Chapter 4: The Scent of Almonds
The shipyard was a graveyard of rusted steel and broken dreams. Elias arrived first, his hand resting on his holster.
Julianna pulled up moments later, her headlights cutting through the fog. She looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red. She reached up and nervously adjusted her silver locket.
"Did you bring the file?" Elias asked.
"I have the physical copy," she said, handing him a manila envelope. "If Miller finds out I pulled this, my career is over. Or worse."
Elias opened the file. As he flipped through the pages, a scent drifted toward him. It was faint, sweet, and sickly. Almond oil.
He froze. The victim at the pier smelled like almond oil. He looked at Julianna's hands. She was wearing leather gloves, but the scent was clinging to her coat.
"Julianna," Elias said softly, his mind racing through every conversation they'd had in the last five years. "Where did you go before meeting me?"
"Home. Why?"
"Your coat. It smells like the crime scene."
She didn't blink. She didn't flinch. She just smiled—a small, sad tilt of the lips. "I spent all evening in the evidence locker, Elias. Contamination is bound to happen. You of all people should know that memory is perfect, but context is everything."
She stepped closer, pointing at a photo in the file. "Look at the signature again. It's not an 'O.' It's a 'Zero.' It's a countdown."