The rain had started again.
Detective Blake stood across the street from the small house, leaning against his car with a cigarette between his fingers. The orange tip glowed in the darkness as he took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the quiet building across the road.
The house looked normal.
Too normal.
One small porch light. Curtains drawn. No movement inside.
Yet something about it bothered him.
"You've been staring at that house for twenty minutes," Wyner said from inside the car.
Blake exhaled slowly.
"That kid isn't normal."
Wyner leaned forward slightly.
"Because he lost his family?"
"No."
Blake flicked ash onto the wet pavement.
"Because he didn't react like someone who lost his family."
Wyner frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Blake looked back at the house.
"I thought he was just in shock at first, but this kid never leaves the house, and no one comes over. No family friend checking in on him. nothing.
"When we told him Alex Ross was dead… nothing. No shock. No anger. No sadness."
"People process grief differently."
"Sure," Blake said. "But not like that."
The detective tossed the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe.
"That kid looked relieved."
Wyner sighed.
"You're reading too much into it. You're the one who said he was just too broken."
"Maybe."
Blake opened the car door.
"But I want eyes on the house anyway."
For the next few days, they watched.
Not constantly.
Just enough.
A patrol car passes through the street every couple of hours.
An unmarked car parked down the block.
Simple observation.
Simon Grimly didn't do much.
He left the house once to buy groceries.
Another time, he walked to a convenience store.
Otherwise, he stayed inside.
"Kid barely leaves," Wyner muttered while watching through binoculars.
Blake nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
"That's not illegal."
"No," Blake said quietly.
"But it's interesting."
Two days later, the break came.
A patrol officer had reported a strange smell coming from an abandoned house near the slums.
Blake and Wyner arrived thirty minutes later.
The building was falling apart.
Broken windows.
Boarded doors.
Trash is scattered around the yard.
Blake pulled a handkerchief over his mouth as they stepped inside.
The smell hit immediately.
Blood.
Rot.
Something worse.
"Jesus…" Wyner whispered.
The living room had been converted into something else entirely.
Generators.
Speakers.
Electrical wiring.
And in the center of the room…
A plastic tub.
The forensic team worked quietly.
Photographs flashed.
Evidence bags filled.
The medical examiner walked over after examining the body.
"Victim is Alex Ross."
Wyner cursed under his breath.
Blake didn't say anything.
His eyes slowly scanned the room.
Speakers.
A camera tripod.
Leather straps.
Drugs.
Everything is set up carefully.
Planned.
Calculated.
"Whoever did this," the medical examiner said quietly, "wasn't just torturing him."
Blake looked at the tub again.
"They were experimenting."
Later that night, Blake sat in the station staring at the evidence board.
Photos of Alex Ross.
Photos of the abandoned house.
Crime scene images pinned beside maps and notes.
Wyner leaned against the desk.
"You're thinking about the kid again."
Blake didn't answer immediately.
He pointed to a photograph.
"Look at this."
Wyner stepped closer.
It was a still image from one of the videos found at the crime scene.
Alex Ross tied to the tub.
His eyes wide with terror.
Blake tapped the image.
"The killer knew Alex personally."
"How?"
"He knew the names of every girl Alex was involved with."
Wyner shrugged.
"That information could be anywhere."
Blake nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
He reached for another photo.
Simon Grimly's school ID.
"And guess who else knew those girls?"
Wyner stared at the board.
"You're saying the kid did this?"
"I'm saying I want to talk to him again."
...
Back in the interrogation room.
Simon sat calmly across from the profiler.
"You are one hell of a case," the profiler said, rubbing his temples. "Even now, you speak about these things like they're math problems."
Simon didn't respond.
"So tell me something," the profiler continued. "When Detective Blake started watching your house… did you notice?"
Simon smiled slightly.
"Yes."
...
Four days after the discovery of the house.
Blake and Wyner knocked on Simon's door again.
Simon opened it slowly.
"Oh… Detective Blake."
Blake studied the boy carefully.
"Mind if we talk again?"
Simon hesitated.
"Sure."
The detectives stepped inside.
The house looked almost empty.
A couch.
A television.
A small kitchen table.
No family photos.
No decorations.
Just space.
Blake sat down.
"Kid, I'm going to ask you something again."
Simon nodded.
"Okay."
"You said you didn't know Alex Ross well."
"That's right."
Blake leaned forward slightly.
"But we found something interesting."
Simon's chest tightened.
"Like what?"
"The house where Alex Ross was killed."
Simon forced himself not to react.
"That's… terrible."
Blake watched him closely.
"You ever been near the slums?"
Simon shook his head.
"No."
Blake stood up slowly and began walking around the room.
"You know what's interesting about killers like this?"
Simon said nothing.
"They plan."
Blake looked back at him.
"They research their victims."
"They watch them."
"They study them."
Simon's heart began to pound.
Blake stopped directly in front of him.
"And sometimes…"
The detective leaned closer.
"They start with people connected to them."
Simon swallowed.
"I don't know what you mean."
Blake stared into his eyes.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Blake stepped back.
"Maybe I'm wrong."
Wyner cleared his throat.
"We're just following up on leads."
Simon nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Blake walked toward the door.
But before leaving he turned back one last time.
"You know something, Simon?"
"Yes?"
Blake's voice became very quiet.
"You're either the unluckiest kid in the world…"
He paused.
"Or the smartest killer I've ever met."
The door closed behind them.
Simon stood frozen in the middle of the room.
His hands were shaking.
He hadn't noticed until now.
"That detective…"
His voice was barely a whisper.
"He knows."
Simon walked to the bathroom and turned on the sink.
Cold water splashed across his face.
His reflection stared back at him in the mirror.
Pale.
Eyes wide.
For the first time since he started…
He was afraid.
"Calm down," he muttered.
"Think."
Detective Blake wasn't certain.
Not yet.
But suspicion was worse than evidence.
Suspicion meant watching.
Digging.
Following.
Simon gripped the edge of the sink.
"If he keeps looking…"
His voice trembled slightly.
"He'll find everything."
For the first time since the hunt began…
Simon Grimly realized something.
The hunter…
was now being hunted.