The Art Of Death

Chapter 3: A Deeper Connection

Scene 1: Digging into the Case

Setting: The precinct, Ethan's office. A storm brews outside, casting long shadows across the room. Papers are strewn across Ethan's desk as he digs deeper into the case, connecting his father's old notes with the current investigation.

Ethan sat in his office, staring at the crime scene photos from the latest murder. His father's old case file lay open beside them, the symbol connecting the two cases staring back at him like a haunting specter. He had spent hours comparing every detail, looking for any clues he might have missed.

His mind kept drifting back to the man in the precinct. Who was he? How did he know about his father's investigation, and why had he warned him to back off? Questions circled in Ethan's head like vultures, waiting for answers.

The sound of footsteps snapped him back to reality. Marcus entered the room, holding a cup of coffee and raising an eyebrow at the mess on Ethan's desk.

"You still on this?" Marcus asked, placing the coffee down. "You look like you haven't slept."

Ethan rubbed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him. "There's something here, Marcus. This symbol...it's not a coincidence. I found it in my dad's old case files. He was investigating similar murders, and now I think the same person is back."

Marcus's expression shifted from skepticism to concern. "You think this is connected to your dad's death?"

Ethan nodded slowly. "Yeah. The way these women were killed, the symbols...and there's more. I was warned off the case this morning. Some guy in a trench coat, he knew things about my father's death. Said if I didn't walk away, I'd regret it."

Marcus leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "You sure it's not some crackpot trying to mess with you? We've had people like that before."

"Maybe," Ethan admitted. "But my gut's telling me there's more to it. This case, it's personal. Whoever this killer is...they're toying with me. And I need to find out why."

Marcus was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he sighed. "Alright. Let's say you're right. What's your next move?"

Ethan pulled out his father's case file, pointing to a name that appeared multiple times. "My dad interviewed a few suspects before he was killed. One of them—Daniel Cross—was a prime suspect, but they never had enough to hold him. I want to pay him a visit."

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "You think this guy might be involved?"

"If nothing else, he might know more than he let on back then," Ethan said. "It's worth a shot."

Marcus nodded. "Alright. Let's go pay Mr. Cross a visit."

Scene 2: An Old Suspect

Setting: The home of Daniel Cross, a dilapidated house on the edge of town. Overgrown weeds choke the front yard, and the house looks like it hasn't been cared for in years. It's quiet, too quiet.

Ethan and Marcus pulled up to the house, their unmarked car blending in with the shadows cast by the fading light. The neighborhood was desolate, the kind of place people went to be forgotten.

"This place gives me the creeps," Marcus muttered, stepping out of the car.

Ethan glanced at the house. He felt it too, a strange sense of foreboding lingering in the air. But he couldn't afford to let fear slow him down. He needed answers.

They approached the front door, and Ethan knocked. The sound echoed hollowly, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing Daniel Cross. He was older now, his face lined with age and his eyes sunken. But there was still something sharp about him, something dangerous.

"Can I help you?" Cross asked, his voice gravelly.

Ethan flashed his badge. "Detectives Ford and Gray. We'd like to ask you a few questions about a case."

Cross's eyes flicked to Ethan's badge, then back to his face. He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Detective Ford, huh? You wouldn't happen to be related to Robert Ford, would you?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "He was my father."

Cross chuckled darkly. "Figures. I always knew he had a kid. You look just like him."

Ethan fought to keep his composure. "Mind if we come in?"

Cross shrugged and stepped aside, letting them into the house. Inside, the air was musty, and the furniture was covered in dust. It didn't look like anyone had cleaned in months. They sat on a worn-out couch while Cross settled into an old armchair, eyeing them warily.

"So, what's this about?" Cross asked, lighting a cigarette.

Ethan pulled out the photos from the recent crime scenes, laying them on the coffee table in front of Cross. "Recognize these?"

Cross glanced at the photos, his expression unreadable. "Nope. Should I?"

Ethan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "My father was investigating similar murders before he died. You were a suspect back then. I think whoever's behind these killings is connected to his death. And I think you know more than you're letting on."

Cross took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. "Your old man was barking up the wrong tree. I had nothing to do with those murders, and I've got nothing to do with these."

Ethan wasn't convinced. "Then why did he suspect you?"

"Because he was desperate," Cross said with a sneer. "He was obsessed with finding the killer, but he was looking in the wrong places."

Marcus chimed in, his tone firm. "If you're innocent, why not cooperate? Help us clear your name."

Cross chuckled again, shaking his head. "Innocent or guilty doesn't matter. The truth is, your dad was too close to something big, something that got him killed. If you're smart, you'll walk away, Detective."

Ethan's fists clenched. "I'm not walking away."

Cross leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Then you're a dead man walking. Just like your father."

Scene 3: A New Lead

Setting: The precinct, later that night. Ethan and Marcus return after the tense encounter with Daniel Cross. Ethan can't shake the feeling that Cross knows more than he's saying, but he's hit a dead end.

Back at the precinct, Ethan sat at his desk, staring at the photos from the crime scenes. His mind raced, replaying the conversation with Cross over and over again. There was something in the way Cross had looked at him, something that made Ethan believe he was hiding something.

Marcus dropped into the chair across from him. "That guy was a real piece of work."

"Yeah," Ethan muttered, still lost in thought.

"You think he's our guy?"

Ethan shook his head slowly. "No. He's involved somehow, but he's not the killer. He knows something, though. I'm sure of it."

Marcus sighed. "So what now?"

Ethan looked up, determination burning in his eyes. "We keep digging. There's something bigger going on here. And I'm going to find out what."

As the night wore on, Ethan stayed at his desk, combing through every detail of the case. He was getting closer, he could feel it. But with every answer he found, more questions seemed to arise.

And one thought kept haunting him: the killer wasn't just targeting random victims. They were leaving a trail, leading him straight to the truth.