Back in Ridgecliff, the city was swathed in overcast skies and heavy clouds. A fine drizzle kissed the windows of the law enforcement headquarters, turning the outside world into a blurred watercolor of gray tones. Inside, the atmosphere wasn't much brighter.
Chief Tyson's office was in disarray—papers scattered, maps marked with pins, and folders splayed open in a chaotic dance of urgency. He hadn't slept properly in two days. Coffee cups piled in a corner like a siege wall, and the electric fan overhead buzzed with a dull rattle, spinning slow from overuse.
Tyson leaned forward on his desk, sleeves rolled up, hands gripping the edges of a worn folder. His eyes were bloodshot but focused. Two cases. Two mountains weighing on his shoulders.
The first: the kidnapping of the English envoy, Lord Trenshaw. A political storm that had already begun circling their department like vultures.
The second: the attack on Assistant Sheriff Robert Kühl.
The world was watching them for the first. But the second… the second was personal.
It wasn't just an officer who'd been assaulted.
It was Robert. Their Robert. One of their own. It was like a family member being ambushed in their own backyard.
Chief Tyson ground his teeth as he reviewed the incident report for the fifth time. No clear assailant. Brutal method. Intent to harm. And nothing stolen— except from some papers.
He was still staring at the blood-smeared photo of the alley when his office door creaked open.
"Not now," he growled.
"It's important," Judith said, stepping inside with urgency.
Tyson's eyes lifted. "Judith. You're supposed to be overseeing the fallout team. What are you doing here?"
Judith didn't flinch. "Sofie sent me. She's found something."
He leaned back slowly, folding his arms. "What kind of 'something'?"
Judith hesitated. "A phone call. From a number recently flagged in the data streams. She suspects it's Brendon's."
That name. That name again.
Tyson's expression darkened. "Why is that bastard's call important now?"
Judith raised a brow. "I'm not sure. But Sofie told me to bring you. Immediately."
Tyson exhaled harshly through his nose, tossed the folder onto the desk, and stood. "Let's go."
Together, they walked briskly through the tiled corridors of Ridgecliff HQ, down into the lower level where the tech division buzzed with the quiet hum of servers and analysis equipment. The lights were softer here, the air cooler. The quiet tension of minds working overtime filled the space.
Sofie was at her desk when they arrived, a headphone over one ear, fingers typing rapidly as the screen in front of her displayed multiple waveform graphs. She looked up the moment Tyson approached.
"Chief," she greeted, pulling the headphone down, "Glad you came."
"Talk fast," Tyson said, folding his arms. "What've you found?"
Sofie gestured to the waveform. "It's a recovered call. From a number registered under a burner SIM, routed through a foreign tower. But the voiceprint? It's Brendon's."
Tyson narrowed his eyes. "You're sure?"
She nodded. "I'd bet my career on it."
She clicked a button, and audio began to play.
---
A soft voice greeted Brendon on the other end. Feminine, calm, almost playful.
"I knew you would find it out."
Brendon's voice followed, low and guarded. "Why risk yourself like this? You know we can track you back via this call, right?"
"But you didn't. Have you?" came the amused response.
"How are you so certain?"
"Because that's what your nature is." Her voice lilted with teasing confidence. "You want to make sure this note is real, don't you? That I'm real. That there's a truth behind these words before you act. You always double-check your facts. That's what makes you different from the rest."
Brendon's breath hitched slightly in the background.
"You're awfully familiar with me for someone I've never met."
"Oh, we've met," she said smoothly. "Maybe face to face too, maybe not in a way you'd remember. But I've seen how you work. I've seen how you hesitate when you need to, how you hold back when others would break. I've been watching you longer than you know."
There was a sharp pause.
"Alright. So what do you want to tell me? This isn't just a social call."
"Still sharp," she chuckled. "You haven't lost your edge. That's good. Because you'll need it soon."
"Enough riddles. What is it?"
Silence.
Then, her tone shifted. It was sharper now. Clearer.
"Don't trust your mayor."
A rustle. Brendon reacting.
"Mayor Guerio?"
"He's hiding something. Something big. Something that ties this entire mess together—Amelia, the cult, the disappearances. He's not clean, Brendon. Not by a long shot."
Brendon spoke next, more urgently.
"If you have proof—"
"I don't. Not in a way I can show. Not yet. But listen to your instincts. That's why I left you the note and not someone else. You've been close to him. Too close. He's always one step ahead of everyone, right?"
Silence.
Then a whisper.
"Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who hasn't been bought yet."
The final part of the call was hushed, almost reverent.
"Brendon," the woman's voice softened, "Please… look into Lagooncrest Isle again. Don't let the trail go cold. You saw what was there. You felt it. I know you did."
"I saw it," he whispered.
"Then you know."
---
Sofie stopped the recording.
The room was still for a moment.
Then Tyson exploded.
"What the hell is this nonsense!?" he bellowed, slamming a fist on the metal table. "How come none of us knew about this side activity? He told us— told us— he was going on vacation!"
Judith kept her tone calm. "And he do came back but left again. Now we know why."
"He's meddling in another jurisdiction!" Tyson barked. "He's sticking his nose in things tied to foreign soil, an envoy's kidnapping case, secret phone calls, and now conspiracy theories about Guerio? Is this a joke?"
"No joke," Sofie said, turning her screen to show call logs and timestamps. "This came from our network trace. The woman didn't use an encrypted app. She used raw cellular. That's gutsy. Or confident. Either way, Brendon didn't report it."
Tyson pinched the bridge of his nose, growling.
Judith looked at Sofie. "You said you traced something else before, right?"
Sofie nodded. "Yeah. Now that I think about it… one day Robert came to me. Asked me to trace a number. Told me it is a friend of Brendon who befriended in Lagooncrest Isle who had gone missing."
Tyson lowered his hand slowly.
"What number?" he asked.
"I don't remember the exact digits, but it led me to a triangulation result." She pulled up a map. "Here. Duckinghum Caves."
Tyson straightened. "Duckinghum... that's in Lagooncrest Isle."
"Yes," Sofie confirmed. "A notorious stretch of coast. Off-limits for years. Rumors of smuggling, old sea myths, a cult back 30 years ago kidnapping children for demonic sacrufice. But more recently—strange frequencies. Someone's been bouncing signals off the cave walls."
Tyson went silent. His fingers brushed across the edge of the table.
"Brendon lied about his vacation," he said at last. "Robert lied about what he was tracking."
Then he looked at Judith.
"It's time we ask Robert what this is all about."