Our Secrets

CHAPTER 2

"Curiosity may unveil the beauty of knowledge, but it also opens the door to the unpredictable storms of the unknown."

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MICHIGAN, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION.

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Five years.

Five long years without a break in the Palamon case.

I leaned back in my chair, kicking one leg over the other. The Chief had warned me to drop it, but what about the Osage murders? Or the Bonnie and Clyde case?

They didn't rest, and neither would I.

Five years ago, my son was born. Five years ago, I stumbled upon the mysterious death of Mare Palamon, a case with no body,no blood, not even a trace that she was actually dead.

Finch's voice interrupted my thoughts, causing me to turn towards him. His towering figure dominated the room, casting a shadow, and his brown hair clashed with his brown eyes.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Yeah?"

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he tossed me a package, "This arrived for you. I don't want to tease, but it might have something to do with that old case you can't let go of."

I rolled my eyes, catching the package, "Yeah, one can hope. Thanks, Finch."

He nodded and walked off. I traced my fingers along the white packaging, examining the carefully traced letters. As I tore it open, I couldn't shake the feeling that this might be the break I needed.

FOR NAIMOI KALLIS- FBI AGENCY MICHIGAN, DETROIT, CLASSIFIED.

"Naomi," Alastor's voice broke through my revisions, making me pause. "I couldn't help but notice your dedication to the Palamon case. Maybe it's time to let go and focus on what's in front of you."

I shot him a stern look, "I don't need advice, especially from the new guy."

He chuckled, undeterred, "Fair enough. But maybe you need a fresh perspective. Together, we could crack this case wide open."

My attention was abruptly pulled away from my computer screen by the shrill ring, and my eyes narrowed at the cryptic message that flashed across it:

5URPR153.

The bold letters intrigued me, and I repeated the sequence aloud, trying to decipher its meaning. My attempts to trace it led to multiple pinged locations, scattering my focus.

Summoning multiple units to investigate each location, I set the phone down, perplexed. I ran a hand through my short black hair, a habitual gesture of mine, before retrieving a box cutter from my drawer. The blade sliced through the package with a satisfying sound, revealing a book-shaped object inside. Nonchalantly tossing the discarded packaging into the trash can, I stared at the book, realizing it was a journal.

The words "Mare Palamon" adorned the brown cover.

Her name.

Tracing my hand across the journal, I furrowed my brow, bewildered by its sudden appearance and why it hadn't arrived five years ago. Or even four. Glancing at today's date, nothing remarkable crossed my mind, except for the fact that it had been precisely five years since the case first landed on my desk.

Coincidence?

I contemplated the mysterious circumstances, the lingering uncertainty about Mare Palamon's disappearance, and the unsettling arrival of the journal. It felt like a carefully orchestrated puzzle, pieces falling into place after years of silence. The unanswered questions echoed in my mind, urging me to delve into the enigma once more.