It had been seven months. Back then, John didn't understand his father's words as he stood frozen in that hallway. But now, everything was clear. His father was a messed-up man—someone who, when things went wrong because of him, simply ran away, leaving behind the people he had hurt.
Lizzy, John's sister, was still struggling. The day John had to explain everything to her broke something inside her. She'd fallen into a deep depression, and more than once, John had to talk her out of taking her own life. That day had shattered their normal lives and turned everything into chaos.
Isn't it insane how someone's whole world can fall apart in less than an hour?
As John closed the door of the house he had lived in all those years, his mind returned to the present.
"I need to find the one who did this," he whispered to himself.
He looked up. It was still dark.
"Makes sense, it's only 7 AM," he thought. Seven months ago, he wouldn't even be awake at this hour. But now, as a detective, he needed the extra time—not just for the case he'd been assigned, but also for the one that haunted him most: his mother's unsolved death.
John walked toward the street where his car was parked. It was unseasonably warm for January—15 degrees Celsius, something that didn't happen every year. When he opened the door of his Volvo , he was surprised to see Lizzy sitting in the passenger seat. She was tying her brown hair up in a bun, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie.
"Hey, what are you doing in my car?" John asked, startled.
Lizzy turned to him. Her brown eyes hesitated before she finally said, "I've been thinking about what you told me the other day."
"And what has that to do with you being in my car?" John asked, confused.
"You told me I should get out more, do something useful instead of staying home all the time," Lizzy replied. "So… I called your boss and asked if I could visit the station today. Maybe see if I can work there someday."
"And he agreed to that?" John raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. "Hmm-hmm."
John sighed. This wasn't what he meant by "do something," but arguing with Lizzy now wouldn't help. So he got into the car, started the engine, and began driving.
"So, uh… I'm almost done with the Ed Smith case. After I wrap it up, I can show you around the office," he said casually. He knew he couldn't risk bringing up their mother's case—not around her, not yet. He'd have to stay close at work to make sure no one else brought it up either.
"You had breakfast yet?" he asked, trying to shift the subject.
Just then, Lizzy's stomach growled.
He chuckled. "Guess that answers that."
Embarrassed, Lizzy shrank into her hoodie. "Okay, let's get some food."
---
They pulled into the parking lot of a roadside diner Lizzy had spotted on the way to the station. John stepped out of the car and walked toward what once had been a colorful building. Now, graffiti covered the walls, and overflowing trash bags hid the dumpsters out back.
He peered through the grimy windows. Inside, he saw a teenage girl with long blonde hair, wearing a stained apron and heading toward the bar. Behind it stood a man in his twenties, frowning at his phone while absentmindedly handing a tray with two sandwiches to the girl. At the far end sat an old man, glancing over his shoulder as the waitress approached him with his food.
"Not too busy in there," Lizzy remarked as she walked to the door.
John gave a small nod and followed. The door had a sign on it that probably said "OPEN," but it was too dirty to tell for sure. Lizzy slowly opened it, and they stepped inside.
The waitress turned around at the sound and smiled. "Sit wherever you like," she said in a calm voice.
Lizzy chose the table near the door, and John sat across from her.
"Not too shabby a place, is it?" Lizzy grinned.
John picked up a laminated menu from the wooden holder and smiled back. "Nope, it's fine by me."
There wasn't much to choose from: a sandwich, an omelet, or a slice of apple pie.
"I think I'll go with the apple pie. What about you?" Lizzy asked, flipping through her menu.
"I'll just take a sandwich," John said, signaling to the waitress that they were ready.
She approached them. "What'll it be?"
John closed his menu. "Just a sandwich for me, please."
"And a piece of apple pie for me," Lizzy added.
"Anything to drink?"
"Oh yeah, just water for both of us," John replied. Lizzy nodded in agreement.
The waitress jotted down their order and walked back to the bar, where the man was still fixated on his phone.
"So, what's this Ed case about?" Lizzy asked.
"The Ed Smith case?" John leaned back. "It's a weird one. Guy was found dead in an alleyway—bullet to the head, gun in his hand. At first, we thought it was a gang hit. But he'd just moved here from Atlanta and had no local ties. He did have a few petty robbery charges back in Atlanta, though."
He paused before continuing.
"Turns out, his ex-wife happened to be visiting the city the day he died. When I talked to her, she eventually broke down and confessed. She said they ran into each other by chance, and Ed started following her. She ducked into the alley, trying to get away. He pulled a gun, but couldn't bring himself to use it. She, on the other hand, had a revolver in her coat and shot him first."
Lizzy's eyes sparkled with fascination. It was obvious—she wanted nothing more than to be a cop herself.