The next morning was gray and damp. Ramis arrived at the precinct a little after eight, carrying a coffee from the shop near his apartment. His knee was still sore, but the swelling had gone down thanks to Sophia's bandage and his mother's constant reminders to rest it.
Marcus was already at his desk, reading through overnight reports. He looked up when Ramis walked in.
"Morning, son. Clara Voss's autopsy is back. Same cause as the others — Elysium-9. No struggle, no defensive wounds. She had dinner alone, poured herself a glass of wine, and… smiled her way out."
Ramis sat down across from him. "Any connection to Lila Voss?"
"None that we can find yet. Different family, different social circle. But the name is too close to ignore." Marcus rubbed his eyes. "Reed is asking to speak with you specifically today. Says he remembered something small."
They went to the interrogation room together. Reed looked pale and restless, his hands clasped tightly on the table.
"You wanted to talk to me?" Ramis asked, pulling out a chair.
Reed nodded. "Yesterday I remembered something. The Dream Weaver once mentioned a favorite hospital. She said it had the best records for finding 'tired souls.' She didn't name it, but she talked about how easy it was to access patient files there."
Ramis leaned forward. "Which hospital?"
"I don't know. But she sounded proud of it. Like she knew the place well."
Marcus wrote it down. "We'll check every major hospital's staff and access logs. It's a start."
After the short interview, Ramis walked back to the bullpen with his father.
"Two killers," Ramis said quietly. "One who picks the victims carefully, one who likes leaving pretty notes. They're working as a team, but the Dream Weaver seems to be the one in control."
Marcus nodded. "We need to find the connection between them. Crowe is still refusing to talk. Maybe we can use Reed to pressure him."
The morning passed with more paperwork and cross-checking. Around 11:30, Ramis's phone buzzed. It was Sophia.
Sophia: Good morning. How's the knee today? I have a long shift but I'm free for a quick call if you want to talk.
Ramis stepped into the quiet hallway and called her back. She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey," Sophia said, her voice warm and a little tired. "You actually called. I thought you might be too busy."
"I needed a break from staring at files," Ramis replied. "Knee is better. Thanks again for the bandage. How's your shift going?"
"Busy. Three car accidents already this morning. People drive like crazy when it rains." She paused. "Did you find out anything new about the case?"
Ramis hesitated, but something made him share a little. "We confirmed there are two people involved. One who chooses the victims — they call her the Dream Weaver. The other is the Sandman, the one who leaves the notes and makes it look like a story."
There was a short silence on the line.
"Interesting," Sophia said softly. "The Dream Weaver sounds like she thinks she's doing something kind. Choosing people who are suffering quietly. Do you think she really believes that?"
"Maybe," Ramis answered. "Reed said she sees it as mercy. But it's still murder."
Sophia let out a small sigh. "It's scary how someone can twist kindness into something dark. Be careful, Ramis. If she's as smart as you say, she might already know you're getting close."
"Yeah… that's what worries me," he admitted. "She called me again last night. Sounded like she was having fun with all of this."
"Creepy," Sophia said. "Listen, I have to go back to my patients soon, but if you need to talk later — even at midnight — just text me. Okay?"
"Okay. Thanks, Sophia."
"Take care of yourself."
The call ended. Ramis stood in the hallway for a moment, staring at his phone. Her concern felt genuine, but the way she asked questions about the Dream Weaver kept bothering him.
Back in the bullpen, Ruiz waved him over.
"We got something," Ruiz said. "One of the victims, Thomas Hale, had an appointment at Central Hospital two weeks before he died. The same hospital where Lila Voss was treated after she got shot."
Marcus joined them. "Central Hospital keeps coming up. We should look at their staff — especially anyone who has access to patient records."
Ramis felt his stomach tighten slightly. Sophia worked at Central Hospital.
The rest of the day moved slowly. They pulled staff lists and began background checks. Nothing jumped out immediately, but Ramis kept thinking about Sophia's gentle hands, her calm voice, and how easily she seemed to understand the Dream Weaver's mindset.
In the late afternoon, another white card arrived at the station — delivered by courier with no return address. The note was short:
"Four dreams delivered safely.
More tired souls are waiting.
— The Sandman"
Marcus read it and passed it to Ramis. "He's getting bolder. The Dream Weaver picks them, and the Sandman delivers the show."
Ramis nodded but didn't say much. He spent the rest of the evening helping organize the new information.
When he finally left the precinct around 8 PM, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets wet and shiny. He drove home thinking about everything they had learned.
Two different people.
One who chose victims with care.
One who enjoyed the performance.
And a woman with warm hazel eyes who kept offering to listen whenever he needed to talk.
Ramis parked his car outside his apartment building and sat there for a minute, listening to the quiet hum of the city.
The pieces were slowly coming together, even if he didn't like the picture they were forming.