The rain hadn't stopped for three days.
Not properly. Just a thin, steady drizzle that never quite went away. It soaked into everything—the streets, the walls, the air itself—until the whole city felt damp and slightly off, like something left out too long.
Elara Voss pulled her coat tighter as she stepped under the police tape.
No one stopped her.
They rarely did anymore.
Someone recognized her, or maybe they just didn't feel like arguing tonight. Either way, she was already inside before anyone thought to ask.
A body lay in the alley.
Female. Late twenties, maybe. The rain had blurred the edges of everything, but not enough to hide what mattered. Blood still traced a thin line along the pavement, slipping slowly toward the drain.
Elara slowed as she approached, her gaze moving—not randomly, never randomly. Details came first. Always.
Position. Angle. Distance.
She crouched beside the body, careful not to touch anything.
Clean cut.
Too clean.
Not panic. Not rage.
This was deliberate.
"Miss Voss."
A voice from behind her. One of the officers, uncertain but not surprised.
"You got here fast."
Elara didn't look up. "She called me."
That part was true.
What she didn't say was how the call had sounded.
No words. Just breathing. Uneven. Strained. Like the person on the other end was trying to hold something together—and failing.
It had stayed with her longer than it should have.
"She called you?" the officer repeated. "You knew her?"
"No."
Elara finally glanced back, just briefly. "I write about cases like this. People reach out sometimes."
That was the simplest way to explain it.
Not entirely accurate, but close enough.
The officer nodded, like that answered something. It didn't.
Elara's attention had already shifted again.
The victim's phone lay a short distance away, screen still lit despite the rain. A fracture ran across the glass, splitting the display but not darkening it.
Missed calls. Outgoing calls.
One number.
Repeated.
She leaned closer, just enough to read.
And then—
she stilled.
It was a small reaction. Easy to miss.
But inside, something slipped out of place.
That didn't make sense.
Not here. Not now.
"Something wrong?" the officer asked.
Elara blinked once, slow, like she was clearing something from her vision.
"No," she said.
Too quickly.
She straightened, brushing rain from her sleeve that hadn't needed brushing.
"It's probably nothing."
It wasn't.
She knew that already.
"Miss Voss—"
She handed the phone over before he could finish. "You should check the last call."
He took it, frowning slightly as he looked down.
A second passed.
Then another.
His expression changed.
Subtle—but enough.
He looked back at her.
"You know him?"
There it was.
Elara held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
For a second, she didn't answer.
Her mind was already moving—fast, precise, trying to force the pieces into something that made sense.
Timeline. Distance. Possibility.
None of it fit.
It should have been simple.
It wasn't.
"My boyfriend," she said finally.
The word felt… strange.
Like it didn't belong here.
The officer glanced back at the phone, then at her again.
"We'll need to speak with him."
Of course you will.
Elara almost said it out loud.
Instead, she nodded.
"His name is Liam Carter," the officer added, more to himself than to her. "Where is he now?"
At home.
That was the answer.
It came immediately.
Too easily.
She had left him there not long ago. The memory was clear—warm light, quiet room, the sound of rain against the window. Nothing unusual. Nothing wrong.
Normal.
So why—
Elara exhaled slowly.
"He should be at home," she said.
Should be.
The officer didn't seem to notice the difference.
But she did.
Of course she did.
She always noticed.
And as she stepped back from the scene, letting the noise of radios and footsteps close in again, one detail kept circling in her mind—
quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore.
The timing.
It didn't match.
Not exactly.
There was a gap.
Small.
Fifteen minutes, maybe less.
Most people wouldn't question it.
Elara did.
She always did.
And for the first time—
she wasn't sure she wanted to be right.