The rain had passed, leaving behind the scent of damp earth and fresh greenery. Droplets clung to the edges of leaves, slipping one by one to the ground, and puddles formed beneath the trees, mirroring the sky and the gap in the clouds where pale sunlight broke through.

Across the trees and the pristine, rain-slicked street, Eric and Evelyn sat on a covered bench in comfortable silence, watching the flow of people as pedestrians came and went—dog walkers, students with half-zipped backpacks, and tired office workers heading home while tapping their umbrellas on the pavement with soft thuds.

Evelyn caught sight of a passing student, a small piece of paper attached to the side of his backpack tagged Whale.

She strode toward him and swiftly snatched the paper away; the student didn't even notice. She returned to her seat, turning it over in her fingers, her face blank. Then, with a quiet sigh, she crushed the damp note in her palm.

Eric smirked. “They say it takes a victim to understand another.”

Evelyn glanced at him. “Didn't see you helping. Understanding all you can do?”

“I mean, if I wasn’t there, Sarah could’ve wrecked you. Quite the best friend you always brag about.”

Evelyn exhaled, shaking her head. “I thought you were the social one, Mr. Wisdom. But I guess that just means surface-level friendships.”

Eric frowned, pulling out a cigarette. “Huh?”

“Sarah and I don’t fake our emotions for the sake of each other. She’s been working nonstop over dead bodies." She pulled a lighter from her pocket and flicked it open, holding it out to him. "Cut her some slack. She’s my emotional support, and I’m hers.”

Eric took a long drag, then nodded. “I see. I didn’t expect your relationships to be that deep. I'm impressed.”

Evelyn smirked. “You’re the same to me, you know." She plucked the cigarette from his lips, taking a slow drag. "But unlike Sarah, I never had a chance to be your emotional support.”

Eric scoffed. “My wife would kill me. She’s already not comfortable with how close we are, you know?”

Evelyn leaned back against the bench, stretching. “Then why not invite me to dinner? Let’s get to know each other. I’ll even pretend to be a lesbian to ease her mind.”

Eric snorted. “That would be suspicious as hell.”

Both of them burst into laughter, their conversation drifting from topic to topic until they lost track of time.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Heavencrest

Johan and Nathan leaned against a brick wall just across the street from Johan's office. Faint music and the buzz of conversation drifted from a nearby restaurant—the very same one where Nathan and Evelyn had their blind date.

Nathan crossed his arms. “Alright, what’s going on? Who’s the girl sleeping on your sofa?”

"Long story."

"Didn't know you were this sensitive, my man. What happened to the cold bastard I knew?" Nathan smirked, patting Johan's shoulder.

Johan shrugged him off, tilting away slightly. "It’s been ten years since we last saw each other. Back then, I wasn’t cold, just a teenager trying to get attention, same as everyone else."

"So you were just acting cool?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No shit, Sherlock. What are you, a teenage girl?" Johan scoffed, a weak smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were lifeless.

Nathan chuckled. "That's more like it." But his amusement faded as quickly as it came. His tone shifted, suddenly serious. "Listen, I know this might not be the time, but... can I hire you?"

"Wait, what?"

"There’s this person I like. Our date didn’t go well, and she deleted the app. All I know is her name… and that she’s a detective. Can you follow her? Figure out what she likes..."

"Hell no." Johan cut him off sharply.

Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Come on, man, I think I'm in love. I don't—"

“Then tell her what you’re telling me.” Johan jumped in, his voice flat. “You’ll have a better shot that way. You’re attractive, and from what I know, you’re a decent guy. Just don’t be a di—”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“This girl is different.” Nathan’s fingers twitched slightly at his sides. “I don’t want to blow it. Just… check where she goes on the weekends. Find out her favorite restaurant, park, or anything. So I can make it look like fate.” He paused, locking his lit-up eyes with Johan's. "Please?"

A tense silence stretched between them.

Johan inhaled deeply, staring at the pavement. This is shady. I know we were young back then, but... Well, saying no outright is a hassle.

He sighed. "I’ll think about it. What’s her name?"

"Evelyn Carter," he blurted.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Johan murmured, tapping his chin with a finger.

Before he could think further, his phone rang, the vibration rattling against his palm.

Click.

"Hello?"

----------------------------------------

Moments Later,

Johan waved Nathan goodbye and went back to his office. Martha lay curled up on the sofa, shivering slightly beneath a coat that barely covered her small frame.

Johan knelt beside her and nudged her shoulder gently. "Martha, wake up," he called, his voice calm.

She snapped open her eyes, her body tensing before jerking upright. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't," Johan cut her off, letting out a faint smile. "There’s no harm in you sleeping here." He then sighed. "Your aunt called."

"What does she want?" Martha asked, rubbing her eyes groggily, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

"Well... she wants to take care of you now that..." Johan stuttered, his voice trailing off.

"Will you be around?"

"Of course. Whenever you need me, I'll be there." He reached out and poked her forehead lightly. "You're like a little sister to me."

"Then can you play her role instead?" Martha asked, her intense gaze fixed on Johan.

"I can't. What you need now is stability. Your aunt and cousins can give you that."

Martha let out a dry chuckle, her fingers curling against her palm. But her thoughts were elsewhere. You don't care about me. You're just feeling guilty—like my dad. He found you, and you found my aunt...

"...Martha?"

Martha blinked, snapping back to reality. "Let's go," she said, slipping on her sandals and stepping outside.

Johan followed.

"Oh no, we forgot the car," he muttered.

"Let's walk," Martha said. "Brightmatch is about an hour from here. The weather is nice."

She extended her hand toward him, palm open. “Aren’t you going to hold it?”

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t I your little sister?”

Johan clicked his tongue and took Martha’s hand as they walked side by side. Unlike hours ago, she seemed fine now—outwardly, at least. But every so often, at the end of a conversation, when silence stretched even for a few seconds, her composure faltered. Cracks began to show, and the weight of her reality threatened to spill through. Fear, perhaps, drove her to fill the void, to grasp at anything to keep her mind from wandering back to the pain.

Johan studied her, tightening his grip until his knuckles turned white. Anger boiled inside him—not at her, but at himself. He didn't know how to help. The only advice that echoed in his mind was to encourage her to let her feelings out, to stop locking them away. But the thought of what might happen if she did terrified him.

Before they could cross to Brightwatch, a middle-aged woman waved at them, her eyes weary.

“Hello,” she greeted, stepping forward. She pulled Martha into a tight hug, squeezing so hard that Martha struggled to breathe.

“Oopsies,” she chuckled, loosening her grip.

Then she turned to Johan, offering her hand. “Thank you for being there for her.”

Johan shook it firmly. “It’s alright. If she needs anything, please call me.”

The woman nodded before gently pulling Martha forward. “Come on, dear. Let’s go.”

Martha walked a few steps. Then a few more.

But suddenly, she turned and ran back to Johan, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Johan exhaled sharply, caught off guard. But his hands instinctively found her head, fingers running through her hair, ruffling it lightly.

She grumbled but didn't let go. Neither did he—at least not right away.

----------------------------------------

One Day Later – Downtown, Captain Thomas' Office

"I'm not doing that," Evelyn snapped, tossing a pen Thomas had gifted her onto the desk.

Thomas picked it up and handed it back to her. "What the hell is wrong with you? I told you the press is all over my ass. Write the damn report already—we have all the evidence."

"Circumstantial," Evelyn shot back, her eyebrows rising.

Thomas' patience snapped, and he yelled, his face turning red and his voice filling the whole department. "He confessed! Everything he said checks out—he was near both crime scenes, he has a motive, the handwriting on the letter is a perfect match, and let’s not forget the heart in his damn room! No one else could’ve gotten in. What the hell more do you want?"

"I need to be sure I'm not overlooking something," Evelyn cut him off, folding her arms, her voice firm. "Besides, we have nothing to lose by waiting. If David is the killer, it's not like he's walking free, is he?"

Thomas exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Aren't you forgetting something? We're short-staffed, and cases aren't waiting for your happy ending. Either you close the damn case, or I reassign it.

And you know who would love to take the credit? Detective Victor Langly."

Evelyn breathed heavily. "Do what you want," she muttered, turning for the door.

"You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?" Thomas barked after her. "You’re not thinking about Eric. Or me."

Evelyn hesitated; for just a second. Then she stepped out, shutting the door behind her, leaving Thomas simmering in frustration.

He sat, rubbing his temples. Annoying brat.

"Why are you always so lenient with her?" his secretary asked.

Thomas’ expression darkened. "I'm just doing it for the sake of her late father." He approached her, running a hand over her face. "He was just as annoying, making me look after her."

The secretary leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Shouldn’t she be more grateful?" Her long nails traced over his chest. "Like me."

"She doesn't know," he said, his gaze distant.

----------------------------------------

One Week Later – Heavencrest, Johan's Office

Johan sat at his wooden desk, sipping his morning coffee. The scent of roasted beans filled the room as he flipped open the latest journal.

The front page read: "Double Murder Case Closed."

His eyes skimmed the article, confirming that David had been named the killer by a detective called Victor Langly.

Johan clicked his tongue. "Unbelievable. Taking all the credit himself. Weren’t they partners?"