The rain came down hard that night. The city streets were nearly empty, with only the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet asphalt. The sound of sirens shattered the silence as a police car pulled up in front of a luxury hotel.
Alya Laurent stepped out of the car with measured strides. Her coat was slightly wet, but her expression remained serious. As a young detective known for her intelligence and attention to detail, she was used to handling all kinds of cases. But tonight felt different.
An officer approached her, his face tense.
"Detective Alya, the victim is in Room 307."
"Who found him?"
"The hotel attendant. They said the door wasn't locked."
Alya nodded and entered the hotel. Several police officers filled the hallway leading to Room 307. Not a word was spoken. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her decision.
When the room door opened, the smell of blood greeted her at once.
Alya stopped for a moment.
In the middle of the room, a man lay motionless. His white shirt was covered in red stains. A knife lay several steps away from the victim's body.
Alya crouched down without touching anything.
"No one enters until the forensics team is finished."
"Yes, Detective."
Her eyes swept across the entire room. There were no signs of a struggle. The window was closed. The victim's belongings were still neatly arranged. Strangely, an expensive watch sat on the table, but the victim's wallet was gone.
"Check the CCTV," Alya said.
"Already did, Detective. The third-floor cameras were down for twenty minutes."
Alya looked at the officer.
"Twenty minutes?"
"Yes."
A faint smile appeared on her face.
"Then the killer knew exactly what they were doing."
She looked back at the victim's body. Beneath her calm expression, her mind had already begun working.
This wasn't an ordinary murder.
Someone had planned it to perfection.
However, there was one thing Alya hadn't realized.
From the building across from the hotel, a pair of eyes watched her in silence.
A man stood behind a dark window, holding a glass filled with a drink.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So, you're the detective they sent to catch me?"
Alya stood in front of the hotel room window. Her gaze was fixed on the building across the street. Something felt strange. She was certain the killer hadn't left that place without a reason.
"Detective Alya!" a police officer called. "We've found something."
Alya turned around at once. "What?"
The officer handed her an evidence bag. Inside was a small scrap of paper bearing a black circle symbol.
"It was under the victim's bed."
Alya examined it carefully. There was no writing, only a simple symbol that looked like a signature.
"Has this been examined?"
"Not yet. We were waiting for you."
Alya put on gloves before picking up the bag.
"Find out whether the victim ever received any threats."
"Yes."
A few minutes later, an officer returned with a phone.
"The victim's phone is locked, but there's a last message."
Alya read the screen.
I know your secret. Come alone tonight.
Her brows furrowed.
"This message was sent one hour before the victim died."
"The number is unknown."
Alya fell silent. If the victim had come because of the message, then the killer already knew something about him. But why take the victim's wallet while leaving his other valuables behind?
She checked the room again.
Then her eyes stopped on a painting.
"Take that painting down."
The officer looked confused but quickly did as she asked. Behind the painting was a small safe.
Alya stared at it sharply.
"Find the hotel owner. We need to know who had access to this safe."
When the officer left, Alya stepped closer.
The safe was already open.
Inside was only one old photograph.
It showed a young boy standing beside a woman.
A name was written on the back of the photograph.
Adrian Blackwood.
Alya repeated the name in her mind.
The name felt unfamiliar, but for some reason, it made her chest tighten.
Suddenly, the room lights went out.
Everyone was startled.
"Don't move!" Alya shouted.
In the darkness, the sound of something falling echoed through the room.
Then a man's voice whispered from the direction of the window.
"Stop searching, Detective."
The lights came back on.
The window stood wide open.
There was no one there.
Alya ran to the window and looked down. Rain still filled the streets, but a man with a black umbrella was walking away.
She couldn't see his face.
However, before disappearing around the corner, the man stopped for a moment and looked back.
Their eyes met.
For only a few seconds.
But Alya knew one thing.
That man wasn't a witness.
He was the person she'd been searching for all along.