of the day and the uncertainty of what was to come. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the trees, the cool night air began to settle in.
Scott exhaled, breaking the silence. "We're getting closer, aren't we?"
Stiles nodded, his voice quiet but firm. "Yeah. But we're not there yet."
The sun's final light painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting long shadows on the ground. As night crept in, they both turned toward the path ahead, the promise of answers—however distant—guiding them forward.
The mystery wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
And as the darkness settled in around them, the quiet hum of the world seemed to echo their thoughts: Whatever was coming, they weren't ready for it.