They entered Jenny's room, a space that seemed frozen in time, as though it had been abandoned the moment she left it. A faint trace of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the unsettling stillness that made the room feel disturbing, a stark contrast to the life that had once filled it.
In one corner, a small bed was neatly made, covered with a worn, floral-patterned sheet, as if waiting for her return. The pillows were carefully arranged, adding to the sense that she had just been there.
Across from the bed stood a dusty, wooden dresser, its surface cluttered with trinkets and faded photographs that hinted at the girl she once was.
A few posters of pop stars and bands still clung to the walls. On the opposite wall, a small dressing mirror, cracked in one corner, reflected the dim light that struggled to penetrate the heavy curtains drawn tightly over the window.
"Look around for anything you can find," Jane said, breaking the heavy silence in the room.
Mark glanced at her, noticing the tension on her features. "Someone's serious," he teased lightly, trying to ease the tension.
Jane shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Stop messing around," she replied, though her tone lacked any real heat.
For over thirty minutes, they searched frantically, turning the small space upside down in their quest for clues, but they found nothing.
"There's nothing here," Jane grunted in frustration, dropping a stack of books in anger. A cloud of dust puffed out from the pages, and she waved it away from her nose.
"Relax, let's keep looking," Mark reassured her, though he felt the same frustration gnawing at him. He moved over to the dresser, rifling through the photographs that cluttered the surface.
He paused, holding up a picture of Jenny in a bikini, her smile bright and carefree. "She looks so different from the other day," he said quietly, comparing it to the crime scene image burned into his mind. "She was beautiful."
Jane nodded, exhaustion weighing on her. "Let's go," she said, ready to give up.
"Wait," Mark said suddenly, grabbing her arm and pulling her over to the mirror. He stood behind her, studying her reflection.
"You have stress written all over your face," he said gently. "I know this case is intense, and you had a connection with Jenny, but you need to promise me that when we leave here, you'll get some rest."
"I promise," Jane said with a laugh, raising her hand in a mock pledge.
Mark always had a way of lightening the mood, and they both laughed together in front of the mirror.
But Jane's laughter faded abruptly. "What?" Mark asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.
"There," she said, pointing to the edge of the mirror.
"Where?" Mark asked, squinting as he tried to see what she had noticed.
"There," she repeated, moving closer to the mirror. She shifted it slightly to the side, and a small book tumbled out from behind it. As it fell open, a large strand of black wolf guard hair slipped out from between the pages.
Jane stared at the long strand in disbelief, picking it up with trembling fingers. She had never seen anything like it. She looked at Mark, who was equally stunned.
The rumors about werewolves—could they be true? Even after seeing Jenny's body, this piece of evidence was almost too much to comprehend. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
*****
Business was unusually slow today. On most Fridays, the coffee shop would be buzzing with hot gossip and the clinking of cups, but today it sat in an almost eerie quiet, with only a few customers scattered around, speaking in hushed tones. Jane had managed to get out of work early, slipping out at the 11 a.m. lunch break to avoid the mounting pressure at the office.
A vibration from her phone snapped her out of the thoughts that had been circling her mind. Jenny's room, frozen in time, and the disturbing memories it conjured. She glanced at her phone.
A message from Mark blinked on the screen: Where are you?! She sighed and turned it off, not in the mood for another interrogation.
"Is something bothering you, Bobu?" Her mother's gentle voice broke through her thoughts. She knew the answer already.
"It's work," Jane replied with a weary sigh. "It's nothing, really."
Her mother gave her a knowing look. "I know it's not 'nothing'. I see what this case is doing to you. I'm not even sure you're chasing this for work anymore, you're going too deep."
"Jenny was a friend," Jane said, her voice quieter, almost defensive.
"I know," her mother nodded solemnly. "It haunts me, too. After her mum passed, Jenny spent so much time trying to run the farm... May her soul rest in peace." She trailed off, just as the doorbell jingled, signaling a new customer.
"Better go take care of that," her mother whispered with a teasing smile, nodding toward the man who had just walked in.
Jane forced a smile, pushing aside her thoughts as she straightened her apron and headed over to the counter.
"Coffee, black—"
"—No sugar," Jane added with a faint smile, hoping he didn't notice as she jotted something down in her notepad. When she looked up, she found herself staring into his mesmerizing eyes, their intensity catching her off guard.
"Thank you," he said, his voice snapping her out of the brief trance. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he moved to his usual spot by the window. The afternoon sun streamed in, casting a warm glow on his skin, making it glisten.
After a few minutes of careful brewing, Jane brought the coffee to his table, drawing his attention away from the book he had buried himself in.
"Castle of Pawns by Charlie Leather," she read aloud, glancing at the cover. "Good read," she added with a nod, trying to break the ice.
He looked up, sipping his coffee. "I wouldn't call it that. His other series are more intense. I just started this one, but I'm already losing interest," he replied, setting the cup down.
"What chapter are you on?" she asked, almost sitting down, but hesitated. "Sorry, may I?" She gestured toward the chair across from him.
"Sure," he smiled, revealing the faint dimples on his cheeks.
"I'm Jane. Jane Sutcliffe," she said, extending her hand for a handshake as she sat down. "Forgive my manners."
"Darvin," he responded, taking her hand with a firm, yet gentle grip. His voice was deep, and his gaze remained intense.
"Book fan, I see?"
"Not really," she admitted with a slight shrug. "I work with the newspaper, so I get tired of text sometimes. But occasionally, a good book helps relieve the stress of a hectic day, you know?"
"I get that," Darvin nodded, his eyes still fixed on her, listening intently as she went on about her work and the grind of deadlines. There was something about his quiet attention that made her feel both nervous and intrigued.
The walk to Ethan's mechanic shop seemed shorter than usual, but Jane's mind had been elsewhere. She'd replayed her conversation with Darvin countless times, even though it had mostly been her doing the talking.
Something else troubled her, his abrupt departure. She sensed a shift in the air before he left, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe she'd gone too far when she joked about how embarrassing she could get when drunk.
"Unless you're looking to buy flowers, you're standing in front of the wrong shop." Ethan's teasing voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was in his usual overalls, carrying a tool bag with a smear of oil on his forehead, likely from wiping away sweat.
"Maybe I wanted to get you flowers," she chuckled, taking a few backward steps to his shop.
"Yeah, right," he laughed, shaking his head in playful disbelief.
"Come in," he invited with a wave of his hand, placing the bag on the table. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I'm not staying long," she explained, taking a few steps inside. "Just here to grab the car."
"Okay," he replied, rummaging through a shelf. Then, pausing, he glanced over at her. "You never told me why you ended things that day."
"I don't want to have this conversation, Ethan," she said, rubbing the back of her neck, her eyes dropping to avoid his penetrating gaze.
"Here's your key," he said softly, holding it out, though his voice carried an edge of sadness.
"Great, toss it over," she replied, forcing a smile.
Instead of throwing it, Ethan moved closer. She instinctively stepped back, but he reached for her, pulling her in and kissing her deeply. For a brief moment, she didn't resist, her body betraying her but then she pulled away, breathless.
"Ethan—" Her voice trembled, unsure.
Suddenly, footsteps interrupted them. They both turned to see a group of police officers approaching, including Detective Boldeye.
"Ethan Walker," one of the officers announced, flashing his badge. "We have a warrant for your arrest. You're a suspect in the murder of Jenny Kettles."
"What the hell!" Jane exclaimed, shocked. "That's ridiculous!"
"Mrs. Sutcliffe," Boldeye warned, his voice cold. "Unless you want to join him behind bars, I'd suggest you don't interfere."
"You have the right to an attorney," another officer added as two of them cuffed Ethan's hands behind his back.
"Ethan, say something!" Jane pleaded, her voice shaking.
Ethan remained calm, even in the face of his arrest. "Relax, Bobu," he said softly, using her mom's nickname.
"Everything's going to be fine." He glanced back at her, his eyes steady. "Lock up the shop for me, okay? Give the key to your mom."
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, they escorted Ethan into the police van and drove away, leaving Jane standing in stunned silence.
The kiss still lingered on her lips, but now her mind raced with questions she had no answers to.