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"You know," Travis began, hesitating by the door to Harry's room, "I used to live with my girlfriend, but when we broke up, Harry let me move in here. He was a great brother." His voice wavered slightly, betraying the emotional weight of his words.
Fiona offered him a sympathetic smile, touched by the obvious love between the siblings. "It sounds like you two were really close."
"Yeah," Travis replied, his gaze distant as memories flickered behind his eyes. "We were."
As they entered Harry's room, Fiona couldn't help but notice how much it mirrored the rest of the apartment – simple and unassuming, yet filled with quiet personality. A neatly made bed took up one corner, an old-fashioned quilt draped across its surface. A sturdy oak desk stood against the opposite wall, scattered with pens and loose sheets of paper.
"Harry was always writing," Travis commented, watching as Fiona crossed the room to examine the desk. "He kept journals, wrote poetry... he was a very introspective guy."
"Is this one of his journals?" Fiona asked, her fingers brushing against the spine of a leather-bound book nestled amongst the clutter.
"I guess so," Travis admitted, stepping closer for a better look. "I've never seen it before, but it wouldn't surprise me if it is."
With a growing sense of anticipation, Fiona carefully opened the journal to a random page. As she scanned the neat, looping handwriting, her mind raced with possibilities. Fiona's fingers traced the edges of the worn journal pages, their texture soft like a whisper. She could almost hear Harry's voice as she read his words, and for a moment, she felt an odd connection to the man whose life had been cut tragically short. The room seemed to close in on her, and the scent of old paper and ink filled her nostrils. This was a part of Harry that few people would ever see – his innermost thoughts, fears, and struggles.
As she flipped through the journal, one entry caught her eye. The date was from a few years back, and the words conveyed a mix of fear and disbelief. "Travis," Fiona said, her voice wavering slightly, "listen to this. 'I found her in the woods today, cold and lifeless. I can't get her face out of my mind; it haunts me in the darkest hours of the night.'"
"Whoa," Travis murmured, leaning in to read over Fiona's shoulder. "That's... intense."
"Did something like this ever happen?" she asked, glancing at Travis with a furrowed brow.
"Actually, yeah," Travis said, his face paling. "Years ago, while I was living in another city, Harry discovered a woman's body while he was hiking. He... had nightmares about it for months afterward. I'd forgotten all about it until now."
"Could you tell us more?" Jake interjected, his eyes wide with curiosity. Fiona’s heart pounded with anticipation. It was haunting that Harry had discovered a woman’s body in the woods… considering he had also been found dead the same way.
"Sorry, I don't know much else," Travis replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't around, and Harry didn't talk about it much. I just know it really shook him up.”
Fiona nodded, exchanging an intense look with Jake. They knew what they needed to do—find the police report about this incident.
Maybe it was what would finally tie all of this together.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Back at the precinct, Fiona and Jake settled into the briefing room, their laptops open and ready for a deep dive. Fiona's fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the edge of her laptop as she searched for more information about Harry's encounter in the woods.
"Anything yet?" Jake asked, his eyes scanning his own screen as he browsed through police records.
"Give me a sec," Fiona replied, her heart racing with anticipation. She knew they were onto something important – she could feel it in her bones.
Finally, she found what she was looking for: an incident report about Harry calling the police three years ago after discovering a woman's body in the woods. Her name was Matilda Black. Fiona furrowed her brow, trying to place why that name felt familiar. As she read further, her pulse quickened.
The officer who'd first responded to the scene was none other than Chris Pinter, the latest murder victim.
"Jake," Fiona said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I found something."
"Show me," he replied, leaning over to look at her screen.
"Harry found this woman, Matilda Black, in the woods three years ago," Fiona explained, pointing to the incident report. "Chris Pinter was the responding officer."
"Whoa," Jake breathed, his face pale. "That can't be a coincidence."
"No, it can't," Fiona agreed, her thoughts racing. Why did the name Matilda Black feel so familiar? She racked her brain, searching for any connection that might help them understand the link between the victims.
They kept scrolling the report until Jake said, “Stop.” His brow furrowed as he read the report over her shoulder. "Look. Nadine Howe was an EMT on that case," he said, the shock evident in his voice. "She was there when they found Matilda Black's body."
Fiona's heart raced, her mind attempting to process the enormity of what they'd discovered. The connection between the victims was becoming clearer by the second. She needed to know more.
Fiona couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she knew more about the Matilda Black case than she could remember. Diving deeper into the report, she found a series of crime scene photos buried within the file. As she clicked through them, her hands began to tremble.
