The rain fell steadily against the windows of the Ashwood Police Department, its rhythmic drumming filling the quiet space as Lucas sifted through yet another stack of files. He was no stranger to the monotony of research, but tonight felt differentâcharged with an unease that he couldn't shake.
The discovery of Michael Ward's body had turned everything on its head, and with each passing day, Lucas felt like he was running out of time. The killer's methods, the symbolism, and the connection to Ashwood's history all pointed to a carefully orchestrated plan. But what nagged at him most wasn't the killer.
It was Emma.
She had been the one to find Michael, and while Lucas wanted to believe it was a tragic coincidence, something about her reaction that day didn't sit right with him. The fear in her eyes had felt genuine, but there had been something elseâa flicker of recognition that Lucas couldn't place.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as fragments of their conversations floated to the surface. Emma's laughter at her bakery. The way she avoided eye contact when asked about her childhood. Her insistence that her parents had died in a car crash when she was six.
It all seemed so ordinary. Too ordinary.
Lucas's curiosity had driven him to dig into public records earlier that day, pulling up documents on Emma's family. He hadn't been looking for anything specific, just a way to understand her better. But what he found left him cold.
There was no record of a car accident involving her parents.
He double-checked the dates she had mentioned, combed through old police reports, and even looked into nearby towns in case the accident hadn't been recorded locally. But there was nothing. It was as if her parents had simply vanished from existence.
Lucas stared at the screen, his chest tightening. Why would she lie about something like that? And if her parents hadn't died in a car accident, what had really happened to them?
The next morning, Lucas found himself at Emma's bakery, the warm scent of freshly baked bread doing little to calm his nerves. Emma stood behind the counter, her usual cheerful demeanor intact as she greeted him.
"Lucas! You're up early," she said with a smile. "Coffee?"
"Sure," he said, forcing a smile of his own.
As she turned to pour his coffee, Lucas studied her. She looked as she always didâkind, approachable, and unassuming. But now, every detail felt suspicious. The way her hands trembled slightly as she handled the coffee pot. The way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You okay?" Emma asked, placing the cup in front of him.
"Yeah," Lucas said. "Just a lot on my mind."
She nodded, her expression softening. "I get it. This town... it's heavy sometimes."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "Emma, can I ask you something?"
"Of course," she said, though her body tensed almost imperceptibly.
"You told me your parents died in a car accident when you were six. Do you remember where it happened?"
Emma froze for just a momentâso brief that anyone else might have missed it. But Lucas didn't.
"Why are you asking about that?" she said, her tone carefully neutral.
"Just curious," Lucas said, keeping his voice light. "I've been trying to understand the people here better. The connections. The history."
Emma's gaze dropped to the counter, her hands fiddling with the edge of a napkin. "It was a long time ago, Lucas. I don't really like talking about it."
"I get that," he said. "But I couldn't find any record of the accident."
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with something between fear and anger. "You've been looking into my parents?"
Lucas held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Emma. I just... something doesn't add up. If there's something you're not telling me, I need to know."
Emma's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Lucas thought she might kick him out. But then she sighed, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world had just landed on them.
"It wasn't a car accident," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas's heart skipped a beat.
"My parents... they were murdered."
The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, and Lucas felt his breath catch in his throat.
"I was six," Emma continued, her voice trembling. "We were living in a small house on the outskirts of town. My dad worked late that night, and my mom was putting me to bed. I remember hearing a noise downstairsâa crash, like someone breaking in."
Emma paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Lucas stayed silent, giving her the space to continue.
"My mom told me to hide under the bed. She said everything would be okay, but I could see it in her eyesâshe was terrified. I did what she said. I crawled under the bed and covered my ears."
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.
"I heard them arguing. My dad shouting. My mom screaming. And then... nothing."
Emma's voice broke on the last word, and she took a shaky breath before continuing.
"When I came out, they were gone. Both of them. The police said it looked like a robbery gone wrong, but... I don't think it was."
Lucas frowned. "Why not?"
"Because nothing was taken," Emma said bitterly. "No money, no jewelry, nothing. And my grandmother... she never talked about it. She just packed me up and moved me into her house like it never happened."
Lucas felt a chill run down his spine as he processed Emma's story. Her parents' deaths had been brutal, senseless, and left unresolved. And now, years later, a killer was terrorizing the town with a similar level of violence and precision.
"Emma," Lucas said carefully, "do you think what happened to your parents could be connected to the murders?"
Emma shook her head, her expression one of despair. "I don't know. I've tried to forget about it for so long, but... sometimes I feel like it's all still here, you know? Like the town hasn't let it go."
Lucas nodded slowly, his mind racing. He couldn't ignore the possibility that Emma's past was tied to the killer's motives. The sites of the murders, the victims' profiles, even the symbol carved into their skinâit all felt like pieces of a puzzle he hadn't yet figured out.
As Lucas left the bakery, his thoughts were a whirlwind of suspicion and empathy. Emma's story had been raw and painful, and he could see the scars it had left on her. But it also raised more questions than it answered.
Why had her grandmother been so quick to sweep everything under the rug? Why had Emma lied about the car accident? And most importantly, could her parents' murders hold the key to stopping the killer?
Lucas didn't know the answers yet, but one thing was certain: Emma wasn't just another bystander in this case.
She was a part of it.