The rain had stopped sometime after midnight.
North Yorkshire had fallen unusually quiet.
Adeline stood beside the window of her temporary room, watching droplets slide slowly down the glass. The street below was almost empty, save for the occasional car passing through the wet road.
She couldn't sleep.
Not because she had discovered anything new.
If anything, it was the opposite.
There were too many unanswered questions.
The priest's murder.
Davies's disappearance.
Jarvis's sudden insistence on staying close to her.
And the strange feeling that seemed to follow her everywhere.
She didn't know what any of it meant.
But she knew something was wrong.
She turned away from the window and looked at her phone.
No messages.
She picked it up anyway.
Davies's name was still there.
She hadn't spoken to him properly in days.
Every conversation with him seemed to end before it began.
Every answer created another question.
She hesitated before pressing his number.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then he answered.
Neither spoke.
Adeline swallowed.
"Where are you?"
A pause.
"Why are you calling?"
His voice was low.
Tired.
She frowned.
"Because I wanted to talk to you."
"You shouldn't."
"Why?"
"I just don't think it's a good idea."
Her irritation rose.
"Everything with you is suddenly a bad idea."
Davies sighed.
"Adeline—"
"No. Don't."
She moved away from the window.
"You disappear. Then you send Jarvis to keep an eye on me. You won't tell me where you are, and whenever I ask what's happening, you give me half an answer."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?"
Silence.
Adeline waited.
Nothing.
"Exactly."
"I don't know what's going to happen."
His answer caught her off guard.
She softened slightly.
"You don't?"
"No."
There was something in his voice she couldn't place.
Fear, perhaps.
Or exhaustion.
"Then what do you know?"
"Not enough."
Adeline sat on the edge of the bed.
"That's not very reassuring."
"I know."
She looked down at her hands.
"Do you think the killer is after me?"
Davies didn't answer immediately.
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because people around me keep dying."
"That doesn't mean you're next."
"You didn't answer."
"I don't know."
Adeline frowned.
For once, he sounded honest.
And somehow, that frightened her more.
"I don't understand you anymore."
"I know."
"Then help me understand."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
Davies was silent.
Adeline closed her eyes.
"Davies."
"I don't want you involved in this."
"I'm already involved."
"I know."
"And you're involved too."
Another silence.
She could hear his breathing.
"Where are you?" she asked again.
"I can't tell you."
"Are you in North Yorkshire?"
Nothing.
"Davies?"
"I'm not telling you where I am."
She laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it.
"Of course."
"Adeline—"
"Do you trust me?"
The question caught him off guard.
"What?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then why won't you tell me anything?"
"Because trusting you doesn't mean I trust what will happen if you know."
Adeline stared at the wall.
She didn't understand what he meant.
And she was beginning to suspect he didn't understand it either.
"You're scared."
Davies didn't respond.
"Are you?"
A long silence followed.
Then he said,
"Yes."
Her heart tightened.
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
That answer unsettled her.
For the first time, Davies didn't sound like a man who had a plan.
He sounded like a man trying desperately to stay ahead of something he couldn't see.
Adeline's voice softened.
"Then come back."
Davies breathed out slowly.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because things are complicated."
"They've been complicated for weeks."
"I know."
"And you're making them worse."
"I know."
She shook her head.
"You know everything."
A faint, humorless laugh escaped him.
"No. I just know I'm making mistakes."
Adeline went quiet.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then Davies said softly,
"I miss you."
She froze.
The words were unexpected.
She didn't know what to say.
"Davies…"
"I shouldn't have said that."
"No."
He swallowed.
"I shouldn't have called."
"You didn't call."
"I know."
For a brief moment, neither of them understood what they were doing.
They were angry.
They were frightened.
They were avoiding questions neither was ready to answer.
And beneath all of it was something neither wanted to acknowledge.
"Are you safe?" Adeline finally asked.
"I'm trying to be."
"And Jarvis?"
"He's with you for a reason."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I can give."
She sighed.
"You're impossible."
"I know."
Then, after another long silence, Davies whispered,
"I love you."
Adeline stopped breathing.
Neither of them moved.
Neither spoke.
Davies seemed to realize what he had just admitted.
"Forget I said that."
The line went dead.
Adeline stared at the phone.
She called back.
It was switched off.
She lowered the phone slowly.
She wasn't sure what hurt more.
What he had said.
Or the fact that she still didn't understand why he was hiding.
Across town, Jarvis stood beneath the awning of an abandoned building.
His eyes remained fixed on Adeline's guesthouse.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Davies.
Stay with her. Don't let her out of your sight.
Jarvis stared at it.
His jaw tightened.
He typed:
You should come back.
He looked at the message.
Then deleted it.
He tried again.
She needs you.
Deleted.
Finally, he locked the phone.
Because the truth was becoming harder to ignore.
He didn't want Davies to come back.
Not anymore.
Jarvis had spent weeks telling himself that protecting Adeline was enough.
That keeping her alive was enough.
That standing beside her while another man remained hidden somewhere in the darkness was something he could tolerate.
But he couldn't.
Not anymore.
He wanted her.
The realization frightened him.
Because Adeline didn't belong to him.
And perhaps she never would.
Still, every time she looked at him with trust, something inside him twisted.
He wanted to be the person she called when she was afraid.
He wanted to be the person she searched for in a crowded room.
He wanted to be the person she chose.
Jarvis closed his eyes.
"Damn it."
A movement caught his attention.
Across the road.
A shadow.
Someone was standing beside a parked car.
Jarvis immediately straightened.
The figure remained still.
Watching.
Jarvis took one step forward.
The figure disappeared behind the vehicle.
He reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
Something about the movement felt deliberate.
Like bait.
He didn't chase.
Instead, he watched.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Twenty.
Then the car started.
It drove away without its headlights.
Jarvis's expression darkened.
Someone had been watching them.
But he couldn't tell who.
Detective Hawthorne sat alone in his office.
The photographs were spread across the desk.
Three deaths.
Three different scenes.
Three different methods.
Three sets of questions.
Hawthorne picked up the priest's photograph.
He studied the wound.
Then placed it beside the first victim.
Different.
He moved to the second.
Different again.
He leaned back.
"What are you trying to prove?"
A knock sounded.
Malcolm Carrington entered.
Hawthorne looked up.
"You should be asleep."
"I could say the same about you."
Malcolm shut the door behind him.
His eyes went to the photographs.
"I've been thinking."
"That's dangerous."
Malcolm ignored the joke.
"Adeline."
Hawthorne's expression changed.
"What about her?"
"Something doesn't sit right."
"That's not unusual around a murder investigation."
"I'm serious."
Hawthorne leaned back.
"What have you noticed?"
Malcolm walked closer to the desk.
"I don't know yet."
"Then what exactly are you telling me?"
"That I don't trust what I'm seeing."
Hawthorne studied him.
"About Adeline?"
Malcolm hesitated.
"Not exactly."
"Davies?"
Another hesitation.
"Maybe."
"Jarvis?"
Malcolm looked at him.
"I don't know."
Hawthorne frowned.
"You're making a lot of accusations for someone who says he doesn't know."
"I'm not accusing anyone."
"Then?"
"I'm watching."
That answer made Hawthorne pause.
Malcolm pointed toward the photograph.
"Every time something happens, people seem to move before we understand why."
Hawthorne said nothing.
"Jarvis is always close to Adeline."
"He's protecting her."
"Maybe."
"And Davies?"
Malcolm shook his head.
"That's what bothers me."
"What?"
"We barely see him anymore."
"That could mean he's hiding."
"Exactly."
Hawthorne looked at him.
"Why?"
Malcolm didn't answer.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Hawthorne picked up the priest's photograph.
"Be careful, Malcolm."
"Why?"
"Because suspicion can make innocent people look guilty."
Malcolm nodded.
"I know."
He looked at the photographs again.
"But sometimes suspicion is the only thing that tells you where to look."
Three counties away, a man sat inside a dark room.
The only light came from a small desk lamp.
Photographs covered the wall.
Seven faces.
Some had red circles around them.
Some had lines through them.
Five remained untouched.
For now.
The man slowly moved one photograph from the table.
Adeline.
He studied her face.
Then placed it beside a photograph of Davies.
His fingers lingered there.
He smiled faintly.
His phone vibrated.
A message.
She called him.
He typed:
And?
The reply came.
They spoke for several minutes.
The man stared at the message.
Then smiled.
He didn't need to know everything they had said.
Not yet.
He simply needed to know that Davies was becoming emotional.
Emotional people made mistakes.
His eyes moved toward another photograph.
Jarvis.
The smile disappeared.
"You are becoming a problem."
He touched Jarvis's photograph.
Then moved to Malcolm's.
Malcolm had begun asking questions.
That was interesting.
The killer studied his photograph for a moment.
Then whispered,
"Let's see how curious you really are."
At four seventeen in the morning, Adeline finally left her room.
She needed air.
She stepped into the corridor.
Nothing.
She walked downstairs.
The reception area was empty.
Then she noticed something.
A small envelope on the floor.
Her name was written across it.
ADELINE BROWN
Her heart began pounding.
She didn't touch it.
She stepped backward.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She stared at it.
The phone continued ringing.
Finally, she answered.
"Hello?"
No voice.
Only breathing.
Slow.
Controlled.
Then a whisper.
"Did you miss me?"
Adeline's blood ran cold.
The line went dead.
She immediately called Jarvis.
He answered on the first ring.
"Where are you?"
"Downstairs."
"What happened?"
"Someone left an envelope."
Jarvis's voice changed instantly.
"Don't touch it."
"I haven't."
"Stay where you are."
"Jarvis—"
"I said stay there."
He was already moving.
Adeline heard footsteps through the phone.
Fast.
Urgent.
She looked at the envelope again.
Something was written beneath her name.
Four words.
THE TRUTH HAS TEETH.
Adeline's stomach turned.
Then she heard something behind her.
A floorboard creaked.
She turned.
Nothing.
"Jarvis?"
"I'm coming."
She stepped backward.
The lights suddenly went out.
Adeline gasped.
Darkness swallowed the entire building.
Then something hit the floor upstairs.
A loud crash.
Jarvis shouted through the phone.
"Adeline, get outside!"
She ran.
Behind her, another sound echoed through the darkness.
A slow knock.
Three times.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Adeline reached the door.
Before she could open it, something moved in the darkness.
She screamed.
Then Jarvis appeared.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
"Come on!"
He dragged her through the doorway just as something crashed behind them.
They ran into the cold night.
Jarvis turned back once.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
He looked at Adeline.
She was shaking violently.
"You're okay," he whispered.
But neither of them believed him.
Far behind them, inside the guesthouse, the envelope remained on the floor.
Untouched.
Waiting.