After they received the results from the lab, everything went very fast.

The mystery woman was identified and her abandoned hotel room thoroughly searched. Her description was sent out to all public spaces—parks, malls, hospitals, spaceports...

A few hours later, the police picked her up after they were informed a file had been opened under her name at the Cadmere Hospital.

Susan Caine was brought in and the two detectives were informed of her arrest.

She sat in the interrogation room, quiet and sullen.

“What was your relationship with the deceased?” asked Ward.

The young brunette did not answer.

“We know you were in that house when he was killed. We found your prints on a lipstick you dropped in the bathroom. Even as we speak, a team has been dispatched to the house, and I bet they’ll find more of your prints there, all over the place... in John’s bed, maybe?”

Brown did not twitch—he knew this was a mere tactic to get a reaction out of the woman. And it worked, too.

She seemed disgusted by the suggestion. “No! I did not... No! I... He was just helping me, is all.”

“Helping you how?”

Her eyes moved away from the detective.

“Look,” said Brown softly, “we know you had nothing to do with it...” He ignored his colleague’s surprised look and went on: “But we need your help to find the killer.”

Susan started sobbing. “It’s all my fault! I should never have...”

“Never have what?” asked Ward hopefully.

“You don’t understand... they killed him to silence him. So he wouldn’t tell me the truth.”

Brown frowned. This was becoming even more puzzling.

“The truth about what?”

Her eyes shot between them. “I... I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. It’s too dangerous. I can’t say anything.”

“You’re safe here,” said Ward. “We can protect you.”

She didn’t seem convinced.

Brown leaned closer.

“I promise you, we will do everything in our power to keep you safe. Besides, what better way to keep yourself—and others—safe than by catching whoever is behind this? And the only way we can do that is if you tell us everything.”

The young woman thought about this for a moment, bit her lip, then nodded.

“Alright.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “My parents were murdered. Five years ago. I’ve been trying to find who was behind it ever since. This led me to Rosenkrantz...”

“What?” asked Brown. “Who were your parents?”

“David and Wilma Caine.”

“Never heard of them,” he said.

Ward gave another look at his partner as Brown sat, a frown on his face.

Susan shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to have. It’s not like they were celebrities or anything. Not to mention, it happened on Lythranus.”

Brown remained quiet, though his mind was racing. None of this was ringing any bells. It made even less sense than before.

“And you followed a lead to Exudia?” asked Ward.

“Yes. To Rosenkrantz. I was told he knew what had happened to my parents. That he had answers.”

“Who told you this?”

“I don’t know his name. A man I met... well, he came to me. He’d heard about my search. Gave me this guy’s name and address.”

“So you didn’t know the victim?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Not at all! I’d never even heard of him before that day.”

“Then what happened?”

“He—I mean, that man... he warned me that Rosenkrantz would not tell me anything, that he’d laugh at my face if I confronted him directly. So he gave me a truth serum.”

The two detectives glanced at each other.

“And now,” she said as she began to sob again, “he’s dead. They killed him before he could tell me anything. It’s all my fault!”

Ward handed her a box of tissues. “How did you get close to the victim?”

“And how did you give him the serum?” added Brown.

She looked at them as she wiped her tears with a tissue.

“Well...”

***

I watched the house for several hours. I got there early in the morning, because I wanted to make sure Rosenkrantz would be alone. So I waited for his friend, the doctor, to leave for work.

Then I went to the door and rang.

I told him my glider had broken down and that I’d called a friend to come pick me up, but it would take him a while. And it was freezing that day, so could I stay in the house until my friend arrived?

He was kind. Said that yes, I could.

But all I was seeing was the man who had the answers I sought. Could he have been involved in the murder himself? I was determined to find out.

I noticed he had been watching some old TriVid flick when I’d arrived, that he’d paused mid-scene.

He offered me a drink while we waited.

I thought it would be easier to get the serum into him if I could pour it into his glass.

So after we both had our drinks, I told him I’d heard a sound outside... He wasn’t worried, because the house was built so high above the beach, so there couldn’t be a prowler. But I told him there were many remote-controlled devices that could be used to spy or even attack a target.

Though still dubious, he went to look through the window. Likely more to appease me then through genuine concern.

The house is close to the spaceport, and a ship was coming down to land in the distance.

I spiked his drink while he was distracted.

It only took a few minutes to affect him, but it was not what I had expected. He was drifting away, getting drowsy, and it unnerved me. How was I supposed to get answers from him if he fell asleep?

I took my empty glass and went to the bathroom to fill it with water. I planned to throw it at his face to try and wake him.

That was when my lipstick fell from my bag. I remember, because I leaned down to pick it up but was interrupted when I heard a loud thud coming from the living room.

I rushed back and found Rosenkrantz was gone. The window to the balcony was wide open—he’d closed it after inspecting outside. I thought maybe he had gone out to get some fresh air...

But when I went to the balcony, I saw that part of the railing was broken. I looked over it... and saw his body lying down there on the beach!

I panicked, and I ran.

At first, I thought he’d jumped.

But then I heard the news and realized someone had gotten to him before he could speak to me.

They must have been watching us all along!

***

“You were deceived,” said Brown.

Susan stared at him, not understanding.

“That truth serum? It wasn’t a truth serum. It was a drug meant to paralyze the victim so he could more easily be tossed over the railing. It was a carefully planned scheme. Whoever gave you that drug is either the killer, or knows who the killer is.”

The woman’s face was colored with confusion, then shock as she started to grasp the meaning of that explanation, then anger.

“What about my parents?”

“I doubt the victim knew anything about them.”

“So he manipulated me?”

“That is what it looks like,” said Brown. “If you can describe him to us, that could help us catch him.”

Susan was so enraged by then that she was very cooperative.

Brown gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight as an acute pain coursed through his head.

“You okay, partner?” asked Ward.

“Yes. I just need a moment,” he said as he stood and hurried out of the room.

The pain was a familiar one. He knew exactly what it meant. It wouldn’t last, but it would be debilitating until it passed.

He made his way to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall, where he waited it out.

It was not a sign of illness—he was in perfect health. Nor was it a mere passing headache. No.

This was an alarm. One that he had set up a long, long time ago. One that should never have gone off at all.

Something had gone wrong.

Terribly wrong.

The pain was receding, now. Finally.

He did not remember that he had designed it to last this long. Likely, he had wanted to make sure it would wake him in case it occurred while he was sleeping.

It certainly had gotten his attention.

He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.

***

Ward watched with concern as his young partner stepped out of the room.

He had not known him very long—about two weeks, now, since shortly after Rosenkrantz’s death—but he had never seen him show pain like this.

“Alright,” he told Susan. “I’m going to take you to a sketch artist. He can help you remember things. Follow me.”

As they stepped out of the room, he pondered on Brown’s behavior. It had been odd. Could he be sick? It would have shown in his evaluation, and it’s doubtful he would have been promoted without a full medical examination.

The kid had promise and he’d be sorry to see him go.

He chided himself for going there. Why was he so negative? It probably was nothing.

“Martin!” he called out. “This is Susan Caine. We need to find a man she talked to last week. Could you draw him up for us, please?”

The sketch artist nodded and walked the woman to his desk.

Why was Ward so negative? How could he ask himself such a silly question? He knew exactly why.

Because of his wife, that was why.

He hadn’t always been like this.

He fondly remembered his first days on the force. He had been happy, then. That was before he’d met Monica. Not that they had always been unhappy together. Not at all. They had married for good reason.

So why had things changed like this?

He needed a cup of coffee, he decided.

As he made his way to the machine, he pondered on his life choices.

He often wondered what had triggered the changes in him—he was rational enough to recognize that he had changed... as had Monica, but it wasn’t all on her. It was difficult to pinpoint one singular event, though—let alone moment. It had happened gradually, over the years, as those things are wont to happen.

The coffee helped soothe his soul.

At least for a little while.