The city was already awake when the police arrived at the narrow street. Horns blared in the distance, footsteps echoed against cracked sidewalks, and people stood behind yellow tape as officers tried to control the growing crowd.
In the middle of all this noise, two police officers moved toward a small, old apartment building. The ambulance crew had already wheeled out the corpse of an elderly woman. A white sheet covered her body, and the flash of cameras lit up the air as crime scene photographers snapped every angle.
Detective Nora Kane adjusted the badge on her belt and sighed. She was still young in the force, but she had seen enough death to know that this case wouldn't be simple. Standing beside her was Detective Marcus Hall, a tall man with a rugged look and a reputation for being straightforward.
"Poor woman," Marcus muttered as he scanned the corpse being carried into the van. "She lived alone. Neighbors say she barely talked to anyone. Could've been suicide."
Nora frowned, brushing her short brown hair out of her eyes. "Maybe. But something feels off already. They said she had been sick, right?"
Marcus shrugged. "That's what one of the neighbors said. The medics found a bottle of sleeping pills near her bed. Looks like she just decided to end it."
Nora squinted at the entrance of the apartment. The hallway light flickered above them. "We'll see."
They stepped inside. The smell of dust and stale air hit immediately. The apartment was small—just a living room, a kitchen corner, a tiny hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. Everything looked untouched. A few picture frames hung crooked on the wall. A teacup sat on the counter, still half-filled with cold tea.
Nora walked slowly, taking in every detail, while Marcus pulled out his phone and started typing a quick report.
Inside the bedroom, the sheets were messy, the pill bottle stood near the nightstand, and the window curtains swayed lightly. A notebook lay on the floor, but its pages were blank.
Marcus leaned against the doorframe. "Looks pretty clear to me. Pills, no signs of forced entry, no struggle. She must've done it herself."
But Nora's heart began to race. She blinked. For a second, the air in the room felt heavy. A chill ran down her arms.
And then she saw him.
Her father.
He stood near the window, tall, dressed in the same brown trench coat he used to wear when he worked as a detective years ago. His eyes were stern but soft, the way she remembered him before he died.
"Dad?" she whispered.
Marcus looked up from his phone. "What?"
Nora shook her head quickly. "Nothing. Just… nothing."
Her father's figure didn't move. He stared at her, his voice echoing low in the room. "Does it sound right to you, Nora? Sleeping pills to end her life? Or does it sound like someone wanted you to think that?"
Nora froze. She clenched her fists. "You're not real. You're not here," she muttered under her breath.
Marcus raised a brow. "What are you mumbling?"
She ignored him. She walked closer to the window where her father's ghostlike figure stood. He raised a finger and pointed at the glass. She followed his hand. At first, she saw nothing. But then, when the sunlight hit the glass just right, she gasped.
There it was.
A faint, smeared blood fingerprint on the corner of the window.
Her father's voice echoed again, calm but sharp. "If she wanted to end her life, Nora, why leave this behind?"
She shook her head. "This isn't happening. You're gone. You've been gone for years."
The image of her father stepped closer, his eyes burning into hers. "Listen to me. You know when something doesn't add up. Trust it. Don't look away."
Her lips trembled. "Stop it. You're not real. None of this is real."
She was whispering to herself when Marcus suddenly stepped into the room. His voice was louder this time, cutting through her haze.
"Nora. What the hell are you doing in here talking to yourself?"
She spun around, startled. The ghostly figure of her father was gone. The window looked ordinary again, with the sign of the fingerprint still on the glass window.
Nora stammered, "I...I was just checking the scene. Making sure nothing was missed."
Marcus frowned. He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "There's nothing here. Don't creep yourself out. Let's wrap this up."
Her throat felt dry. She nodded. "Yeah. Nothing here."
Marcus walked out, already tapping away at his phone again. Nora glanced one last time at the window. She could still see a trace of the fingerprint, but she decided to look it up herself later.
She swallowed hard and followed Marcus out of the apartment.
Outside, the crowd had started to disperse. The ambulance doors shut, and the vehicle pulled away with the old woman's body. The yellow tape came down as officers packed up their gear.
Marcus slid into the driver's seat of their patrol car. "I'll file it as a probable suicide for now. The higher-ups won't waste too much time on an old woman who lived alone."
Nora buckled her seatbelt slowly, staring out the window. Her father's voice still echoed in her head. Does it sound right to you, Nora?
She forced a smile and said, "Yeah. Suicide. Case closed for now."
But deep inside, she knew it wasn't closed.
The car pulled out of the street, leaving behind the quiet building and its secrets.