4338.214.1 | Sarah Lahey | Darkness Falls
As darkness envelops Jeffries Manor, Detective Sarah Lahey finds herself in a race against time, navigating a labyrinth of secrets and disappearances that threaten to swallow the truth forever.
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I rubbed my hand along Karl's inner thigh, pausing just before it reached its final goal. After another heated argument at his house last night, we had found a mutually pleasing way to make peace. My hand inched slowly forwards, the tips of my fingers stretching out to gently caress his bulging crotch. Karl's hands gripped the side of his seat, his knuckles turning white. I could feel his cock engorging, his arousal intensifying by the second. Enjoying the power, I reached slowly underneath him, cupping my hands under his balls and squeezing them gently, eliciting a light gasp from him.
When Karl opened his eyes ever so slightly and glanced over at me, my tongue seductively traced the outer edges of my lips, hinting at pleasures still to come.
Finding a secluded spot, we had parked the unmarked police car, giving ourselves a brief respite from the investigation's relentless pressure. The situation with Gladys, the elusive Luke, all the bodies we couldn't find, and the one we had, had turned the case into a maddening mumbo-jumbo of confusion and secrets. Neither Karl nor I were brave enough to reveal our dark secrets from the other night to each other. And honestly, my sanity was hanging by a thread; any distraction was welcome, however fleeting.
Our moment of escape was brutally shattered by the police radio. "CITY632," it squawked. Karl and I both knew that was our call sign. He turned to me, still half dazed. "We'd better grab that," he mumbled.
"CITY632, go ahead," I announced, taking the initiative since Karl was clearly not in a state to talk to dispatch.
"CITY632, a disturbance has been reported at a property in Granton. A woman is claiming that Luke Smith is on the premises. We've been advised to notify you of any jobs that come up with the name Luke Smith," the dispatcher informed.
"Fuck me!" Karl blurted out, abruptly pushing my hand away from his leg as he started the car’s engine. "This is it, tell them we’ve got it," he barked, his tone urgent, his daze instantly replaced by a sense of duty.
Karl revved the engine several times before turning on the red and blue lights above us. He sped down the street with the siren blaring, urgency palpable in every move he made. Meanwhile, I finished speaking with dispatch, my hands scrambling to note the job details.
Every nerve in my body was on edge as we raced toward the reported disturbance. This could be a major break in the case, a chance to finally confront Luke and untangle the web of mysteries surrounding him.
"CITY632, approaching the Jeffries property now," I spoke into the radio, my voice steady despite the tumultuous mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins. I clung to the hope that Gladys was right about Luke's ignorance regarding Cody's death. It was a slim thread of hope, but it was all I had to hang onto in this chaos. "Copy that CITY632. Proceed with extreme caution. Backup is on its way," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the radio, adding to the tension that was already building up inside me. As we approached the property, my gaze fell upon the grand entrance. The two words, "Jeffries Manor," were etched into a metallic slab, balancing precariously between the iron arms of an aged archway. "Jeffries Manor," I repeated softly, the words leaving my mouth in a whisper. A cold shiver ran up my spine as I took in the sight of the imposing structure. The manor loomed ahead, an edifice of old secrets and untold stories, its presence somehow magnifying the gravity of our arrival. We drove carefully up the rocky, dirt road that wound its way up the side of the hill, the tension in the car palpable as each of us prepared mentally for what might lay ahead. The road, uneven and untamed, seemed to mirror the unpredictability of our investigation. The short drive culminated at a striking sandstone building: Jeffries Manor. Its new extensions, added to both the front and back of the house, lent it an air of modern elegance and confidence, yet it stood before us like a stately home from colonial days – dignified, imposing, and laden with silent stories. As Karl pulled up and stopped under the shade of a large gum tree, I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt. The urgency of the situation propelled me out of the car door, my hand instinctively reaching for my gun. Every sense was heightened, every instinct screamed readiness. "No gun. Not yet," Karl cautioned me, his voice firm as he too climbed out of the patrol car. He held a hand up, a clear signal for me to follow his lead. We approached the house with caution, our steps measured and deliberate. The grandeur of Jeffries Manor was both awe-inspiring and intimidating. Its walls, rich with history, seemed to be watching us, silently assessing our every move. The manor, with its elegant sandstone and new architectural flourishes, stood as a testament to the passage of time and changing fortunes. It felt like stepping into another era, yet the urgency of finding Luke kept me firmly grounded in the present. As we moved closer to the entrance, I was acutely aware of the contrast between the manor's serene exterior and the potential danger that awaited us inside. The juxtaposition was unsettling, a reminder of how appearances can often be deceptive, masking the true nature of what lies beneath. "He’s in here," called out an older woman's voice, piercing the stillness just as we were about to knock on the front door of Jeffries Manor. The voice came from the direction of a shed that stood off to the side of the manor. Both Karl and I turned toward the sound, our attention instantly redirected. There, standing outside the shed door, was Louise Jeffries. She was wielding a very large kitchen knife, her posture tense and her eyes fixed on the shed. "Want to use those guns yet?" I asked Karl, only half-joking, as we cautiously approached Louise. My hand hovered near my gun holster, ready to act if the situation escalated. "Louise Jeffries," Karl addressed her authoritatively, his voice calm but firm. "It's time to hand the knife over," he told her, motioning for her to hand it over to me. "I've got the bastard trapped inside," Louise declared, a sense of triumph in her voice as she waved the large kitchen knife around with less care than the situation warranted. As I cautiously reached forward to take the knife from her, I noticed how Louise's hands trembled uncontrollably. Her facade of control was slipping, revealing the true extent of her terror. Her hands quivered like leaves in the wind as she handed over the knife. As soon as the weapon left her grasp, she crumbled under the weight of her emotions. "I can't find Brianne!" she cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. The name struck a chord, and I could see Karl's attention sharpen. "Brianne?" Karl echoed, seeking clarification. "Kain’s fiancée," Louise managed to say, her voice strained with distress. "Luke came here to talk to her and now she's gone too." "Take her back inside the house,” Karl instructed me, his voice indicating the urgency of keeping Louise safe. I gently took Louise by the arm, mindful of her fragile state. "Come inside, Louise," I prompted softly, guiding her towards the manor with a careful touch. Reluctantly, Louise allowed herself to be led back inside the house. As we left the shed behind, her arm shook increasingly with each step we took resonating with the unease that was steadily building within me. "Is there anybody else home?" I asked Louise as we entered the living area of the manor. I began to pull down the first of the blinds, aiming to secure the room and provide us some sense of safety. "Yes," replied Louise, her voice trembling as much as her hands. "Thelma." "Do you know where she is?" I asked, my eyes scanning the room for any signs of movement or other potential threats. "Upstairs in her room," she responded. "I'll need to check on her," I said, my mind already racing with the logistics of ensuring Thelma's safety while also keeping an eye on Louise. Louise began to pace in circles, her movements erratic and disjointed. Her hands moved frantically in front of her as her mouth uttered incoherent sounds, reminiscent of someone in deep distress. Her state was alarming, and it was crucial to bring her some level of calmness. Standing in front of Louise, I grabbed her hands tightly, grounding her with my firm but gentle grasp. "Louise," I said firmly, trying to cut through her panic. "Louise, look at me." For a moment, she continued to squirm, but then her eyes met mine. There was a brief flicker of recognition, a momentary pause in her disarray. "I need you to make sure all of these blinds are down and all the doors are locked. I need to go and make sure that Thelma is okay," I told her, my voice as calm as I could manage. It was important to give her a task, something to focus on. Louise nodded, a semblance of understanding crossing her face. "Can you do that for me?" I asked, needing her confirmation. "Yes," she whispered, nodding again more assuredly this time. "I'll be right back," I reassured her, releasing her hands. With my gun drawn, I ascended the stairs swiftly, each step amplifying a growing sense of dread. The idea that something terrible might happen to either Luke or Karl was consuming me. Karl's recent actions, his snapping of a man's neck, whether accidental or intentional, haunted my thoughts. It was clear evidence of his volatile emotional state, rendering him unpredictable and potentially dangerous. "Thelma," I whispered cautiously, opening the first door on the left. The room was empty, devoid of any signs of occupancy. My heart raced as I proceeded, checking each room along the long hallway. Each empty room only heightened my anxiety, the silence of the manor amplifying my fears. Finally, I reached the last door. A sense of foreboding washed over me as my fingers wrapped around the cold doorknob. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, its rhythm rapid and erratic. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I slowly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. "Thelma," I whispered again, my voice barely louder than a breath. "Hello, dear," came a croaky, old voice in response. Relief washed over me for a brief moment at the sound of Thelma's voice, but it was quickly replaced by caution. I stepped into the room, my eyes quickly scanning the surroundings, gun still in hand. The situation was still precarious, and I couldn't afford to let my guard down. I quickly moved to the side of the old woman, who lay in a large, four-poster bed, surrounded by a fortress of cushions and pillows. Her frailty was evident, and her presence in the bed spoke of a life lived long and, perhaps, hard. "It's so good to see you. I wasn't sure if you would come," Thelma said, her voice weak yet tinged with a sense of relief. Her frail, shaking hand reached out to take hold of mine, and I couldn't help but notice the tremble in her grasp. I gazed into her deep hazel eyes, finding myself momentarily caught in their depths. My mind raced with the urgency of the situation. I don't have time for this, I thought, but I couldn't let my impatience show. "We haven't met," I told Thelma, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Are you okay?" "No, dear," Thelma replied slowly, her voice trailing off as if caught in a distant memory. "Are you hurt?" I asked, my concern growing. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, heightening my senses. Thelma's shaking hand moved to pat my neck, an oddly comforting gesture. "I can't find the key," she murmured, her words seemingly disconnected from the present situation. I fought to keep my frustration in check, mindful of Thelma's fragile state. It was clear she was confused, possibly disoriented. "I need to get back to Louise," I told her, gently disengaging her hand as I stood up. "I'm going to close the bedroom door again. Don't open it for anyone," I instructed firmly, ensuring her safety. As I walked towards the door, ready to leave the room and return to the chaos unfolding outside, Thelma's voice suddenly pierced the air. "Jane, dear, don't go!" she cried out desperately. I froze, a shiver running down my spine. The name 'Jane' hung in the air, heavy with significance. Slowly, I turned back to face Thelma, whose tears were now streaming down her weathered, wrinkled face. Her expression was one of profound grief and pain. "Don't leave me again," she sobbed, her voice breaking. A lump formed in my throat as I stood there, momentarily paralysed. Does Thelma think that I'm my grandmother? The realisation dawned on me, mingling with a wave of sadness. The emotional toll of the case was starting to blur the lines between my professional and personal life in ways I hadn't anticipated. Before I could respond, the sound of a motorbike roaring to life outside snapped me back to reality. "Karl!" I gasped, recognising the urgency of the situation. "I'm sorry. I have to go," I said to Thelma, torn between the need to comfort her and the need to act on the case. With a heavy heart, I walked briskly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me. As I hurried down the hallway, the weight of Thelma's mistaken identity pressed heavily on my mind. It was a poignant reminder of the human cost of our investigation, the unseen toll it took on those caught in the crossfire. But right now, I had to focus. Karl was out there, possibly in danger, and I needed to be with him. I quickened my pace, pushing aside my emotions to focus on the task at hand. The case was reaching a critical point, and every second mattered.
"Get down!" I instructed Louise firmly as soon as I reentered the living area. "It's for your own safety," I added quickly when I noticed Louise hesitate, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. My tone was urgent, leaving no room for doubt or delay. Without waiting to see if she complied, I dashed outside. Time was of the essence, and every moment spent inside could mean missing something critical happening outside. As a detective, my instinct was to be where the action was, to respond, to protect, and to solve. As I burst through the door and into the open air, my heart sank when I realised Louise had followed me outside. "Get back inside!" I screamed, my voice filled with a mixture of frustration and fear for her safety. Louise, in her state of panic, was putting herself in unnecessary danger. "And lock the door," I added emphatically, gesturing towards the house. Drawing my gun, I held it out in front of me, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the motorbike I had heard. Its absence was unsettling. The area had fallen into an eerie quiet, punctuated only by the sound of Louise securing the door behind me. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost tangible. I moved towards the large, green corrugated iron shed with a sense of cautious urgency. Each step felt heavy, my awareness heightened to the potential danger that could be hiding within. The shed door was ajar, inviting yet ominous. “Karl, are you in there?" I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the open space. Entering the shed, gun firmly in hand, I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim, murky atmosphere. The interior was startlingly barren, a stark contrast to what I had anticipated. As my gaze swept across the space, the eerie emptiness became overwhelmingly apparent. The shed, except for a sparse array of tools and items clinging to the walls, was completely devoid of content. It was as if the floor itself had been wiped clean of existence. No Karl, no Luke, no motorbike – nothing but an unsettling void where there should have been something, anything. The sheer emptiness of the shed sent a shiver down my spine, birthing a plethora of questions in my mind. The vacant space didn’t just feel abandoned; it felt unnatural, as if it defied the very essence of what a shed should contain. "What have you done now, Karl?" I whispered, my voice laced with a mix of confusion and concern. The hollowness of the shed seemed to echo back my words, amplifying the sense of mystery and tension. I stepped back outside, my mind reeling from the bizarre scene I had just witnessed. The emptiness of the shed created a vacuum of understanding – it was as if I had stumbled upon a puzzle with missing pieces, a story with pages torn out. The sirens wailed closer now, their sound slicing through my thoughts. The blue and red lights flashed through the trees, signalling the approach of multiple police cars up the winding gravel driveway. As I stood there, rooted to the spot, a torrent of confusion and disbelief swept over me. How can Karl just disappear like this? I questioned myself, my thoughts swirling chaotically. I knew he had taken a motorbike, but his ability to vanish so quickly defied logic. It felt surreal, almost like a trick of the mind, yet I knew it was all too real. And where's Luke? The question gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, fuelling a growing sense of dread within me. A tight fear gripped my chest, constricting my breathing. The possibility that Karl might have killed Luke in a struggle and was now trying to dispose of the body loomed ominously in my mind. I hated to entertain such grim thoughts, but given what I now knew Karl was capable of, I couldn't dismiss them. The once outrageous accusations against my partner now seemed like a dire possibility, a terrifying reality that I was struggling to come to terms with. Caught in this daze of fear and confusion, I barely registered the arrival of the patrol cars. They skidded on the gravel outside the manor, kicking up dust and stones, but it all seemed to happen at a distance, as if I were observing it through a thick, sound-dulling fog. The sergeant's arrival was nothing more than a blur to me. I saw him spring from his car and hurry over, but his actions felt disconnected, as though part of a scene in a film I was watching rather than my reality. His footsteps approached, a faint clop in my ears, yet it sounded distant, almost inconsequential in the midst of the turmoil that engulfed my mind. The urgency of his movement, the concern likely etched on his face, none of it seemed to penetrate the bubble of shock and disbelief that enveloped me. In that moment, time seemed to slow down, and I felt disconnected from the world around me. The reality of Karl's actions, the fear for Luke's safety, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead created a vortex of emotions that I was struggling to navigate. I knew I had to snap out of this trance, to engage with the situation at hand, but it felt like an insurmountable task, as if I were trying to swim against a powerful current that was determined to pull me under. Sergeant Claiborne's grip on my shoulders felt both stabilising and intrusive as he jolted me from my daze. "Where the hell is Karl?" he demanded, his tone a mix of urgency and concern. The gentle shake he gave was enough to pull me back from the edge of my spiralling thoughts. I blinked several times, trying to clear the fog that had settled over my mind. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think he took off on a motorbike." The words felt hollow, even to my own ears, as if I was talking about someone else's life, not the surreal reality I was living. "Are you sure?" Claiborne pressed, giving me another gentle shake, a clear attempt to prevent me from glazing over again. His concern was evident, but it felt distant, as if filtered through a thick veil. My vision blurred, and I watched, almost detached, as a multitude of officers swarmed around the house. The scene before me was chaotic, officers moving swiftly, their voices a cacophony of urgency and command. "Louise and Thelma are still in there," I managed to say, pointing weakly towards Jeffries Manor. The names felt significant, anchors to the reality I was struggling to grasp. As the chaos continued to unfold around me, my legs gave way, the muscles seemingly dissolving under the weight of the situation. I slumped down into the dirt, the coolness of the earth a stark contrast to the turmoil in my head. I rested my spinning head in my hands, feeling overwhelmed and powerless. The ground beneath me was solid, yet everything else seemed to be spinning out of control. In that moment, sitting in the dirt, the world around me a blur of activity and noise, I felt utterly lost. The disappearance of Karl, the safety of Louise and Thelma, the unknown fate of Luke – it all converged into a maelstrom of uncertainty and fear. The responsibility of the situation weighed heavily on me, and I felt the crushing burden of not knowing what to do next.
Resting my back against the cool metal of the shed, I felt utterly spent. The day's events had sapped every ounce of energy from me. Over a dozen officers had scoured every inch of the Jeffries’ property and the dense wilderness beyond, but to no avail. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, the search was reluctantly called off. The impending darkness made it too risky to continue in the rough, unfamiliar terrain. "Don't worry, Sarah. We'll find Karl," Sergeant Claiborne reassured me, his voice confident as he leaned against the shed beside me. I wanted to believe him, but doubt and fatigue clouded my thoughts. Suddenly, a young officer approached us, his face alarmingly pale against the backdrop of the setting sun. "Sergeant!" he called out breathlessly. "An anonymous caller has just reported another break-in at Luke Smith’s house." My heart plummeted at the news. Without thinking, my body reacted, propelling me towards my car with a sense of urgency. "Sarah!" Sergeant Claiborne's voice echoed behind me. He sprinted past, reaching out to push my car door closed just as I was about to open it. "Sarah," he said softly, his hand gripping my shoulder, causing me to jump at the unexpected contact. I turned to face him, but my vision was blurred, his features barely registering. "Sarah," Claiborne repeated, his tone firm yet gentle. "You're exhausted. Go home. I've got it from here." His words penetrated the haze of my exhaustion. I realised then how worn out I truly was, both physically and emotionally. Nodding in silent agreement, I climbed into the car. My body felt heavy, each movement an effort. As I started the engine, the weight of the day's events pressed down on me.
Parked unobtrusively twenty meters up the road from Luke's house, the silence in my car was deafening compared to the distant wail of police sirens. The realisation hit me with the force of a tidal wave. My blood... they're going to find my blood at the scene! A fresh surge of panic cascaded through my weary body, exacerbating the exhaustion that already clung to me like a heavy shroud. In a futile attempt to grasp some control over the spiralling situation, I dialled Karl's number for the fourth time since leaving Jeffries Manor. Each ring heightened my anxiety, and, as expected, it went straight to voicemail once again. The frustration and helplessness I felt were overwhelming. "Where the fuck are you, Karl!?" I screamed into the phone, my voice a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. My fists pounded against the steering wheel, the thuds echoing in the small confines of the car. Each strike was weaker than the last, my energy reserves nearly depleted. I slumped back in my seat, feeling utterly defeated and alone. The weight of the events, the decisions made, the actions taken - it all seemed to converge into this one moment of despair. Staring blankly at Luke's house, the flickering blue and red lights in the distance felt like harbingers of an impending storm. My mind raced with the possibilities of what the police would find, what they would think, and how I could possibly navigate the web of lies and half-truths that had entangled me. The sudden movement of two figures darting across the vacant corner block adjacent to Luke's house jolted me from my overwhelmed stupor. Reflexively, I leaned out of the car window, my eyes straining against the encroaching darkness of the evening. The figures were too distant, their identities shrouded in the growing shadows of twilight, rendering them unrecognisable. In a desperate attempt to capture any clue that might unravel this ever-complicating mystery, I grabbed my phone. Leaning out the window once more, I quickly snapped a picture of the two women as they hastened across the road, making their way toward a car parked alongside the bushes. Falling back into my seat, my eyes focused on the image as I zoomed in on the targets. Settling back into the driver's seat, I brought the phone closer, my fingers working to zoom in on the image. The digital enhancement gradually brought their features into focus. A wave of disbelief washed over me as I recognised the faces. "Mrs. Pafistis and Mrs. Triffett," I whispered to myself, my voice a mix of shock and confusion. "What the fuck are they doing here?" The sudden intrusion shattered the fragile calm within the car. The passenger door swung open with a force that made me jump, and before I could react, a figure slid into the seat beside me. My heart thundered in my chest, a rapid drumbeat of shock and fear. Instinctively, my hand moved towards where my gun should have been, but I realised I hadn't even had the chance to draw it. Turning to face the intruder, I was met with a familiar face. "Gladys!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of surprise and apprehension. The sight of her there, unexpected and uninvited, sent a surge of questions racing through my mind. Gladys looked back at me, her face a canvas of sorrow, marked by trails of tears that glistened in the dim light of the car's interior. In her trembling hand, she held out an open bottle of red wine, an offering that seemed bizarrely out of place in the situation. "Sarah," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need your help."
"CITY632, approaching the Jeffries property now," I spoke into the radio, my voice steady despite the tumultuous mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins. I clung to the hope that Gladys was right about Luke's ignorance regarding Cody's death. It was a slim thread of hope, but it was all I had to hang onto in this chaos. "Copy that CITY632. Proceed with extreme caution. Backup is on its way," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the radio, adding to the tension that was already building up inside me. As we approached the property, my gaze fell upon the grand entrance. The two words, "Jeffries Manor," were etched into a metallic slab, balancing precariously between the iron arms of an aged archway. "Jeffries Manor," I repeated softly, the words leaving my mouth in a whisper. A cold shiver ran up my spine as I took in the sight of the imposing structure. The manor loomed ahead, an edifice of old secrets and untold stories, its presence somehow magnifying the gravity of our arrival. We drove carefully up the rocky, dirt road that wound its way up the side of the hill, the tension in the car palpable as each of us prepared mentally for what might lay ahead. The road, uneven and untamed, seemed to mirror the unpredictability of our investigation. The short drive culminated at a striking sandstone building: Jeffries Manor. Its new extensions, added to both the front and back of the house, lent it an air of modern elegance and confidence, yet it stood before us like a stately home from colonial days – dignified, imposing, and laden with silent stories. As Karl pulled up and stopped under the shade of a large gum tree, I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt. The urgency of the situation propelled me out of the car door, my hand instinctively reaching for my gun. Every sense was heightened, every instinct screamed readiness. "No gun. Not yet," Karl cautioned me, his voice firm as he too climbed out of the patrol car. He held a hand up, a clear signal for me to follow his lead. We approached the house with caution, our steps measured and deliberate. The grandeur of Jeffries Manor was both awe-inspiring and intimidating. Its walls, rich with history, seemed to be watching us, silently assessing our every move. The manor, with its elegant sandstone and new architectural flourishes, stood as a testament to the passage of time and changing fortunes. It felt like stepping into another era, yet the urgency of finding Luke kept me firmly grounded in the present. As we moved closer to the entrance, I was acutely aware of the contrast between the manor's serene exterior and the potential danger that awaited us inside. The juxtaposition was unsettling, a reminder of how appearances can often be deceptive, masking the true nature of what lies beneath. "He’s in here," called out an older woman's voice, piercing the stillness just as we were about to knock on the front door of Jeffries Manor. The voice came from the direction of a shed that stood off to the side of the manor. Both Karl and I turned toward the sound, our attention instantly redirected. There, standing outside the shed door, was Louise Jeffries. She was wielding a very large kitchen knife, her posture tense and her eyes fixed on the shed. "Want to use those guns yet?" I asked Karl, only half-joking, as we cautiously approached Louise. My hand hovered near my gun holster, ready to act if the situation escalated. "Louise Jeffries," Karl addressed her authoritatively, his voice calm but firm. "It's time to hand the knife over," he told her, motioning for her to hand it over to me. "I've got the bastard trapped inside," Louise declared, a sense of triumph in her voice as she waved the large kitchen knife around with less care than the situation warranted. As I cautiously reached forward to take the knife from her, I noticed how Louise's hands trembled uncontrollably. Her facade of control was slipping, revealing the true extent of her terror. Her hands quivered like leaves in the wind as she handed over the knife. As soon as the weapon left her grasp, she crumbled under the weight of her emotions. "I can't find Brianne!" she cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. The name struck a chord, and I could see Karl's attention sharpen. "Brianne?" Karl echoed, seeking clarification. "Kain’s fiancée," Louise managed to say, her voice strained with distress. "Luke came here to talk to her and now she's gone too." "Take her back inside the house,” Karl instructed me, his voice indicating the urgency of keeping Louise safe. I gently took Louise by the arm, mindful of her fragile state. "Come inside, Louise," I prompted softly, guiding her towards the manor with a careful touch. Reluctantly, Louise allowed herself to be led back inside the house. As we left the shed behind, her arm shook increasingly with each step we took resonating with the unease that was steadily building within me. "Is there anybody else home?" I asked Louise as we entered the living area of the manor. I began to pull down the first of the blinds, aiming to secure the room and provide us some sense of safety. "Yes," replied Louise, her voice trembling as much as her hands. "Thelma." "Do you know where she is?" I asked, my eyes scanning the room for any signs of movement or other potential threats. "Upstairs in her room," she responded. "I'll need to check on her," I said, my mind already racing with the logistics of ensuring Thelma's safety while also keeping an eye on Louise. Louise began to pace in circles, her movements erratic and disjointed. Her hands moved frantically in front of her as her mouth uttered incoherent sounds, reminiscent of someone in deep distress. Her state was alarming, and it was crucial to bring her some level of calmness. Standing in front of Louise, I grabbed her hands tightly, grounding her with my firm but gentle grasp. "Louise," I said firmly, trying to cut through her panic. "Louise, look at me." For a moment, she continued to squirm, but then her eyes met mine. There was a brief flicker of recognition, a momentary pause in her disarray. "I need you to make sure all of these blinds are down and all the doors are locked. I need to go and make sure that Thelma is okay," I told her, my voice as calm as I could manage. It was important to give her a task, something to focus on. Louise nodded, a semblance of understanding crossing her face. "Can you do that for me?" I asked, needing her confirmation. "Yes," she whispered, nodding again more assuredly this time. "I'll be right back," I reassured her, releasing her hands. With my gun drawn, I ascended the stairs swiftly, each step amplifying a growing sense of dread. The idea that something terrible might happen to either Luke or Karl was consuming me. Karl's recent actions, his snapping of a man's neck, whether accidental or intentional, haunted my thoughts. It was clear evidence of his volatile emotional state, rendering him unpredictable and potentially dangerous. "Thelma," I whispered cautiously, opening the first door on the left. The room was empty, devoid of any signs of occupancy. My heart raced as I proceeded, checking each room along the long hallway. Each empty room only heightened my anxiety, the silence of the manor amplifying my fears. Finally, I reached the last door. A sense of foreboding washed over me as my fingers wrapped around the cold doorknob. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, its rhythm rapid and erratic. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I slowly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. "Thelma," I whispered again, my voice barely louder than a breath. "Hello, dear," came a croaky, old voice in response. Relief washed over me for a brief moment at the sound of Thelma's voice, but it was quickly replaced by caution. I stepped into the room, my eyes quickly scanning the surroundings, gun still in hand. The situation was still precarious, and I couldn't afford to let my guard down. I quickly moved to the side of the old woman, who lay in a large, four-poster bed, surrounded by a fortress of cushions and pillows. Her frailty was evident, and her presence in the bed spoke of a life lived long and, perhaps, hard. "It's so good to see you. I wasn't sure if you would come," Thelma said, her voice weak yet tinged with a sense of relief. Her frail, shaking hand reached out to take hold of mine, and I couldn't help but notice the tremble in her grasp. I gazed into her deep hazel eyes, finding myself momentarily caught in their depths. My mind raced with the urgency of the situation. I don't have time for this, I thought, but I couldn't let my impatience show. "We haven't met," I told Thelma, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Are you okay?" "No, dear," Thelma replied slowly, her voice trailing off as if caught in a distant memory. "Are you hurt?" I asked, my concern growing. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, heightening my senses. Thelma's shaking hand moved to pat my neck, an oddly comforting gesture. "I can't find the key," she murmured, her words seemingly disconnected from the present situation. I fought to keep my frustration in check, mindful of Thelma's fragile state. It was clear she was confused, possibly disoriented. "I need to get back to Louise," I told her, gently disengaging her hand as I stood up. "I'm going to close the bedroom door again. Don't open it for anyone," I instructed firmly, ensuring her safety. As I walked towards the door, ready to leave the room and return to the chaos unfolding outside, Thelma's voice suddenly pierced the air. "Jane, dear, don't go!" she cried out desperately. I froze, a shiver running down my spine. The name 'Jane' hung in the air, heavy with significance. Slowly, I turned back to face Thelma, whose tears were now streaming down her weathered, wrinkled face. Her expression was one of profound grief and pain. "Don't leave me again," she sobbed, her voice breaking. A lump formed in my throat as I stood there, momentarily paralysed. Does Thelma think that I'm my grandmother? The realisation dawned on me, mingling with a wave of sadness. The emotional toll of the case was starting to blur the lines between my professional and personal life in ways I hadn't anticipated. Before I could respond, the sound of a motorbike roaring to life outside snapped me back to reality. "Karl!" I gasped, recognising the urgency of the situation. "I'm sorry. I have to go," I said to Thelma, torn between the need to comfort her and the need to act on the case. With a heavy heart, I walked briskly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me. As I hurried down the hallway, the weight of Thelma's mistaken identity pressed heavily on my mind. It was a poignant reminder of the human cost of our investigation, the unseen toll it took on those caught in the crossfire. But right now, I had to focus. Karl was out there, possibly in danger, and I needed to be with him. I quickened my pace, pushing aside my emotions to focus on the task at hand. The case was reaching a critical point, and every second mattered.
"Get down!" I instructed Louise firmly as soon as I reentered the living area. "It's for your own safety," I added quickly when I noticed Louise hesitate, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. My tone was urgent, leaving no room for doubt or delay. Without waiting to see if she complied, I dashed outside. Time was of the essence, and every moment spent inside could mean missing something critical happening outside. As a detective, my instinct was to be where the action was, to respond, to protect, and to solve. As I burst through the door and into the open air, my heart sank when I realised Louise had followed me outside. "Get back inside!" I screamed, my voice filled with a mixture of frustration and fear for her safety. Louise, in her state of panic, was putting herself in unnecessary danger. "And lock the door," I added emphatically, gesturing towards the house. Drawing my gun, I held it out in front of me, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the motorbike I had heard. Its absence was unsettling. The area had fallen into an eerie quiet, punctuated only by the sound of Louise securing the door behind me. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost tangible. I moved towards the large, green corrugated iron shed with a sense of cautious urgency. Each step felt heavy, my awareness heightened to the potential danger that could be hiding within. The shed door was ajar, inviting yet ominous. “Karl, are you in there?" I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the open space. Entering the shed, gun firmly in hand, I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim, murky atmosphere. The interior was startlingly barren, a stark contrast to what I had anticipated. As my gaze swept across the space, the eerie emptiness became overwhelmingly apparent. The shed, except for a sparse array of tools and items clinging to the walls, was completely devoid of content. It was as if the floor itself had been wiped clean of existence. No Karl, no Luke, no motorbike – nothing but an unsettling void where there should have been something, anything. The sheer emptiness of the shed sent a shiver down my spine, birthing a plethora of questions in my mind. The vacant space didn’t just feel abandoned; it felt unnatural, as if it defied the very essence of what a shed should contain. "What have you done now, Karl?" I whispered, my voice laced with a mix of confusion and concern. The hollowness of the shed seemed to echo back my words, amplifying the sense of mystery and tension. I stepped back outside, my mind reeling from the bizarre scene I had just witnessed. The emptiness of the shed created a vacuum of understanding – it was as if I had stumbled upon a puzzle with missing pieces, a story with pages torn out. The sirens wailed closer now, their sound slicing through my thoughts. The blue and red lights flashed through the trees, signalling the approach of multiple police cars up the winding gravel driveway. As I stood there, rooted to the spot, a torrent of confusion and disbelief swept over me. How can Karl just disappear like this? I questioned myself, my thoughts swirling chaotically. I knew he had taken a motorbike, but his ability to vanish so quickly defied logic. It felt surreal, almost like a trick of the mind, yet I knew it was all too real. And where's Luke? The question gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, fuelling a growing sense of dread within me. A tight fear gripped my chest, constricting my breathing. The possibility that Karl might have killed Luke in a struggle and was now trying to dispose of the body loomed ominously in my mind. I hated to entertain such grim thoughts, but given what I now knew Karl was capable of, I couldn't dismiss them. The once outrageous accusations against my partner now seemed like a dire possibility, a terrifying reality that I was struggling to come to terms with. Caught in this daze of fear and confusion, I barely registered the arrival of the patrol cars. They skidded on the gravel outside the manor, kicking up dust and stones, but it all seemed to happen at a distance, as if I were observing it through a thick, sound-dulling fog. The sergeant's arrival was nothing more than a blur to me. I saw him spring from his car and hurry over, but his actions felt disconnected, as though part of a scene in a film I was watching rather than my reality. His footsteps approached, a faint clop in my ears, yet it sounded distant, almost inconsequential in the midst of the turmoil that engulfed my mind. The urgency of his movement, the concern likely etched on his face, none of it seemed to penetrate the bubble of shock and disbelief that enveloped me. In that moment, time seemed to slow down, and I felt disconnected from the world around me. The reality of Karl's actions, the fear for Luke's safety, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead created a vortex of emotions that I was struggling to navigate. I knew I had to snap out of this trance, to engage with the situation at hand, but it felt like an insurmountable task, as if I were trying to swim against a powerful current that was determined to pull me under. Sergeant Claiborne's grip on my shoulders felt both stabilising and intrusive as he jolted me from my daze. "Where the hell is Karl?" he demanded, his tone a mix of urgency and concern. The gentle shake he gave was enough to pull me back from the edge of my spiralling thoughts. I blinked several times, trying to clear the fog that had settled over my mind. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think he took off on a motorbike." The words felt hollow, even to my own ears, as if I was talking about someone else's life, not the surreal reality I was living. "Are you sure?" Claiborne pressed, giving me another gentle shake, a clear attempt to prevent me from glazing over again. His concern was evident, but it felt distant, as if filtered through a thick veil. My vision blurred, and I watched, almost detached, as a multitude of officers swarmed around the house. The scene before me was chaotic, officers moving swiftly, their voices a cacophony of urgency and command. "Louise and Thelma are still in there," I managed to say, pointing weakly towards Jeffries Manor. The names felt significant, anchors to the reality I was struggling to grasp. As the chaos continued to unfold around me, my legs gave way, the muscles seemingly dissolving under the weight of the situation. I slumped down into the dirt, the coolness of the earth a stark contrast to the turmoil in my head. I rested my spinning head in my hands, feeling overwhelmed and powerless. The ground beneath me was solid, yet everything else seemed to be spinning out of control. In that moment, sitting in the dirt, the world around me a blur of activity and noise, I felt utterly lost. The disappearance of Karl, the safety of Louise and Thelma, the unknown fate of Luke – it all converged into a maelstrom of uncertainty and fear. The responsibility of the situation weighed heavily on me, and I felt the crushing burden of not knowing what to do next.
Resting my back against the cool metal of the shed, I felt utterly spent. The day's events had sapped every ounce of energy from me. Over a dozen officers had scoured every inch of the Jeffries’ property and the dense wilderness beyond, but to no avail. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, the search was reluctantly called off. The impending darkness made it too risky to continue in the rough, unfamiliar terrain. "Don't worry, Sarah. We'll find Karl," Sergeant Claiborne reassured me, his voice confident as he leaned against the shed beside me. I wanted to believe him, but doubt and fatigue clouded my thoughts. Suddenly, a young officer approached us, his face alarmingly pale against the backdrop of the setting sun. "Sergeant!" he called out breathlessly. "An anonymous caller has just reported another break-in at Luke Smith’s house." My heart plummeted at the news. Without thinking, my body reacted, propelling me towards my car with a sense of urgency. "Sarah!" Sergeant Claiborne's voice echoed behind me. He sprinted past, reaching out to push my car door closed just as I was about to open it. "Sarah," he said softly, his hand gripping my shoulder, causing me to jump at the unexpected contact. I turned to face him, but my vision was blurred, his features barely registering. "Sarah," Claiborne repeated, his tone firm yet gentle. "You're exhausted. Go home. I've got it from here." His words penetrated the haze of my exhaustion. I realised then how worn out I truly was, both physically and emotionally. Nodding in silent agreement, I climbed into the car. My body felt heavy, each movement an effort. As I started the engine, the weight of the day's events pressed down on me.
Parked unobtrusively twenty meters up the road from Luke's house, the silence in my car was deafening compared to the distant wail of police sirens. The realisation hit me with the force of a tidal wave. My blood... they're going to find my blood at the scene! A fresh surge of panic cascaded through my weary body, exacerbating the exhaustion that already clung to me like a heavy shroud. In a futile attempt to grasp some control over the spiralling situation, I dialled Karl's number for the fourth time since leaving Jeffries Manor. Each ring heightened my anxiety, and, as expected, it went straight to voicemail once again. The frustration and helplessness I felt were overwhelming. "Where the fuck are you, Karl!?" I screamed into the phone, my voice a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. My fists pounded against the steering wheel, the thuds echoing in the small confines of the car. Each strike was weaker than the last, my energy reserves nearly depleted. I slumped back in my seat, feeling utterly defeated and alone. The weight of the events, the decisions made, the actions taken - it all seemed to converge into this one moment of despair. Staring blankly at Luke's house, the flickering blue and red lights in the distance felt like harbingers of an impending storm. My mind raced with the possibilities of what the police would find, what they would think, and how I could possibly navigate the web of lies and half-truths that had entangled me. The sudden movement of two figures darting across the vacant corner block adjacent to Luke's house jolted me from my overwhelmed stupor. Reflexively, I leaned out of the car window, my eyes straining against the encroaching darkness of the evening. The figures were too distant, their identities shrouded in the growing shadows of twilight, rendering them unrecognisable. In a desperate attempt to capture any clue that might unravel this ever-complicating mystery, I grabbed my phone. Leaning out the window once more, I quickly snapped a picture of the two women as they hastened across the road, making their way toward a car parked alongside the bushes. Falling back into my seat, my eyes focused on the image as I zoomed in on the targets. Settling back into the driver's seat, I brought the phone closer, my fingers working to zoom in on the image. The digital enhancement gradually brought their features into focus. A wave of disbelief washed over me as I recognised the faces. "Mrs. Pafistis and Mrs. Triffett," I whispered to myself, my voice a mix of shock and confusion. "What the fuck are they doing here?" The sudden intrusion shattered the fragile calm within the car. The passenger door swung open with a force that made me jump, and before I could react, a figure slid into the seat beside me. My heart thundered in my chest, a rapid drumbeat of shock and fear. Instinctively, my hand moved towards where my gun should have been, but I realised I hadn't even had the chance to draw it. Turning to face the intruder, I was met with a familiar face. "Gladys!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of surprise and apprehension. The sight of her there, unexpected and uninvited, sent a surge of questions racing through my mind. Gladys looked back at me, her face a canvas of sorrow, marked by trails of tears that glistened in the dim light of the car's interior. In her trembling hand, she held out an open bottle of red wine, an offering that seemed bizarrely out of place in the situation. "Sarah," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need your help."
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