The Pale Lily

The Lead

Elara sat in the dimly lit room, the cold air brushing against her skin. The file on Isabelle Murdoch lay spread across the floor. For hours, she pored over every detail, searching for something, anything that might have been missed in the initial investigation. The police had done their job, filed their reports, and when the leads dried up, the case had been closed. But Elara knew better. There was always something hidden in the cracks.

As she flipped through the pages again, one small note caught her eye. Isabelle had last been seen near an old bar, just off of a quiet street on the edge of the city. The place was barely mentioned in the file—a footnote in a long list of failed leads. No follow-up interviews with staff, no surveillance footage, nothing.

“Did they even check the bar?” Elara muttered under her breath.

It didn’t make sense. A girl disappears right outside a seedy, run-down place like that, and nobody thought to dig deeper? Elara’s instincts flared. There was something there, something overlooked in the chaos of the original investigation.

For a moment, she allowed herself to hope. If she could uncover a lead, if she could find out what happened to Isabelle that night, it might be her ticket out of this nightmare. But as her mind raced, reality settled in: she was still Lysandra’s prisoner, playing a sick game with a maniac who held her life in her hands.

I need to tell her I have a lead, Elara thought, dread knotting in her stomach. She didn’t trust Lysandra, not for a second, but she had to play along. If Lysandra saw progress, maybe she’d loosen her grip. And if Elara played her cards right, she could turn the tables.

Elara stood up, the cold making her joints stiff. She walked to the heavy door at the far side of the room and knocked, the sound echoing in the eerie silence.

It didn’t take long for Lysandra to appear. The door creaked open, and there she was, her pale face framed by wild, white hair. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes glinted with curiosity.

“Already giving up, Detective?” Lysandra asked, her voice soft but with a mocking edge.

Elara shook her head, keeping her expression calm. “No. I might have something.”

Lysandra’s eyebrows rose, her interest clearly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

“There’s a bar, near where Isabelle was last seen. It’s mentioned briefly in the file, but no one seems to have followed up. It could be a lead—maybe someone there saw something, maybe there’s a connection that was missed.”

For a brief moment, Lysandra’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. It was so subtle, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Elara did. There was something about the bar that Lysandra hadn’t expected her to catch.

“Hmm,” Lysandra mused, her fingers tapping lightly against the doorframe. “A bar… I wonder.”

Elara felt her heart beat faster. Lysandra knew something, or at least she had a feeling about it. The game was shifting.

“Well, Detective,” Lysandra said, regaining her composure. “If you think it’s worth pursuing, I suppose you should investigate. After all, you’re here to solve the case, aren’t you?”

Elara’s breath caught. “You’ll let me leave?”

Lysandra laughed, the sound light but laced with menace. “Oh, I’ll let you go check it out. But don’t think for a second that you’re free. You’re still mine, Detective. I’ll be watching.”

Elara felt a mix of relief and dread. She was one step closer to the truth, but Lysandra wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

Lysandra leaned in closer, her breath cold against Elara’s skin. “And remember, if you try anything… well, let’s just say, I’ll have no problem finishing what we started.”

Elara swallowed hard, nodding. She knew the risks, but this was her only chance. If she could get to the bar, maybe she’d find the missing piece. Maybe she’d find Isabelle.

As Lysandra stepped back and opened the door wider, Elara felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She wasn’t walking out to freedom. She was still trapped in Lysandra’s web.

But at least now, she had a lead.

---

Elara left the crumbling mansion under the watchful eyes of Lysandra’s people. She knew they would be tailing her, but she didn’t care. Her focus was on the bar, on Isabelle’s last moments before she vanished.

The bar, Mason’s Den, was the kind of place most people avoided—a dilapidated dive with a flickering neon sign and grimy windows. It looked like a place where secrets could easily be buried.

Elara pushed open the door, the scent of stale beer and smoke greeting her. The few patrons inside barely looked up as she stepped in. The bartender, a grizzled man in his fifties, gave her a wary glance.

“I’m looking for some information,” Elara said as she approached the bar. “About a girl who went missing a few years ago. Isabelle Murdoch. She was last seen near here.”

The bartender’s face darkened at the mention of the name, but he quickly masked it. “Can’t say I remember. A lot of people come and go.”

Elara leaned in, lowering her voice. “This isn’t official business. I just need the truth. What happened here that night?”

The bartender’s eyes flicked to the back of the room, where a door led to what looked like a storage area. He hesitated before speaking. “You don’t want to go digging into this. It’s bad news. People who ask questions around here don’t usually like the answers they find.”

Elara felt the chill of his words settle over her. “I don’t have a choice.”

After a long pause, the bartender sighed and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “There was a girl, yeah. Redhead. She was here, but she wasn’t alone. Some guy came in with her—never seen him before, never saw him again. Looked like trouble, though. They argued in the back room. Next thing I know, they’re both gone, and she’s never seen again.”

Elara’s pulse quickened. “Who was he?”

The bartender shook his head. “Didn’t catch a name, but he wasn’t local. Slick, smooth-talking. Gave off a bad vibe.”

Elara’s mind raced. If this mysterious man had taken Isabelle, then maybe she wasn’t just a random victim. Maybe she had been targeted for a reason.

“Anything else?” she pressed.

The bartender hesitated again, his gaze shifting toward the back room. “There’s something… you should see for yourself. If you really want to know.”

Elara followed his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment settle on her. She had come this far, and now the truth was just beyond that door.

Without another word, she nodded and headed toward the back room, her heart pounding with anticipation. Whatever she was about to uncover, it was clear that this bar held more secrets than anyone had realized.

And Elara was about to expose them.