The Chess Piece

Rain has a strange way of making Noctis look innocent.

It blurs the neon lights, washes the streets clean, and tricks people into believing this city can forget what happens after midnight.

It can't.

Noctis remembers everything.

My phone rang just as I was about to leave the office.

"Profiler Voss."

I glanced at the clock.

12:43 a.m.

No one called at this hour unless someone was dead.

"This better be important."

Detective Adrian Cole let out a tired sigh on the other end.

"I've got another one."

Another one.

Those two words were enough.

I grabbed my coat.

"I'll be there in twenty."

The abandoned opera house smelled of dust, old wood...

and blood.

Crime scene tape blocked the entrance while officers moved quietly between rows of worn velvet seats.

No one spoke louder than a whisper.

Fear had a way of lowering people's voices.

Adrian was waiting for me near the stage.

"You look terrible," I said.

"I was hoping you'd tell me I look handsome."

"You look sleep-deprived."

"That's close enough."

He stepped aside.

My eyes landed on the victim.

Male.

Around fifty.

Expensive Italian suit.

No visible defensive wounds.

He looked...

Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Almost as if the killer wanted him to be remembered this way.

I crouched beside the body.

There it was.

A single black chess piece.

Resting inside his right hand.

I didn't touch it.

I didn't have to.

The killer wanted us to notice it.

"Same as before?" I asked.

Adrian nodded.

"No fingerprints."

"No cameras."

"No witnesses."

I looked around the empty theater.

The stage.

The curtains.

The broken chandelier above us.

Nothing felt random.

Then I noticed something else.

The victim's watch.

It had stopped at exactly 11:17.

"Did the watch break during the attack?" I asked.

A forensic technician shook her head.

"It wasn't damaged."

I stared at it for another second.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Adrian crossed his arms.

"You already found something, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"You always say maybe."

"Because I'm usually right."

He rolled his eyes.

"I hate when you do that."

A faint smile escaped me.

It disappeared almost immediately.

Because this wasn't just another murder.

This was the fourth.

And whoever was behind it...

Wanted us to keep counting.

Back at headquarters, I pinned the latest crime scene photo onto the evidence board.

Four victims.

Four crime scenes.

Four chess pieces.

Different men.

Different lives.

Different mafia families.

One killer.

One pattern.

I uncapped a red marker.

Instead of circling the victim...

I circled the chess piece.

Not the body.

The message.

Someone knocked on my office door.

"Come in."

Director Marcus Hale stepped inside.

He looked unusually serious.

"We've got a problem."

"I noticed."

"No."

He closed the door behind him.

"You don't understand."

He placed a sealed file on my desk.

"I want you in the conference room."

"What for?"

His answer came after a long silence.

"Someone has taken an interest in your investigation."

Before I could ask who...

He walked out.

I looked down at the unopened file.

For the first time that night...

I hesitated.

Something told me that once I opened it...

There would be no turning back.

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