Jack Mercer
is a rugged private investigator in his mid-thirties, known for his relentless pursuit of the truth in cold cases that the police have failed to solve. With dark black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a signature leather jacket paired with...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The next morning, Jack woke up with the same weight on his shoulders—the pressure of the case hanging over him, and the growing sense that time was running out to bring Lana Garrison's cold case to a resolution. He had spent hours the night before reviewing the witness statements, and yet, the key detail that could break the case wide open still eluded him.
With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Jack stepped into his office, a cup of black coffee in hand. The clutter from the night before greeted him like an old friend—case files, photographs, notes—all scattered across his desk in a haphazard array. He set the coffee down and stared at the mess for a moment before picking up one of the witness statements again.
As Jack scanned the page, he noticed something he had overlooked before—a small inconsistency in one of the statements. A witness had described seeing a woman near the alley where Lana had been found. She mentioned that the woman had been arguing with someone, but no follow-up questions had ever been asked. That lead had been dropped without much thought.
He pulled out the corresponding police report and flipped through the details. There was no mention of this woman, no further description. Jack frowned and scribbled down a note—he needed to track this witness down and re-interview her. If this woman had seen something that night, she could hold the key to unlocking what really happened to Lana.
Jack leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. His phone buzzed on the desk, breaking his focus. He glanced at the screen—it was Danny.
"Hey," Jack answered, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Jack, I've been going through the forensics on the case," Danny's voice was calm but with a hint of something deeper—anticipation, maybe. "I'm not done yet, but I found something you'll want to see."
Jack sat up a little straighter, the weight of his exhaustion lifting slightly. "What did you find?"
"There's an old piece of fabric that was found at the scene—didn't seem significant back then, but with modern analysis, we were able to extract some partial DNA from it," Danny said. "It's not enough for a full profile yet, but it's a start. I'll send over the report for you to look at."
"That's great," Jack replied, feeling a flicker of hope. "Anything else?"
"Not yet, but I'm still working through everything. I'll let you know if anything else comes up," Danny said.
"Thanks, Danny. Keep me posted."
As Jack hung up, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Between the inconsistency in the witness statement and Danny's progress with the forensics, the case was starting to move forward. Slowly, but steadily.
Jack grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, his mind already racing with the next steps. He needed to track down the witness who mentioned the woman in the alley, and with Danny working on the forensic evidence, there was finally momentum.
The first stop was the address listed for the witness, though Jack wasn't sure if she still lived there. It had been over three decades since she gave her original statement, and people moved, memories faded. But he had to try.
The house was modest, a small one-story on the outskirts of town. The yard was overgrown, with weeds creeping up through cracks in the sidewalk. The paint on the house was peeling, giving it a weathered, neglected look. The mailbox hung crookedly on its post, and the windows were dim with grime. Jack could hear the faint rustle of trees in the wind, adding to the quiet, almost isolated atmosphere surrounding the property.
Jack knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood. After a few moments, the door creaked open, and an older woman peeked out, her face lined with age.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice cautious.
"Hi, I'm Jack Mercer, a private investigator," Jack said, showing his ID. "I'm looking into an old case, the Lana Garrison case. You gave a statement about it years ago."
The woman's expression softened slightly, though her eyes remained wary. "That was a long time ago."
"I know," Jack said gently. "But there's a detail in your statement about a woman you saw in the alley that night. I was hoping you could tell me more about that."
The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking down to the ground. "I don't remember much. It was dark, and it all happened so fast."
"Anything you remember could help," Jack urged. "Even the smallest detail."
She opened the door a little wider, stepping back. "You'd better come inside."
Jack stepped over the threshold and into the small, cluttered living room. The air was heavy with the scent of old furniture and dust. Faded wallpaper clung to the walls, and stacks of magazines were piled in the corners. The couch, though worn and sagging, was neatly covered with a crocheted blanket, a sign that the woman still tried to keep things tidy despite the age and wear of the place.
The woman motioned for him to sit, and they both took a seat on the couch.
"I didn't think anyone would ever ask about that night again," she said, her voice low. "I've tried to put it behind me, but I remember seeing her. A woman, young—arguing with someone. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked tense. The man she was with was tall, but that's all I can recall."
Jack nodded, scribbling down notes. "Anything else about the woman? Did you get a good look at her?"
The woman shook her head. "Not really. She was wearing a dark coat, I think. That's all I can remember. I wish I could help more."
Jack thanked her and stood to leave, but as he turned toward the door, the woman spoke again. "It's been years, but sometimes I wonder... if I had said something sooner, maybe..."
Jack turned back to her, his expression softening. "You did what you could. Now, it's my job to figure out the rest."
As Jack walked back to his car, he glanced at his watch and realized it was still early in the evening. He decided it was the perfect time to stop by Sarah's apartment to bring her up to speed on the case. Between Danny's findings and this new lead, he felt they were finally getting somewhere, and he wanted her in the loop.
Sliding into the Camaro, Jack started the engine and pointed the car toward Sarah's place, ready to share what he had uncovered.
