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CHAPTER EIGHT
Fiona could feel her anxiety gnawing through her insides like a series of ants as she sat in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pavement as Jake’s car pulled up outside Harry's shop. The store now stood silent and abandoned, its windows dark and lifeless. A pang of sadness struck Fiona as she imagined the vibrant life that had once filled the space.
"Harry lived in the apartment above the shop with his brother," Jake said, snapping Fiona out of her thoughts. "Let's see if he can shed any light on this situation."
After getting out of the car, they climbed the creaky stairs leading to the apartment door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Fiona could sense the weight of the case settling on her shoulders, the lives of two victims urging her to uncover the truth.
As they reached the door, Fiona took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. There was no telling what they might learn or how it would affect the investigation. But one thing was certain: they were one step closer to solving this mystery.
And with that thought in mind, Fiona rapped sharply on the door, waiting for the sound of footsteps to approach from within.
The door creaked open, revealing a weary-eyed man with unkempt hair and the beginnings of a beard. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, and his slumped shoulders suggested a heavy burden.
"Evening, sir," Jake said, extending his hand and flashing his FBI badge. "I'm Agent Jake Tucker, and this is my partner, Fiona Red."
"Travis," the man replied, giving a weak nod. "Harry's brother, I guess you're here about him."
Fiona couldn't help but notice the way Travis's hands shook ever so slightly when he mentioned Harry's name – an outward sign of the internal turmoil that must be consuming him. She wondered how long it had been since he'd eaten or slept properly. Harry had been reported missing two weeks ago, but only today was he confirmed to be dead. Fiona could only imagine how hard this was on Travis.
"May we come in?" Jake asked gently, and Travis nodded, stepping back to let them pass.
"Please, have a seat," Travis gestured to a worn couch, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Travis, we're really sorry for your loss," Fiona began, her tone soft and empathetic. "We want to find out what happened to Harry, and we were hoping you might be able to help us."
"I'll do whatever I can," Travis pledged, his eyes filled with determination despite the exhaustion etched across his face.
"Thank you," Jake said sincerely. "You mentioned earlier that you assumed we were here about Harry; did something make you suspect we would be coming?"
"Harry went missing weeks ago," Travis answered, his voice cracking slightly. "I knew deep down that he wasn't coming back, but I held onto hope. Then today, the cops gave me the call and, well, you know the rest.”
As Travis spoke, Fiona couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man. He was trying to hold it together, to be strong in the face of unimaginable pain.
"Travis, did Harry have any enemies that you know of?" Fiona asked, her voice steady and professional. "Or anyone who might want to hurt him?"
"Harry was just… he was a good guy," Travis said, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the floor as he tried to find the right words. "He was dependable, always there when you needed him. He loved the outdoors, too – camping, hiking, all that stuff. His shop downstairs is dedicated to hiking and camping supplies."
Fiona nodded, processing the information. It made sense that Harry would be found out in the woods, given his love for the outdoors. As she mulled over the facts, she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on beneath the surface. A man like Harry didn't just end up dead in the woods without a reason.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Jake’s voice. "Travis, could we take a look at the shop downstairs?"
"Sure," Travis replied hesitantly. "Follow me."
As they descended the narrow staircase, the scent of pine and leather filled Fiona’s nostrils – a sharp contrast to the stale air of the apartment above. The walls were lined with shelves carrying an array of outdoor gear, from camping stoves to rugged backpacks. It was evident that Harry had poured his heart and soul into the place.
"Harry really loved the outdoors, huh?" Jake remarked, her fingers brushing over a row of shiny hunting knives.
"More than anything," Travis confirmed, the pride in his voice tinged with sadness. "He spent every free moment he had out in the woods or up in the mountains."
Fiona wandered through the aisles, her eyes scanning the displays as he tried to piece together what might have drawn Harry's killer to him. Her gut told her there was a connection here, but it remained frustratingly elusive.
"Did Harry keep any personal items in the shop? Something that might give us a better understanding of who he was?" Fiona asked, her gaze fixed on a display case filled with intricately carved wooden animal figurines.
"Most of his stuff is upstairs," Travis explained, "but he did have a small office in the back where he kept some personal things."
"May we see it?" Jake inquired. Fiona hoped that a glimpse into Harry's private world might provide the clue they needed.
"Of course." Travis led them through a door in the back corner of the shop, revealing a cramped office space. A cluttered desk sat against one wall, piled high with papers and various knickknacks. A corkboard covered in maps and photographs hung above the desk, echoing Harry's love for adventure.
