By the time I get back to my place, it’s past noon.My coffee’s gone cold, and the adrenaline’s long since turned sour.I load the pictures onto my computer and pull up the AI render tool I use for graphics mockups.
“Let’s see what you can do,” I mutter.
The program’s interface is slick—drag, drop, prompt.I feed it a description:wooden barn engulfed in flames, collapsing structure, night sky, smoke and embers.
The preview loads slowly, pixel by pixel, until the image burns to life—so convincing it makes my chest tighten.
I generate two more variations, one mid-blaze and one showing only smoldering ash.I save them, adjust the metadata so it looks like a phone shot, and attach them to a text message on the burner phone that says simply?—
Done.
I let my finger hover over the send button for a minute.
Another.
One more.
Then I hit it.
It’s only after I close the laptop that I let myself breathe.The satisfaction doesn’t last long.
If the picture of Vega was AI, and now this is too… We’re all just lying to each other with prettier tools.The whole world is smoke and mirrors.
I pull out my phone again and scroll through my contacts until I hit a name I haven’t used in a while—Jack Masters, PI.He’s a former cop, and he excels at finding what people don’t want found.
He answers on the second ring.“Bellamy?Damn, haven’t heard from you since you wanted dirt on that land developer.”
“This is different,” I say.“Are you available?”
“For you?Always.What do you need?”
“A property sweep.An abandoned barn on Bellamy land.Coordinates incoming.Don’t advertise who hired you.”
“Got it.You expecting trouble?”
“Just the truth.”
He grunts.“I’ll head out first thing in the morning.”
“Tonight,” I say.“I’ll pay extra.”
“Copy that.”
I send him the coordinates, close the call, and sink back in my chair.My reflection in the dark laptop screen looks nothing like me.
If Jack finds nothing, I’ll torch the place for real.Reyes will have his ashes, and I’ll have one less secret weighing me down.
But deep down, I already know that barn isn’t just an old building.
It’s a grave.
I just don’t know whose yet.
