The journey to North Yorkshire began just after sunrise.
Emma drove while soft music played through the car speakers, filling the silence that occasionally settled between the three women.
Sophia, seated in the back beside Adeline, stretched her legs with a smile.
"I still can't believe you talked me into this road trip."
Adeline laughed.
"You volunteered."
"I was emotionally manipulated."
Emma chuckled.
"No, you wanted an excuse to escape London for a few days."
Sophia pretended to be offended.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
The three women burst into laughter.
For a brief moment, the assignment no longer felt dangerous.
It felt like an adventure.
—
Nearly an hour later, Sophia's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her smile faded.
"It's Richard."
Emma lowered the volume.
"Answer it."
Sophia picked up immediately.
"Good morning, Richard."
Her expression gradually became more serious.
"I understand."
"…Yes."
"…I'll head back straight away."
She ended the call with a sigh.
"What happened?" Adeline asked.
"Plans have changed."
She gave them an apologetic smile.
"A breaking story has just landed in London. Richard needs me back at the office immediately."
Emma frowned.
"Seriously?"
"I'm afraid so."
Sophia looked at Adeline.
"I wanted to be there with you."
"I know."
Adeline squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"Work comes first."
"You'll come back once you're done?"
"If Richard doesn't bury me under paperwork."
The mood in the car softened again.
Emma pulled into the next service station.
Sophia arranged a taxi back toward London.
Before leaving, she hugged Adeline tightly.
"Be careful."
"I always am."
Sophia raised an eyebrow.
"I've known you long enough to know that's not entirely true."
Adeline smiled.
"I'll call you."
"You'd better."
As the taxi disappeared down the motorway, Emma climbed back behind the wheel.
"Looks like it's just us now."
Adeline watched until the taxi vanished from sight.
Something about the farewell lingered with her longer than she expected.
—
Several cars behind them…
A black Range Rover maintained its distance.
Jarvis glanced at his brother.
"You've hardly spoken since we left."
Dwayne kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"I just need to know she's safe."
Jarvis nodded.
"And we'll make sure she is."
Neither of them noticed the tension in the other's silence.
For the first time in years…
The past no longer felt far away.
It felt as though it was waiting for them at the end of the road.
—
By late afternoon, the rolling hills of North Yorkshire came into view.
Stone cottages lined the winding roads.
Ancient church towers rose above clusters of trees.
Emma smiled.
"It's beautiful."
"It is," Adeline replied quietly.
"But it feels… heavy."
The closer they drew to the town, the more police vehicles they saw.
The assignment suddenly became very real.
Outside the local police headquarters, journalists from across the country had already gathered.
Emma parked the car.
"You ready?"
Adeline took a slow breath.
"I hope so."
Together, they stepped toward the building, unaware that, from across the street, two familiar figures watched from inside a parked vehicle.
Dwayne lowered the brim of his cap.
"I can't let her see me."
Jarvis looked at him.
"Then don't."
"I'll stay close to her."
"I'll tell her I'm here on work."
Dwayne finally met his brother's eyes.
"Thank you."
Jarvis gave a small smile.
"You don't have to thank me."
"She's family."
For the first time since leaving London, Dwayne allowed himself to believe Adeline wouldn't be facing North Yorkshire alone.
Police Headquarters buzzed with activity.
Detective Inspector Hawthorne stood before a large evidence board.
Photographs.
Maps.
Timelines.
Victim profiles.
Nothing connected.
Yet somehow…
Everything did.
An officer entered hurriedly.
"Sir."
"The London Chronicle reporters are here."
Hawthorne nodded.
"Send them in."
Moments later, Adeline and Emma stepped into the conference room.
Hawthorne immediately recognised her name.
"Mrs. Davies."
Adeline looked surprised.
"You know my husband?"
"A businessman like Dwayne Davies is difficult not to know."
His expression remained unreadable.
"But today, we're here to discuss murder."
He gestured toward the evidence board.
"We'll allow limited media access."
"But if I tell you to leave a crime scene…"
"You leave."
"Understood?"
Adeline nodded.
"Understood."
As she turned toward the board…
Her eyes stopped on one photograph.
An old academy crest.
Blackthorn Academy.
The name stirred something she couldn't explain.
Before she could ask…
A loud knock echoed through the room.
An officer burst inside, visibly shaken.
"Sir…"
"We've got another body."
The room froze.
"Where?"
"St. Bartholomew's Church."
"And…"
The officer swallowed.
"There's identification."
Hawthorne grabbed his coat.
"Let's move."
The ancient church stood behind rows of weathered gravestones.
Blue emergency lights flashed silently against the stone walls.
Police officers held reporters behind the barriers.
Adeline and Emma watched from the designated press area.
Hawthorne ducked beneath the tape.
The body lay inside the churchyard.
Covered.
A wallet rested beside one outstretched hand.
A forensic officer looked up.
"We've confirmed his identity."
Hawthorne nodded.
"Who is he?"
The officer hesitated.
"Father Ethan Goodman, the priest"
Time seemed to stop.
Across the crowd, another vehicle had just arrived.
Dwayne stepped out.
Behind him came Jarvis.
Neither had expected to arrive this way.
The moment Dwayne heard the name…
The color drained from his face.
Father Goodman
The Priest who wedded him and Adeline
His father's trusted friend.
"No…"
The word escaped in a whisper.
Jarvis caught his brother before he stumbled forward.
"Dwayne."
"No…"
Dwayne stared beyond the police tape.
"He wasn't supposed to be here."
"He wasn't supposed to die."
Jarvis followed his gaze.
Near Father Goodman's body…
Someone had carefully placed a white envelope.
Hawthorne noticed it too.
"Don't touch it," he ordered.
A forensic technician carefully collected the envelope.
Inside was a single folded card.
Written in neat black ink were six chilling words.
He's dead now. Time is running.
Hawthorne read the message twice.
His instincts told him this murderer wasn't the same one he was investigating
Someone was trying to copy the killer's methods but had failed to convince him
"No rings"
"No flirty messages"
"This wasn't the killer or better still, this wasn't an important victim to him"
And somewhere beyond the crowd…
Hidden among the growing number of onlookers…
A pair of unseen eyes watched Dwayne's reaction with quiet satisfaction.
Exactly as planned.