Monday morning arrived with a blanket of grey clouds hanging over London.
The Davies estate was unusually peaceful.
Dwayne sat quietly in the dining room, pretending to read the business section of the newspaper. In truth, he hadn't made it past the first page.
Every few moments, his thoughts drifted back to Jonathan Brown.
To the clipping.
To the guilt he had spent ten years trying to bury.
Across the table, Adeline buttered a slice of toast while scrolling through the morning headlines on her tablet.
"You know," she said without looking up, "I still can't stop thinking about Uncle Jonathan."
Dwayne's fingers tightened around the newspaper.
"I suppose memories have a way of finding us."
She nodded.
"I keep wondering if he ever realized how many lives he changed."
"He made me want to become a journalist."
She smiled faintly.
"He always said the truth mattered, even when it hurt."
Dwayne lowered his eyes.
If only Jonathan had known how true those words would become.
Just then, the television mounted on the wall interrupted the breakfast programme.
"Breaking News."
The cheerful music disappeared.
The screen changed to the image of police vehicles surrounding an old warehouse in North Yorkshire.
Adeline instinctively reached for the remote and turned up the volume.
The news presenter spoke calmly.
"North Yorkshire Police have confirmed the discovery of a second murder believed to be linked to last week's unexplained killing. Detectives say similarities between both crime scenes suggest they may be hunting a serial offender."
Dwayne's heartbeat quickened.
The screen switched to a press conference.
A tall man in a charcoal overcoat stepped before the microphones.
His posture was composed.
His voice carried quiet authority.
A caption appeared beneath him.
Detective Inspector Blackwood Hawthorne
North Yorkshire Major Crime Unit
"We understand the public's concerns," Blackwood said.
"At this stage, we believe these crimes are connected. However, we urge the public to avoid speculation while our investigation continues."
"We are pursuing every available lead."
The camera flashed briefly to the evidence recovered from the scene.
Among the sealed bags…
A cream-coloured envelope.
Adeline frowned.
"That's odd."
"What is?" Rose asked as she entered the dining room.
"The envelope."
"The reporter said they found one at both crime scenes."
Rose glanced toward the television.
"So whoever did this wants the police to find them."
"No," Adeline replied thoughtfully.
"I think they want someone specific to find them."
Dwayne looked at her.
For one terrifying second…
He thought she knew.
Instead, she simply shook her head.
"It's probably just a theory."
The news moved on.
But the silence around the breakfast table remained.
Later that afternoon…
Rain began to fall again.
Jarvis found Dwayne standing beneath the covered terrace, watching the drops strike the garden paths.
"You've hardly spoken all day."
"I'm just tired."
"You've said that a lot recently."
Dwayne gave a faint smile.
"I'll be alright."
Jarvis wasn't convinced.
He had known his brother his entire life.
He knew the difference between exhaustion…
And fear.
Still, he chose not to push.
Instead, he changed the subject.
"Adeline seems happy."
A genuine smile crossed Dwayne's face.
"She is."
"She's good for you."
"I know."
Jarvis looked toward the house, where Adeline and Rose were laughing over old family photographs.
"I hope she always has a reason to smile."
Dwayne followed his gaze.
"So do I."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
That evening…
As Adeline prepared for bed, her phone buzzed with a message from Emma, one of her colleagues at The London Chronicle.
Have you seen the Yorkshire case?
The newsroom is going mad over it.
Richard's calling an editorial meeting tomorrow morning.
Adeline smiled to herself.
She had only been back from her wedding for a few days.
Already, another major story was unfolding.
She had no idea that by this time tomorrow…
That story would become part of her own life.
Downstairs, Dwayne stood alone in the darkness of his study.
The television replayed Detective Inspector Blackwood Hawthorne's press conference.
He switched it off.
The room fell silent.
Then, almost involuntarily, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Inside lay a faded university photograph.
Seven students.
One smiling young law student standing among them.
Jonathan Brown.
Dwayne traced the edge of the photograph with unsteady fingers.
His voice broke into the silence.
"Who's next?"
Outside, thunder rolled across the London sky.