I glance at the clock on my nightstand—for the third time in a row. It’s almost midnight. I’m lying in bed, half-asleep, lost in thought. Jack, a black German Shepherd with a brown patch over his right eye—my companion for the past five years—dozes at my feet, breathing heavily. The city is unusually quiet tonight, the moon brushing the streets with its pale light.
The phone rings, slicing through the calm—and through my thoughts.
I push myself out of bed, give Jack a quick pat on the head, and walk barefoot into the living room. I pick up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Detective Calloway? It’s Elizabeth… Elizabeth Holt…” Her voice is tense, tinged with embarrassment. “I’m sorry for calling so late… I… I’m a bit worried about my brother. He should’ve been home hours ago, but he’s still not here. He usually gets back around nine, even when he stays late—but never this late…” I can hear the genuine concern in her voice.
“Well, maybe he stopped for a drink with some colleagues… or had to stay longer at work.”
“No, he doesn’t usually drink, and he doesn’t stay out with coworkers… I tried calling him earlier, around nine-thirty, but he didn’t answer. He’s very much a creature of habit—he’s always in bed by ten-thirty sharp. The only thing I can think of is that he might’ve met up with Emma, his girlfriend, but even that doesn’t explain why he’s not home yet… And he would’ve told me.”
There’s a brief pause as I think it over, then I reply, “I see… Well, for now we’re only talking about a few hours’ delay. It’s not something I can act on just yet, unfortunately. But if he doesn’t turn up by tomorrow, I’ll look into it personally. In the meantime, try not to worry. He might already be on his way home.”
“Alright… I think I’ll make myself some tea, try to calm down…”
“I’m sure everything will be fine. When he gets back, give me a call. For now, good night, Miss Holt.”
“Of course… Good night, Mr. Calloway.”
I hang up, reflecting on the conversation.
So Jasper hasn’t come home yet.
Based on what Elizabeth told me, I can’t help but wonder if something really did happen to him. I head to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and pour myself a glass to ease the dryness in my mouth. A few minutes later, the phone rings again.
“Detective Calloway? Sorry to bother you at this hour, but we received a report from a resident about strange noises in an apartment building—13 Elmwood Drive. We need you to get there as soon as possible to assist with the investigation.”
“Right…” I rub my tired face. “I’ll get dressed and be there as soon as I can.”
“Good. See you shortly.”
“See you.”
I hang up again, then quickly get dressed—pants, shoes, shirt, jacket—and grab my badge, notebook, and keys. Behind me, Jack tilts his head, confused by my sudden departure at this hour.
I hurry down the stairs, step outside, get into my car, and start the engine, heading straight for 13 Elmwood Drive.
Something must have happened. And Jasper Holt… he’s probably involved.
When I arrive, I step inside the apartment and find a young man sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders, surrounded by two officers standing stiff as statues. For a moment, I’d half-expected to find Jasper’s lifeless body somewhere in here.
Three pairs of eyes turn toward me—two alert, one distant. The young man’s.
I approach and show my badge. “Detective Atlas Calloway. You are…?”
“Ezra. Ezra Chavez.”
“Alright, Ezra. I’m sorry to keep you here, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”
He takes a deep breath. “I was at a masquerade party, at the Velarium. This guy came up to me, we started talking… flirting… then I invited him back here. Somewhere quieter. But at some point, he pulled something out of his pocket, and after that… I don’t remember anything. Not until I woke up tied to the kitchen table. He was trying to put something in my mouth—I bit him to defend myself. I struggled free, but I fell. My back and head still hurt…” He slowly rubs his temple. “Then he started strangling me… hard. But something from the other side of the wall must’ve scared him—he panicked and ran. Took the outside stairs.”
As he speaks, I notice he’s missing a tooth—a canine. I write everything down.
“Do you remember what he looked like? Or what he was wearing?”
“He had a mask covering his eyes… wouldn’t take it off. But I remember short black hair. Black tuxedo. Dress shoes. That’s about it.”
“How old would you say he was? Height? Any distinctive features?”
He hesitates, overwhelmed by the questions, then gathers himself.
“Early thirties, maybe a bit older. Pretty tall, but I can’t say exactly. Nothing really stood out… but his voice—calm. Confident. Oh—and he said his name was Rowan. No last name.”
“Rowan, huh…” I jot it down, then rub my chin thoughtfully. “You said you bit him. Hand or arm?”
“His hand. Near the thumb, I think.”
“Good. That helps.” I kneel in front of him, gesturing toward his bruised neck. “Mind if I take a look?”
He nods. As he turns his head, I spot a small puncture mark.
A syringe.
Just like Natalie Jones at the hotel.
One of the officers speaks up. “We already found it—under a couch cushion.”
I nod, then turn back to Ezra. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four, sir.”
“Twenty-four…” I repeat, thinking about the pattern—the killer’s obsession with the number five.
“Alright. That’s enough for now. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”
“I can go to my sister’s. She lives about half an hour from here.”
“Good. The officers will take you. We may need you at the station tomorrow for further questioning.”
The officers escort him out while I continue examining the apartment. The weapon—a syringe—has already been recovered. Now I just need to find whatever he was trying to force into the victim’s mouth.
I search the kitchen thoroughly. Eventually, I find something—wedged beneath a chair leg.
A stamp.
Of course.
This one shows a clock.
On the table, I find the ropes used to tie him up. I bag all the evidence, then head for the door. I raise my arm and check my watch—it’s one in the morning.
It’s been a long night, and I feel the urgent need to rest.
I wonder if Elizabeth’s brother ever made it home.
Either way… I’ll find out tomorrow.
I get back in my car and drive home, with only one thought in my mind—
falling onto my bed.
ns216.73.217.115da2
and then Add to home screen.