It was late when Alya arrived at her apartment. The meeting in the old building still occupied her thoughts. She knew Adrian was playing games with her, but she couldn't afford to act rashly.
She had barely taken a few steps inside when her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
Don't come to Blackstone Building alone.
Alya frowned.
A second message arrived.
If you want to know who the real killer is, come at midnight.
Alya stared at the screen warily. It was obviously a trap. Yet something about it made her curious.
Suddenly, a knock came from the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Alya took her gun from the drawer and walked toward it slowly.
“Who is it?”
There was no answer.
She opened the door carefully.
The hallway was empty.
Only a black envelope lay on the floor.
Alya picked it up with gloves. Her name was written on the front.
For Detective Alya Laurent.
She opened the envelope.
Inside were a photograph of the hotel victim, a small key, and a slip of paper.
The truth is where it all began. Don't trust the people closest to you.
Alya read the sentence over and over.
“Who am I not supposed to trust?”
Her gaze sharpened.
Someone knew the details of her investigation.
And most likely, that person was very close to her.
Beyond the apartment window, someone's shadow moved quickly.
Alya turned at once.
But there was no one there.
Only the sound of the night wind remained.
She tightened her grip on the small key.
The killer's game was far bigger than she'd imagined.
Alya looked again at the small key in her hand. Its shape was simple, but the letter B engraved on its head convinced her that it was connected to the first case.
She immediately called Ryan.
“Ryan, I found something.”
“What?”
“A key and a message from the killer.”
Ryan fell silent for a moment. “Are you sure you're safe?”
“No. But I know we need to find a place that matches this key.”
Before Ryan could answer, the call suddenly disconnected.
Alya stared at her phone.
The signal was gone.
Then the lights in her apartment went out.
The room fell dark.
Alya took a small flashlight from the table and moved slowly. Her heart pounded when she heard footsteps outside the door.
One step.
Then silence.
Alya stood perfectly still, gripping her gun.
Her phone lit up again.
A message arrived.
I'm closer than you think.
Alya stared at the door.
“Adrian?”
There was no answer.
A few seconds later, the footsteps moved away.
Alya opened the door quickly, but the hallway was already empty.
Another slip of paper lay on the floor.
Don't trust Ryan.
Alya froze.
Ryan was the person who had helped her investigate this case more than anyone else. But the message planted a seed of doubt in her mind.
Could Ryan really be trusted?
Alya placed the paper in an evidence bag.
She wouldn't trust the message right away.
But she wouldn't ignore it, either.
Before closing the door, Alya saw a shadow at the end of the hallway.
Someone was standing there.
The man stared at her for a few seconds before turning and disappearing.
Alya chased after him, but found no one.
All that remained was the scent of masculine cologne and a black card.
The card read:
We'll meet again, Detective. This time, without secrets.
Alya clenched the card tightly.
The killer wasn't merely watching her.
He was testing her courage.
And Alya accepted the challenge.