[AN - Greetings, everyone. I'd like to point out that I'm a newbie and definitely not a writing genius. I'm still learning, so if I find that all the dialogue seems labored or robotic, I apologize. I'll strive to improve, and thank you again for your support; it means a lot to me.]
The morning in Chicago greeted John with its familiar gloom. It was early December — a gray, heavy month when the city seemed to freeze under the weight of low clouds. The overcast light barely seeped through the thick layer of clouds enveloping the skyscrapers. It felt as if one could reach out and touch that heavy dullness hanging almost over the roofs of the cars.
John was driving toward the university, gliding through the sluggish flow of morning traffic. The windshield was slightly fogged by his breath, and cold air seeped into the cabin each time he turned on the ventilation. Today he had several lectures he was required to attend. John was one of the best — if not the best — in his year. He managed to combine his studies with his "primary activity" as if it were just a simple timing game.
When he parked the car, he was immediately met by a stream of students rushing to their classes. Voices blended into a humming background, footsteps echoed sharply across stone tiles, and the smell of hot coffee carried in paper cups filled the air. John calmly moved through the corridor between the hurrying students, until a familiar voice called out:
"Hey, John. Hi."
He turned around. In front of him stood Mia — a girl about five foot six, with long, smooth black hair cascading over her back. Her almond-shaped hazel-green eyes were outlined with dark eyeliner. John recognized her instantly. One of the few he could tolerate within these university walls and even considered a friend.
Most students here had an ego the size of the entire campus, and John preferred to stay away from such people. Mia was different — a year below him, calm, lively, sincere. Their friendship began after he helped her once when she injured her leg. Mia practiced ballet, which was obvious from her light, graceful, almost dancing movements. Passing guys threw quick, not-so-subtle glances at her, barely hiding their interest.
"Hi, Mia," John greeted. "Just came from ballet?"
"Yes. It was hard," she sighed. "I'm really tired… and I broke my nail again."
She rolled her eyes, though a smile still slipped through.Mia had met John a few months earlier and considered him one of her closest friends. Unlike most guys, he didn't look at her as an object. He was calm, mature, kind — and undeniably handsome. With him, she felt safe.
But the thought of Liam — her mother's boyfriend — suddenly darkened her expression. For a split second her gaze dimmed, as if a shadow passed over a beam of sunlight. She pushed the thought away immediately and smiled at John again.
"John, let's walk together?"
"Yes, of course. Let's go."
They headed for the main entrance.
"And when will you be free today?" Mia asked, looking straight into his eyes.
John thought for a moment.
"I think in a couple of hours. No long lectures today, and it's a light day overall. Plans?"
"Let's grab something to eat? My treat. You owe me, remember?" Mia said with a playful look.
"I don't mind. Text me after class. I'll be waiting by the fountain," John replied and headed toward the lecture hall.
"Oh, by the way, John. Professor Lewis asked you to stop by after your lectures. Bye!"
When the classes ended, the first thing John did was send her a message:
"Mia, I'm done with my lectures. After meeting with the professor I'll be by the fountain."
He went up to the second floor in search of the right office. On the door hung a plaque: "Professor Lewis Carroll."After knocking and hearing "Come in," John entered.
The professor's office looked as if it belonged to another era. The walls were covered with dark brown wooden panels, creating a sense of warmth and strict academic atmosphere. Soft sunlight filtered through a decorative window, scattering into golden patches across the floor. In the center stood a massive desk with a leather writing surface and carved decorations. On it — neat stacks of papers, several books, an ink pen, and an old brass lamp.
The first thing John noticed was the professor sitting at the desk. His eyes glimmered slightly when he saw his best student.
"Oh, John! Is that you? How was the lecture on mathematical analysis?"
"Great, thank you, professor."
Only then did John notice the woman sitting across from him. She was middle-aged, with a short bob haircut curled inward. Her hair was a mix of light blonde shades and elegant gray. Her expression was calm, her gaze attentive. Her posture was straight and confident.
The professor caught John's glance and said:
"John, this is Detective Lindsey."
She turned fully toward him.
"Hello, John. The professor has told me a lot about you," she said evenly. "He claims you are one of the best students he has ever taught. A genius in mechanics and engineering."
For a brief second, John's eyes lit up with a faint hint of recognition… but immediately grew colder.
"Hello, Detective Lindsey. The professor exaggerates. Standing next to him, I wouldn't dare call myself a genius."
Lewis nodded proudly.
"John, I asked you to come because the detective has questions regarding a case involving mechanical devices. Confidential, of course. Can you help? My lecture starts soon."
"Of course, professor. I'll help however I can."
"Excellent. I'll leave you two. My office is at your disposal," he said and headed for the door.Already stepping out, he added: "And detective, please don't keep John too long. He's graduating soon."
"I promise, professor," Lindsey replied.
The professor winked at John and closed the door.
Only the two of them remained.For a moment, silence hung in the room — dense, like library air. The detective stood up, took a folder from the desk, and handed it to him.
"John, I'm working on a case where mechanical devices are involved. Could you evaluate what you see? I need to understand who could create something like this."
Something flickered across John's face — interest… or memory.He took the folder, opened it — and saw a photograph of his first creation.The mechanism he had tested on Peter Holt.
For a moment, everything around him seemed to slow.He stared at the picture slightly longer than necessary. Then his distant, closed expression returned.
"A very interesting idea," he began evenly. "Looks like an American football helmet. I'd say the creator was inspired by that. It works like a trap… but in reverse. It doesn't clamp — it expands. I'd call it a 'reverse bear trap.'"
He continued without haste:
"Such a device could be made by a mechanical engineer, a designer. Anyone who works with metal — locksmiths, craftsmen, technicians. Or… someone with military experience. They often know how to build traps worse than factory-made ones. Even self-taught people can assemble something like this if they have enough skill."
Lindsey listened attentively, slightly narrowing her eyes.She seemed to compare his words with something in her mind.
"Thank you, John. This clarifies a lot. The professor didn't exaggerate — you do have talent."
She closed the folder.
"I won't keep you any longer. But if I have more questions… may I reach out to you again?"
John knew this type of person. Their intuition clung to the smallest details.He thought of Harry. He had to answer carefully and limit future meetings.
"You know, detective… I'd be glad to. I'm just graduating soon, and time is scarce. But if I can — I'll help."
Lindsey tilted her head slightly, accepting that answer.
"I won't ask for more. Thank you, John."
When they left the office, the hallway greeted them with quietness, broken only by distant echoes of students' footsteps on the lower floors. After walking to the university entrance and saying goodbye, they split in different directions.
Lindsey — to the right.John — to the left.
Two paths diverging just a few steps apart…and neither yet aware how soon they would cross again — not as student and detective, but as hunter and predator.