ONE LAST TIME

Unveiling Secrets (pt 4)

A blood-curdling scream shattered the fragile silence of the office hallway, leaving everyone in a state of shock. My heart pounded in my chest as I exchanged an alarmed glance with Atlas, and we both instinctively headed in the direction of the commotion. The urgency in the scream left no room for hesitation, and the fear it instilled hung heavy in the air.

We sped down the narrow corridor. The scream had come from the women's washroom. My mind raced as I reached the door, and without a second thought, I pushed it open. What I was met with inside was a scene of sheer panic. A female employee, her face a portrait of pure terror, stood before the mirror. Her trembling hand was outstretched, pointing to a message etched in bold crimson letters, a message that sent shivers down my spine. The word "Emma" was written in what could only be blood. The walls seemed to close in on me as dread took hold of my heart.

As I let the chilling truth sink in, a wave of fear washed over me. The message I had received was not just a random taunt or a casual warning; it was a direct threat aimed at me. I realized in that moment that this was no longer just an ordinary case that I could detach myself from. It had transformed into a personal vendetta, and the lines between our professional struggle and my individual safety had become blurred. The gravity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks, and I found myself frozen in terror. Searching for something to anchor my racing thoughts, my eyes landed on the security camera positioned outside the washroom, dutifully monitoring people's entry and exit. A spark of hope flickered within me. Maybe, just maybe, the answers I desperately needed lay in the realm of that footage. I turned to Atlas, "We should check the CC TV footage" and he nodded in response. 

Without hesitation, we headed to the security room. Inside, the wall was lined with monitors displaying the entry and exit of employees. We knew that checking the footage was our best chance at identifying the intruder. An electric tension hung in the air as we carefully navigated through the footage, our fingers expertly manipulating the controls. The seconds on the clock seemed to tick by annoyingly slow as we rewound the recordings to the approximate time the spine-chilling scream had shattered the silent atmosphere. With bated breath, we scanned each screen, our eyes darting back and forth in search of any hint, any clue that could lead us to the perpetrator. And then, there it was, like a needle in a haystack. A man cloaked in a black hoodie, the intruder stood ominously at the entrance of the washroom. It was clear that their intention was to remain incognito, as the hood was pulled low, casting a shadowy veil over their face. Slow, deliberate movements indicated a conscious effort to evade detection, to avoid the penetrating gaze of the ever-watchful cameras.

 A cold shiver ran down my spine as I leaned in closer, my eyes locked onto this mysterious figure. It became undeniably apparent that this was no ordinary employee innocently going about their daily routine. It was a complete stranger.  The realization brought a knot of fear and unease to my stomach. Whispering in a hushed voice, barely audible in the charged atmosphere, I turned to my trusted companion Atlas. "That's the person responsible for this,"

As frustration continued to build, we repeatedly rewound the footage, desperate to find even the slightest hint that would shed light on the identity of the intruder. Yet, no matter how closely we scrutinized the video, the figure obstinately eluded us, always shrouded in mystery. The tension in the room palpably increased as we watched the unwelcome guest move about the premises with ease. We couldn't escape the feeling that there had to be some clue, some distinctive detail that would expose this interloper once and for all. 

 Just when our hopes started to dwindle, an astute employee caught our attention. His focused gaze never wavering from the monitor, he abruptly broke the silence. "I know that hoodie," he declared, causing the room to turn towards him in anticipation. He continued with a sense of confidence, "It's a limited edition piece released by Fujjio, a trendy brand. They only put out five of those hoodies a month ago." In that moment, my heartbeat quickened, and a flicker of hope ignited within me. Finally, we had stumbled upon a significant lead, a potential connection that could lead us to unravel the killer.