CHAPTER TWO — THE BODY BY THE WATER
The crime scene sat on the edge of the river, where the fog was thick enough to feel like a ghost brushing against Aiden's face. Blue police lights blinked through the mist, casting the whole place in a strange, pulsing glow. Officers moved around quietly, as if afraid to disturb the dead.
Aiden hated crime scenes.
He hated that he could read them too well.
Mara walked ahead of him, her boots crunching on gravel. "Body's behind the storage crates."
"Great," Aiden said. "Nice romantic spot."
"Shut up and keep walking."
They rounded the corner, and Aiden felt his stomach twist.
The victim was a man—mid-thirties, thin, dressed in a suit that had seen better days. He was lying on his back, eyes wide open, staring at a patch of fog as if he'd seen something so terrifying it froze him in place.
But that wasn't the worst part.
Mara pointed. "There."
Aiden crouched beside the body.
On the man's left forearm, written neatly in dark ink:
AIDEN COLE
His pulse jumped. "This is insane."
"Not as insane as this," Mara replied, handing him a folded note sealed inside another evidence bag.
He raised an eyebrow. "He wrote me a letter?"
"Just read it."
Aiden opened the bag, took the note carefully, and unfolded it.
Three words.
Just three.
But they hit like a bullet.
You left her.
Aiden's vision blurred.
A sharp, cold pain stabbed his chest.
No.
Not her.
Not that.
Mara noticed his reaction. "Aiden… who is 'her'?"
He stood up too fast. "Doesn't matter."
"It obviously matters."
Aiden clenched his jaw. "I said it doesn't."
Mara sighed, stepping closer to him. "Listen, I get it—your past isn't pretty. Mine isn't either. But right now, someone is killing people and leaving your name on them. If we don't figure out why, you're either the next target… or the next suspect."
Aiden rubbed his face, trying to force the panic down.
He hadn't thought about that case in years.
He didn't want to.
But the past always finds a way to crawl out of its grave.
"Who found the body?" he asked.
"A jogger," Mara answered. "She's shaken up, but says she didn't see anyone."
Aiden looked around the scene, scanning everything—the pattern of footprints, the way the body was positioned, the water droplets on the man's shoes, the faint smell of cologne mixed with river mud.
Something was wrong.
"This wasn't where he died," Aiden said.
Mara frowned. "Explain."
"His clothes aren't wet enough. He wasn't thrown in the river. Look at his back—no water marks, no mud. Whoever killed him moved him here. Staged the scene." Aiden pointed at the arm. "And they wrote this after he died. No smudging. Clean ink."
"So the killer wanted this message to be found," Mara said quietly.
Aiden nodded. "And they wanted me to see it."
They stood in silence for a moment. The river whispered behind them, carrying secrets on its surface.
Then Mara's radio crackled.
A voice spoke urgently:
"Detective Voss, we have something."
Mara glanced at Aiden. "Stay close. You're part of this now."
They walked deeper into the shadows where two officers were standing by another crate. One of them held a flashlight, pointing at the wooden surface.
Aiden's blood ran cold.
There, burned into the crate's wood, was the same symbol from the evidence card:
A circle with three broken lines through it.
Mara whispered, "What is that symbol? Aiden… tell me the truth."
Aiden stared at the symbol, every muscle in his body going rigid.
"It means," he said slowly, voice cracking,
"that whoever killed this man… isn't done."
He stepped back.
"And they're coming for me next."