Miles and Ethan walked in silence for several blocks, the rhythmic tap of their shoes on the pavement the only sound between them. Miles, still reeling from the grim discovery of the house, glanced at Ethan. Ethan's face was a study in cold concentration, his eyes scanning the streets with a professional detachment that Miles found both intimidating and impressive.
Miles, with his newly awakened Observation skill, found himself noticing the subtle details that a normal person would miss: the slight wear on the soles of Ethan's shoes, the way his hand rested on the lapel of his coat, the quick, calculating flick of his eyes to every passing car and pedestrian.
They finally reached a bustling corner where a small, glass-paned red telephone box stood. "Stay here," Ethan ordered, his voice flat and low. "I'll make the call."
Miles watched as Ethan entered the cramped booth, his tall frame filling the space entirely. He inserted a coin and dialed a number with practiced ease. Miles's senses, heightened by the system, strained to hear the conversation, but all he could make out was the muffled rise and fall of Ethan's voice. On the other end, Inspector Finch's voice was filled with a mix of relief and urgency.
"Ethan, thank goodness you called. It's a miracle. We've just received the autopsy report from the lab." Inspector Finch informed.
"Is it about the girl?" Ethan asked, his tone clipped.
"It is," inspector Finch said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "The police were wrong. This wasn't a suicide. Dr. Alistair just called. Katherine was already dead when her wrists were cut. It was a staging to make it look like she took her own life. And there's more... she was pregnant."
A wave of shock passed over Ethan's face, a flicker of something almost human in his piercing eyes. He had known Katherine was dead, but the details, the brutal, cold truth of it, hit him hard. "What was the cause of death?" he pressed, his voice tight.
"Alistair doesn't know yet," Finch admitted, a note of frustration in his voice. "He says there's no trace of poison, no marks of strangulation, no sign of blunt force trauma. Her death was completely silent, completely without a physical trace. She simply... ceased. He'll need more time to find a definitive cause of death, but he's telling me, this is a clean, professional kill."
Ethan took a moment to process the grim news. The facts were a cold weight in his mind. "We have a lead," he said. "Miles remembered the last place he saw her alive. It was in front of a house, and we think we found it."
Finch's voice sharpened. "Good. Don't go in. Just observe. A killer is still out there. Be careful during the investigation."
"Understood," Ethan said, and the call ended with a firm click. He pushed the door open and emerged from the telephone box, another person already waiting impatiently to make a call. He walked back to Miles, his face a grim mask.
"She was murdered," Ethan said, his eyes fixed on Miles. "She was also pregnant."
Miles's eyes furrowed not surprised since he has already heard all the conversation with his new observation skills which gave him some kind of heightened senses. "But... why would someone kill her?"
"That's our job to find out," Ethan replied. "The Inspector said to be careful and just observe. We need to find out who lives in that house."
They made their way back to the street where the house with the green door stood. They hid behind a large oak tree across the street, their eyes fixed on the building. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, purple shadows across the street.
The air grew still, the silence punctuated only by the distant rumble of an automobile.
After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened, and a man and a woman emerged. They were laughing and talking, their faces a picture of relaxed ease. The woman had a kind face, but it was the man that caught Miles's attention. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his hair neatly combed. He had a confident smile and an air of authority that suggested he was used to getting his way.
As the man and woman walked down the steps and got into a waiting car, Ethan's eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. He muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. "Isn't that... James Anderson? The son of a wealthy man, flaunting his wealth all over the city. How is he related to Katherine?" He had no time to ponder the question. The man and woman got into a waiting car and drove off.
"He's gone," Miles said. "Now's our chance."
"What are you talking about?" Ethan's voice was sharp. "The Inspector said to observe. We can't just go in there. That's trespassing."
"No," Miles said, already moving toward the house. "We're not trespassing. We're investigating."
He moved to the side of the house, where a back door stood unlocked. Ethan hesitated for a moment, then sighed and followed, a look of disapproval on his face.
They slipped inside, their eyes darting around the interior. Miles's Observation skill was in overdrive, cataloging every detail. The room was tidy, but a thin layer of dust covered the surfaces, suggesting the owner wasn't home often.
A staircase led to the second floor. They roamed the first floor, their eyes scanning for anything related to Katherine. The place was a dead end.
Miles's eyes were drawn to the second floor. He tried to open a door, but it was locked. He sighed in frustration. The system provided no new information. This was a bust.
"We should leave," Ethan insisted, his hand on the back door. "There's nothing here."
As they were about to leave, Miles's eyes caught sight of the trash can in the corner of the room. A single black and white photo was visible through the plastic. His heart pounded as he reached in and pulled it out. It was Katherine, smiling brightly, her face full of a joyous light he hadn't seen before.
"We have to go," Ethan urged.
Just then, the blaring sound of a car horn echoed from outside, followed by the rumble of a car engine. They were running out of time. They made a mad dash for the door, Miles a step behind Ethan. In his haste, he accidentally knocked over the trash can, sending its contents—including the photo—spilling onto the floor.
He didn't notice, already focused on getting out. They slipped out just as a car pulled into the driveway.
They hid behind a large bush, peeking through the leaves as James Anderson got out of the car. He walked up the porch steps, his expression one of casual indifference.
He opened the door, and heard the sound of the trash falling from the back door and he walked to the back door and opened it, his eyes immediately went to the overturned trash can. He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. He took a few steps inside, his head swiveling, but he just shrugged and carried the thrown things, standing the trash can straight and dumping it in and he saw the photo of the girl already under the trash. He picked it up stared at it for a brief second and dumped it in as he walked upstairs.
As soon as he was out of sight, Miles tugged on Ethan's sleeve. "Now," he whispered. "It's time to go in."
Ethan's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you mad? Why didn't you just wait until now?!"
"Because we have to find out what he hid," he stated, "we are knocking from the front, you didn't think I would bust in again didn't you I'm a detective!"
"You should have said that sooner!" Ethan muttered.