1:15 PM – THE ARCHIVE ROOM

Damien stood in front of the secured doors of the Cold Case Archives, his badge barely granting him access. His heart pounded as he swiped his ID, the heavy doors clicking open.

Rows of shelves lined the dimly lit room, filled with case files long forgotten by most detectives—except for him.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

But that serpent and dagger symbol had triggered something in him—a memory buried deep in his past.

He traced his fingers across the file cabinets, stopping at the one marked CLASSIFIED.

A quick glance over his shoulder. No one watching.

He pulled open the drawer and ran his hand along the labels.

Then, he found it.

CASE 0412-X

The case that nearly destroyed his family.

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1:35 PM – THE FILE

Damien took the folder to a private room, locked the door, and sat down. His hands trembled as he flipped open the file.

Inside, yellowed documents, old photographs, and one familiar name stared back at him:

Eleanor Blackwood.

His mother.

His breath hitched.

The case file was over twenty years old. It detailed a series of disappearances, people vanishing without a trace. But the last page contained the most shocking piece of all—

A witness statement from his mother.

Damien’s eyes scanned the old, faded text.

> "I saw them take him. They wore black masks. The symbol—a snake and dagger—was on their uniforms. This wasn’t a random kidnapping. They were sending a message."

The victim?

Jonathan Blackwood. His father.

Damien’s fingers curled into a fist.

His father didn’t die in an accident. He was taken.

And now, that same symbol had resurfaced—connected to The Specter’s killings.

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2:00 PM – THE VISITOR

A sudden knock on the archive room’s door made Damien jump. He never told anyone he was here.

Slowly, he slid his gun from his holster and approached the door.

“Who is it?”

No answer.

His instincts screamed at him. He gripped the doorknob and swung the door open—

Empty hallway.

Just as he was about to shut the door, he noticed something on the floor.

A black envelope, identical to the one left at Helen Burns’ crime scene.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

His throat went dry as he bent down and picked it up.

Inside was a single card.

A time. A location.

Midnight. Dock 17.

At the bottom, in ink that looked freshly written, was a single phrase:

“Come alone, or you’ll never learn the truth.”

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11:55 PM – DOCK 17

The docks were eerily silent, waves lapping against the wooden planks. Damien stood in the shadows, his coat billowing in the cold night air.

A single lamp flickered near an abandoned warehouse.

He wasn’t stupid—this was a trap.

But if this was connected to his father, he had to see it through.

The clock struck midnight.

A faint sound—footsteps on gravel.

A figure stepped out of the darkness.

They wore a black hood, their face obscured. But Damien’s eyes were drawn to something else—

A serpent and dagger pin gleamed on their chest.

“Detective Blackwood,” the figure said, their voice low and deliberate.

Damien tightened his grip on his gun. “Who are you?”

A pause. Then—

"Someone who knows what really happened to your father."

Damien’s breath caught in his throat.

Before he could respond, the figure tossed a folder at his feet.

“Read it. Then decide if you really want to keep chasing ghosts.”

Then, just like that, the figure turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Damien bent down, his hands shaking as he picked up the folder.

He flipped it open—

And his blood turned ice cold.

Inside were photographs.

Of his father.

Taken weeks ago.

His father was alive.

Damien’s fingers tightened around the folder, his breath heavy in the cold night air. His mind screamed that this wasn’t possible.

His father—Jonathan Blackwood—was alive?

He flipped through the photographs, each one more damning than the last. The images were recent, taken in different locations—a dimly lit alley, the entrance of an old building, a blurred silhouette behind tinted glass.

His hands trembled as he found a final picture tucked at the back of the folder.

A close-up shot of his father. His face was worn, aged, but unmistakable.

And beneath it, a date.

Three weeks ago.

Damien’s pulse pounded in his ears.

This wasn’t just some sick joke. Someone had been watching his father—tracking him.

But why?

He glanced back toward the shadows where the hooded figure had disappeared. Were they telling the truth?

Or was this another twisted game?

The wind howled across the empty docks, and for the first time in years, Damien felt something foreign claw at his chest.

Doubt.

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12:30 AM – THE CAR RIDE BACK

Damien drove in silence, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled. The city lights blurred past as he replayed everything in his mind.

* The serpent and dagger symbol—linked to The Specter and his father’s disappearance.

* The classified case file—his mother’s statement, claiming masked figures took his father.

* And now, these photographs—proof his father was out there.

He slammed a fist against the dashboard, cursing under his breath.

If his father had been alive all this time—why hadn’t he come back?

Or worse…

Had someone kept him from coming back?

A chill ran down his spine.

Whoever had left that folder wanted him to dig deeper. But that also meant someone else wanted him to stop.

And if there was one thing Damien knew…

He never stopped.

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1:15 AM – BLACKWOOD’S APARTMENT

Damien shut the door behind him and threw the folder onto his desk. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, his hands still shaking.

As the amber liquid burned down his throat, he picked up his phone.

He needed answers.

And there was only one person he trusted to get them.

He scrolled to a name in his contacts and hit call.

The line rang twice before a groggy voice answered.

"Jesus, Damien, it’s the middle of the night—"

“I need you to run a name.”

A sigh. “You never sleep, do you?”

“Jonathan Blackwood. Alive.”

Silence.

Then—“What?”

“I have proof. Someone’s been watching him. I need you to find out everything—where these photos were taken, surveillance footage, anything.”

A long pause. Then:

“…Alright. Send me what you’ve got. But Damien—if your father really is alive, you realize what this means?”

“I know.”

It meant everything he thought he knew about his past was a lie.

And someone had gone to great lengths to keep it that way.

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2:45 AM – THE FIRST THREAT

Damien was reviewing the photos when his phone vibrated.

A new message. Unknown Number.

STOP DIGGING.

Before he could process it, another message came in.

YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH.

Damien’s jaw clenched.

A third message.

TURN AROUND.

His blood went cold.

Slowly, he reached for his gun and turned—

His apartment window was open.

A shadow flickered past.

By the time he reached the window, the intruder was gone.

But left behind on his desk was a single object.

A dagger-shaped pin, engraved with a serpent.

The same symbol.

A warning.

But Damien Blackwood wasn’t one to be scared off.

Whoever had left this message had just made one critical mistake.

They had challenged him.

And now?

He was never going to stop.