Eldric showed Alina a folded piece of paper, yellowed at the edges. "If you want to know the truth, come find me," it read.
"Wait a minute," Alina said, narrowing her eyes. "Where did you get this?"
"From the third victim," Eldric replied, voice low.
"But... why wasn't it in the files?"
"There was a witness in that case—a drunk man. Said he saw someone in a coat abandon the body inside that building."
Alina straightened. "Were there any accomplices?"
"No," Eldric said, shaking his head. "The man was alone. The witness passed out after seeing him. Reported it the next day, but no one believed him at first. Only later did we match the location with the coordinates from the culprit."
"And the witness?"
"He vanished. For five days, nothing. Then they found his body in a hotel room. Stabbed nine times. No trace of the killer. CCTV was being repaired that day."
Alina's expression hardened. "So the higher-ups covered it up?"
"Yes. Everyone who knew—especially the officers—they were silenced for negligence."
She studied the letter again. "Do you have any idea what it means?"
"Not yet. We suspected the TNS group, but I doubt they'd kill civilians. Until yesterday, we had nothing."
"Thanks for telling me," Alina said, slipping the letter into a plastic evidence sleeve.
"You can call me if you want to discuss more. I'll help in any way I can."
"Alright. I'll let you know."
---
Alina sat at her desk, staring at the monitor as the cursor blinked on a half-finished report. A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in," she called.
Eldric stepped in. "Thanks."
"Is it appropriate to keep quiet about the victims' connections?"
She sighed. "We haven't confirmed anything yet. We need to stay discreet. That's actually why I called you here. I'd like you to retrieve files related to the bereaved families of the xxx business complex fire. There might be more threads connecting these victims. For now, keep this between us."
Eldric gave a nod. "That's exactly what I intended to do."
"Good. If you find anything, alert me immediately. And please—ask the relatives of the last victim about the incident from ten years ago."
"Understood."
"Thank you, Eldric."
---
The road to the victim's family home was long and congested. Eldric stared out the window of the public transport, rehearsing what he needed to ask.
When he arrived, the victim's aunt opened the door, eyes red and swollen.
"My condolences for your loss. We're doing everything we can to find those responsible," Eldric said gently.
"Thank you so much for coming," she managed between sobs.
Her husband joined her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "He was such a sweet and diligent boy."
"Can you tell me about the incident from ten years ago?" Eldric asked.
"It was a hot summer," the aunt began. "He had gone to the arcade nearby. A man approached him and claimed to be a friend of his parents. We warned him to stay away, but the next day he returned to the arcade—and never came back. He was just fifteen. We waited all night. Looked everywhere. Nothing."
The uncle retrieved a card from a drawer, weathered but intact. "This was all we had. The man left it. Just a name."
Eldric examined the card. A single name printed in crisp, elegant lettering: John Doe.
"Did you report this?"
"We did. But there were too many people with that name. Records were outdated. It was hopeless."
Eldric studied the card. Its texture was rich, heavier than a normal card. Expensive.
"May I keep this? I'll look into it further."
"Of course."
"Thank you. This card… it's unusual. Not something an average man would carry. I'll be in touch."
He left the house with the card in hand, a strange weight settling in his chest. Something about this name—this texture—felt familiar in a way he couldn't place.