A crime scene never felt quiet. Not really.

Even when the crowd was pushed back, the sirens faded, and the tape fluttered lazily in the wind—there was always noise.

Whispers.

Doubts.

Mistakes waiting to happen.

And Ira hated mistakes.

She stood in the doorway of Apartment 307, arms crossed, eyes scanning every corner like she could force the truth out of the walls if she stared hard enough.

“Nothing unusual,” her partner said behind her. “Looks clean.”

“Too clean,” Ira muttered.

The living room was spotless. No signs of struggle. No broken glass. No forced entry.

Which meant one thing.

“The victim knew the attacker,” she said.

Her partner shrugged. “Or we’re overthinking it.”

Ira didn’t respond. Overthinking solved cases. Carelessness buried them.

Her phone buzzed.

She ignored it.

Another buzz.

Annoyed, she pulled it out.

Unknown Number.

Unknown: You missed something.

Ira’s brows furrowed.

Spam?

She typed quickly.

Ira: Who is this?

The reply came instantly.

Unknown: 3rd floor. Apartment 307.

Her fingers froze.

Slowly, she looked up… around the exact apartment she was standing in.

A cold, quiet feeling crept up her spine.

Ira: How do you know about this case?

Unknown: You checked the bedroom, right?

Her jaw tightened.

Ira: Answer my question.

Unknown: You didn’t check the kitchen drawer. Left side.

Ira let out a small, humorless laugh.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

“What?” her partner asked.

“Nothing.”

She started typing again.

Ira: If this is some kind of joke—

Unknown: Go check. I’ll wait.

She stared at the message.

This was stupid.

Completely stupid.

And yet…

Something about the certainty in those texts—it didn’t feel like a guess.

It felt like… knowledge.

Ira turned toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” her partner called.

“Just checking something.”

She walked in, every step measured, controlled. The kitchen looked just as untouched as the rest of the apartment.

Clean counters. Closed cabinets.

Nothing out of place.

“Left drawer,” she whispered to herself.

Her hand hovered for a second.

Then she pulled it open.

And froze.

A knife.

Not just any knife.

A blood-stained kitchen knife, carefully placed beneath a stack of neatly folded napkins.

Hidden.

Missed.

Impossible to miss—unless someone had placed it there after the initial sweep… or

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown: Found it?

Ira swallowed slowly, eyes still locked in the drawer.

Her heartbeat had changed.

Not faster.

Sharper.

Ira: Who. Are. You.

Unknown: Someone who just saved your report from being rejected.

She shut the drawer carefully.

Her mind was already racing ahead—timelines, access, possibilities.

Ira: That knife wasn’t there before.

Unknown: I know.

Ira: Then how—

Unknown: You’re asking the wrong questions.

Her grip on the phone tightened.

Ira: You’re inside this building.

Unknown: Wrong.

Ira: Then how are you watching me?

There was a pause this time.

Longer than before.

For the first time… he wasn’t instantly replying.

Then—

Unknown: I didn’t say I’m watching you right now.

Ira’s expression hardened.

That wasn’t comforting.

That was worse.

Much worse.

Ira: What do you want?

Unknown: For now? Nothing.

Ira: People don’t randomly help the police.

Unknown: I’m not helping the police.

A pause.

Then another message.

Unknown: I’m helping you.

Ira leaned back slightly against the counter, eyes narrowing.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

This wasn’t luck.

This was calculated.

Deliberate.

Personal.

Ira: Why me?

The typing dots appeared.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

Then finally—

Unknown: Because you’re about to make a mistake.

Her jaw clenched.

Ira: What mistake?

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Long enough to be intentional.

Like he wanted her to wait.

To feel it.

To think.

Then—

Unknown: Trusting the wrong person.

Ira’s eyes flicked instinctively toward the hallway.

Toward her partner.

Still outside.

Still unaware.

Still… normal.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

Then slowly—

Ira: Be clear.

The reply came instantly this time.

Unknown: Your partner—

Ira’s heart skipped.

Ira: Stop.

Three dots.

Still typing.

Still coming.

And then—

Unknown: Turn around.

...----------------...

Helloo readers,

I hope you are enjoying the story, I know it's just the chapter 1.... Let's find together how the story goess

This story isn’t just about solving cases…

it’s about trust, choices, and the people we think we know.

I wanted to create something a little different

a mix of mystery, tension, and slow-burning emotions that keep you guessing at every step.

Not everything you see is the truth.

Not everyone you trust is safe.

And sometimes… the person you’re running from

is the only one trying to protect you.

I hope this story keeps you hooked, makes you question things,

and leaves you waiting for the next chapter 😏

Stay with Ira… the truth is just getting started.

Do let me know what you think about the story in the comments,

Thankyou 🤗

The hallway felt different now.

It wasn’t the same quiet anymore.

It was heavier. Watching. Waiting.

Ira stood still, phone in her hand, her eyes fixed ahead, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Unknown: Turn around.

The message still glowed on her screen.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

This was stupid.

Completely stupid.

And yet… her instincts weren’t letting it go.

Slowly, carefully, Ira turned.

Her partner stood a few steps away, talking to one of the officers. Calm. Normal. Exactly how he always was.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing threatening.

Nothing… wrong.

And that was the problem.

Too normal.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown: See?

Ira’s jaw clenched.

Ira: There’s nothing.

Unknown: Exactly.

Her brows furrowed.

Ira: Stop playing games.

Unknown: I’m not the one playing.

A pause.

Ira looked back at her partner. He laughed at something the officer said, completely unaware.

Or pretending to be.

Her grip tightened.

Ira: If you’re trying to mess with my investigation, you picked the wrong person.

Unknown: If I wanted to mess with you, Detective…

You wouldn’t even know where to start.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm.

Control the situation. Don’t react.

Ira: Then explain.

Three dots appeared.

Paused.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

He was doing that on purpose.

Making her wait.

Making her think.

Unknown: You’re already late.

Her heart skipped.

Ira: Late for what?

No reply.

Her patience snapped.

Ira: Answer me.

Still nothing.

“Everything okay?” her partner’s voice cut in suddenly.

Ira looked up.

He was right in front of her now.

Closer than before.

Watching her.

For a second—just a second—she noticed something off.

Not his expression.

Not his posture.

His timing.

He walked up… exactly when the messages stopped.

Too perfect.

“Ira?” he repeated.

She blinked, snapping out of it.

“Yeah. Just checking something.”

He glanced at her phone briefly. “Work already following you home?”

“Something like that.”

He didn’t push.

Just nodded.

“Report’s almost ready. You should take a look.”

“Send it.”

He gave a small smile. “Always this serious?”

“Always.”

For a moment, everything felt normal again.

Almost.

Her phone buzzed.

She didn’t look immediately.

Didn’t want to give anything away.

But curiosity won.

Slowly, she glanced down.

Unknown: He’s good.

A chill ran through her.

Ira: What does that mean?

Unknown: Better than I expected.

Her heartbeat slowed… then sharpened again.

Ira: You’re watching him?

Unknown: I’m watching you.

That answer didn’t help.

It made it worse.

Ira: Why?

This time, the reply came instantly.

Unknown: Because you don’t see what’s right in front of you.

Ira’s eyes lifted again, landing on her partner.

He was turned away now, flipping through his notes.

Normal.

Still normal.

Too normal.

Ira: Then tell me what I’m missing.

A pause.

Longer than before.

Then

Unknown: Not yet.

Her frustration spiked.

Ira: You don’t get to decide that.

Unknown: I already did.

She almost laughed.

Almost.

Ira: You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?

Unknown: More than you think.

Ira: You’re insane.

Unknown: And yet… I’m the only one helping you.

That hit harder than she expected.

Because it was true.

She hated that it was true.

Ira walked out into the hallway, needing some space, air, distance from both the case and the conversation.

But neither followed her.

The silence was worse.

Her phone buzzed again.

She stopped walking.

Didn’t open it immediately.

Something about this message felt… different.

Heavier.

Like it mattered more.

Slowly, she unlocked her screen.

Unknown: Check the time.

Her brows pulled together.

Ira: Why?

No reply.

Annoyed, she glanced at the clock on the wall.

9:42 PM.

Ira: What about it?

The reply came instantly.

Unknown: Remember it.

Her chest tightened slightly.

Ira: You’re not making any sense.

Three dots appeared.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

Then,

Unknown: You’ll understand soon.

Ira’s patience snapped.

Ira: Stop talking in riddles and just—

Her message froze mid-type.

A sudden loud noise echoed from inside the apartment.

A crash.

Followed by shouting.

Ira spun around instantly.

Her partner’s voice.

Sharp.

Alert.

“Ira!”

Her heart dropped.

The phone slipped slightly in her grip as adrenaline kicked in.

She ran.

Straight back toward the apartment.

Her mind racing—

What just happened?

What did she miss?

What did HE know?

Her phone buzzed again.

But she didn’t stop.

Didn’t check.

Didn’t think.

Not until she reached the door.

Not until she saw the chaos inside.

Not until everything changed.

And only then—

her phone buzzed again.