Chapter 35: Finding more evidence

Ariel rolled her eyes but followed anyway.

They stepped cautiously into the corridor. The lights flickered once, then steadied.

Nat reached for the baseball bat leaning by the wall. Ariel glanced at him, unimpressed.

“I thought you preferred a gun,” she whispered.

“I prefer silence,” he muttered back.

Another sound, this time like glass shifting—came from the living room.

Ariel spun around, her pulse rising. She grabbed her badge instinctively, though it was useless here.

“Who’s there?” Nat barked, stepping forward.

No answer.

He walked back toward the couch, checking behind it, then the windows. Nothing.

Ariel frowned, scanning the room. Her eyes narrowed. “The coffee’s still warm.”

Nat blinked. “You just drank it.”

She shook her head slowly. “Not my cup. Yours.”

He turned toward the dining table—and froze.

His cup sat where he’d left it, but the handle had shifted. Someone had touched it.

Ariel’s hand went to her hip out of habit, though she wasn’t carrying her weapon. “Nat…” she whispered.

Before he could respond, a light thud came from upstairs.

Nat’s expression hardened. “You stay here,” he ordered.

“Like hell I will.” She grabbed a knife from the counter. “You go up there, you’re not going alone.”

He gave her a look but didn’t argue this time.

They climbed the stairs quietly, the house filled with the kind of silence that made every breath sound dangerous.

At the end of the hallway, the door to Nat’s study stood slightly ajar.

Nat pushed it open slowly. The room was dark, curtains drawn.

Ariel stepped in beside him, her gaze sweeping over the desk, the open files, the disheveled papers. Then she saw it—something glinting near the edge of the desk.

A silver necklace.

Ariel picked it up carefully. Her breath hitched. “This isn’t yours.”

Nat stared at it, his jaw tightening. “No.”

“Whose is it?”

He didn’t reply, but the muscle in his cheek twitched.

“Nat…” she whispered, realizing. “This is the same one found at the bar.”

His silence was all the confirmation she needed.

Her eyes widened, and the knife trembled slightly in her grip. “You’ve been hiding evidence.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said sharply.

She stepped back, disbelief clouding her face. “Then explain it to me—because right now it looks like you're hiding something.”

Nat ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You shouldn’t have come here, Ariel.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Because I might finally figure out the truth?”

Before he could answer, a sudden bang echoed downstairs—followed by the shatter of glass.

Both of them turned at once.

“Stay behind me,” Nat said, gripping the bat tighter.

They rushed down the stairs, the sound of heavy boots fading just as they reached the living room. The back door hung open, and somewhere outside, a car engine roared to life. Tires screeched. Then silence.

Later that night, Ariel sat on the couch, her leg crossed over the other.

“Explain this,” she said, pointing at the silver necklace on the table. “You weren’t even at the station when we started this case, Nat. So how the hell do you have this?”

Nat dragged a hand over his face, sighing in frustration. “Ariel…”

She stood, refusing to back down. “Answer me.”

He raised his head, eyes sharp with irritation. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this. You really need to go find another place to stay in.”

Ariel didn’t flinch. If anything, his attempt to dismiss her only deepened her suspicion. She studied him closely, her detective instincts humming.

“You’re hiding something,” she said quietly. “And if you think I’m leaving until I find out what it is, you don’t know me at all.”

Nat turned away, silent.

Ariel let out a small laugh, she dropped the necklace back onto the table and forced a playful pout.

“Probably I mistook it for the one I saw,” she said with a dry chuckle. “Don’t mind me.”

Then, softer, almost pleadingly, “If you chase me out, where will I go?”

Nat looked at her—really looked—and for a brief moment, the annoyance in his eyes faltered.

He exhaled slowly, his tone dropping low. “Then stay out of my study, Ariel.”

She smirked faintly, turning toward the couch again. “No promises.”

The rain stopped just before dawn.

Ariel hadn’t slept.

She sat curled on the couch, wrapped in a thin blanket, her eyes fixed on the way that led to Nat’s study. Every minute, her mind replayed the moment she saw that necklace—the same one from the bar murder. It couldn’t be coincidence.

She stood, careful not to make a sound. The clock read 6:12 a.m.

From the faint creak upstairs, she could tell Nat was awake.

When the front door finally shut behind him a few minutes later, she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. He’d gone out.

Now or never.

Ariel padded down the corridor, her steps light. The door to his study was still half-closed, she slipped inside.

The desk was exactly as they’d left it—files scattered, pen uncapped, coffee ring staining the corner of a document. But this time, she noticed things she hadn’t before: a second drawer slightly ajar, and a faint indentation on the rug, like something heavy had recently been moved.

She crouched, running her hand along the floorboard. Her fingers brushed against a metal latch.

A hidden compartment.

Her heartbeat quickened. “What the hell are you hiding, Nat?” she whispered to herself.

She pried it open. Inside was a black box, sleek and locked with a coded dial. But beside it lay several photographs, faded around the edges.

Ariel’s eyes widened.

They were pictures of the crime scenes—but not just the bar murder, others too. Including those SK killed and some she hadn’t even seen on file. Each marked with a red “X” and dates that didn’t line up with the official reports.

Then she froze.

The last photograph was of her.

Taken from a distance, through a window. She was at the hospital, two days before her discharge.

Her throat tightened.

She turned the photo over. There was a small note scrawled in sharp handwriting.

“You’re next.”

Her stomach dropped. The words burned into her eyes.

She shoved the photos back into the box, her hands trembling. For a second, she considered putting everything exactly as it was—but something inside her snapped. She grabbed her phone, snapped quick pictures of the documents and the photographs, then closed the compartment.

Just as she stood, the sound of the front door opening froze her in place.

He’s back.