SOUL

murder weapon

Mary's phone buzzed, cutting through the stillness of her apartment. She glanced at the screen, her heart sinking when she saw the name.

Detective Harris.

She hesitated, knowing this wasn't going to be pleasant, but she answered anyway.

"What do you want?" Harris's voice snapped through the line, already aggressive, like he was spoiling for a fight.

"I need to talk to you about the Jane Williams case," Mary said, keeping her voice as calm as she could. "I know where the murder weapon is, and I want to show you."

"Who's your source?" he demands

"Nobody Harris" she snaps "I want to show you where the knife is"

There was a pause, then a harsh, humorless laugh. "You? Why should I waste my breath listening to anything you have to say? You think you can just call up and throw out wild claims like this? I've had enough of your bullshit."

Mary's hand tightened around the phone. "I'm serious. I know where the knife is. It's hidden behind the warehouse, buried next to the rose bushes. I can show you."

Harris's tone turned cold, cutting. "How the hell would you know that? You involved in this? Because the only way you'd know where the weapon is if you were involved. Maybe you're the one we should be looking at."

"I wasn't involved," Mary shot back, frustration bubbling up. "I've been home all night. You can ask my neighbors if you don't believe me."

"Oh, I will," Harris snarled. "You bet I will."

There was a tense silence, and then Mary spoke, her voice steady. "I can come to the scene and show you exactly where it is."

"Absolutely not," Harris snapped. "I want you as far away from the scene as possible. We don't need you contaminating evidence or interfering. If you're lying or messing with me, I will arrest you. Understand?"

Mary clenched her teeth, trying to keep her temper in check. "I just want to help," she said quietly, knowing it wouldn't make a difference.

"You're pushing it, Murphy," Harris said, his voice dripping with disdain. "This is your final warning."

Mary hung up the phone, her hands shaking with a mix of anger and fear. She knew Harris wouldn't believe her, but she had to try. She'd done her part—now it was up to them to find the knife and realize she wasn't just making things up.

---

In the early hours of the morning, Harris stood outside the warehouse, talking to Leo as officers moved in and out of the scene, processing evidence. He pulled out his phone and sighed, shaking his head. "You're not going to believe who just called," he said, voice filled with disdain.

"Who?" Leo asked, glancing up.

"The crazy medium lady I warned you about before—Marigold Murphy. She claims she knows where the murder weapon is." Harris scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Said it's buried behind the warehouse near the rose bushes. Sent a couple of deputies to check it out, just to shut her up."

Leo's eyes narrowed, his attention sharpening. "Murphy?" he repeated, the name making his stomach tighten. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure. "You're sure it was her?"

"Yeah, Marigold Murphy. Local nutcase. Always trying to insert herself into cases, saying she's got 'visions' or whatever." Harris shook his head. "Why, you know her or something?"

Leo didn't answer right away. He couldn't shake the sudden sense of dread that had washed over him when he heard her name. He had crossed paths with Marigold before, and though he wasn't entirely sure he believed in her supposed abilities, there was something about her—something unsettling but genuine—that had stuck with him. He had to see her, talk to her, and find out what she knew.

"Did you get an address for her?" Leo asked, his voice tight.

"Yeah, but why—"

"Give it to me," Leo cut him off, sharper than he intended. Harris raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He pulled out his notepad and read off the address.

Leo nodded, already moving toward his car. "I'm going to check on her."

"What, seriously?" Harris looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "We've got actual evidence to process here, and you're running off to chase down that kook?"

Leo turned, his expression grim. "You said you sent deputies to look for the knife, right? Let me know if they find it."

Harris grumbled something under his breath, but Leo didn't wait to hear it. He drove through the dark streets, the address Harris had given him burned into his mind. As he pulled up to the modest, slightly rundown house, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to find out something he wasn't ready for. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He tried again, louder this time, but the house remained silent.

Leo cursed under his breath and headed around the side of the house, peering into the windows. No lights, no movement—nothing to suggest anyone was home. He took out his phone and called the precinct. "Get someone to check Marigold Murphy's place again. She's not here."

He waited, pacing back and forth, his nerves on edge. When the call came in from Harris nearly an hour later, Leo answered it on the first ring. "Did you find the knife?"

Harris's tone was begrudging, annoyed, but there was a hint of surprise. "Yeah. Just where she said it'd be. Buried next to the damn rose bushes. Lucky guess."

Leo's grip on the phone tightened. "This isn't a joke, Harris. I need you to tell me everything she said, word for word."

"Seriously?" Harris snapped. "She didn't say much. Just claimed she knew where it was, wanted to 'help' or whatever. You're not actually buying into her crap, are you?"

"Give me her work address," Leo said, ignoring the question. "I need to find her."

Harris sighed heavily, as if he was getting tired of indulging him. "Fine. But you're wasting your time." He rattled off the address.

Leo hung up, his mind racing. He didn't know what to make of it, but if Marigold had truly known where the knife was, there was more going on here than Harris or anyone else was willing to admit. And if she was right about that, then maybe, just maybe, she had more answers—answers he needed.

He drove to the second location, but when he arrived, it was the same story. No sign of Marigold, no indication of where she might have gone. Leo leaned against his car, staring out into the night, trying to piece it all together. Whatever was happening, Marigold Murphy was at the center of it, and he was going to find her, even if it meant chasing ghosts.