The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Ava Sinclair reached her apartment building. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped into the dimly lit lobby, her boots echoing against the tile floor. The day had been long, and her mind was still tangled in the details of the Nathan Cole case. The call, his voice—it all gnawed at the edges of her thoughts.
She reached her mailbox, turning the key with little thought. Bills, advertisements, the usual junk. But as she sifted through the stack, her fingers stopped on something different. A small, unmarked envelope. No return address. No postage. Just a single red 'A' inked onto the front.
Ava's pulse quickened.
She glanced around the lobby. Empty. The security camera in the corner blinked lazily, its lens reflecting a dull light. She swallowed and slipped the envelope into her coat pocket before heading upstairs.
Inside her apartment, she locked the door behind her, double-checking it before flipping on the lights. The space felt colder than usual, though she knew that was just her nerves playing tricks on her. Still, she hesitated before pulling the envelope out and setting it on the kitchen counter.
For a long moment, she just stared at it. Then, with a steadying breath, she picked it up and tore it open.
A single photograph slid out onto the counter.
Her apartment. Her window. Taken from outside.
The blood drained from her face. The angle was precise, just slightly off-center—someone had been watching her, close enough to see inside. The picture wasn't grainy, wasn't rushed. It was deliberate.
Her hands tightened around the paper. She spun around, staring at the curtains that covered her windows. Had they been open last night? Had she noticed anything unusual?
A chill ran down her spine.
Her phone buzzed on the table, shattering the silence. She grabbed it, barely glancing at the screen before answering.
"Sinclair," she said, her voice sharper than intended.
"Detective, it's Carter," her partner's voice came through, steady but edged with concern. "You okay? You sound off."
Ava exhaled slowly, her fingers still gripping the photo. "Yeah. Just tired. What's up?"
"Something about the Cole case. We need to talk. Face to face."
She hesitated. "How urgent?"
"You'll want to see this," Carter said. "Meet me at the station in twenty."
Ava stared at the photograph again before folding it neatly and slipping it back into the envelope. "I'll be there."
She hung up, grabbed her keys, and took one last look at the window before stepping out into the night.
Someone had been there. Watching her. Leaving her messages.
And she had a feeling this was only the beginning.
---
Ava's grip on the steering wheel was tight as she drove through the near-empty streets, her mind racing. She had dealt with threats before. As a detective, it came with the territory. But this was different. This wasn't a warning or a taunt—this was intimate. Whoever left that envelope had been close enough to take that picture, close enough to see inside her home.
As she pulled into the station parking lot, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Carter was waiting just inside, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto her as she stepped through the door.
"You look like hell," he said, handing her a coffee.
"Feel like it too," she muttered, taking a sip. "What have you got?"
Carter motioned for her to follow him to the evidence room. He pulled out a file and laid it on the table. Inside were surveillance photos from the night of Nathan Cole's murder—dark figures, indistinct but moving with purpose.
"We ran enhancements on the security footage from the alley near Cole's apartment," he said, pointing at one of the images. "We've got someone in a long coat, about six feet, watching the building for almost an hour before Cole's death. They were careful, but not invisible."
Ava studied the image. The figure was just a shadow, but something about the posture, the patience—it sent a shiver through her.
"No face?" she asked.
"Not yet," Carter admitted. "But we're working on it."
Ava leaned back, tapping her fingers against the table. "I think I'm being watched."
Carter's expression hardened. "What do you mean?"
She pulled the envelope from her coat pocket and handed it to him. "This was in my mailbox tonight."
He frowned, pulling out the photograph. "Damn."
"Whoever this is, they're not just playing with us. They want me to know they're there."
Carter exhaled sharply. "We need to get you somewhere safe. You shouldn't be alone right now."
Ava shook her head. "I'm not running. If they're watching, they want a reaction. I'm not giving them one."
Carter rubbed his jaw. "Then we do it our way. We set a trap."
Ava's lips curled into a grim smile. "Now you're talking."
---
That night, back at her apartment, Ava forced herself to go about her routine as if nothing was wrong. She left a single lamp on, moved around the living room, played music at a normal volume. But every so often, she glanced toward the window, knowing that someone—somewhere—might be watching.
She set her phone on the counter, the screen still showing a message from Carter. 'We'll get him. Be careful.'
Ava sighed and poured herself a drink, pretending not to notice the way her hand trembled slightly as she raised the glass to her lips.
Then she walked to the window. Slowly, deliberately, she reached out and pulled the curtain shut.
If they wanted a game, she'd give them one.