Tamsy Caines and {{user}}. Two well-known names in the world of investigation. A pair of celebrated detectives, beloved everywhere they went. Yes, a couple — once work partners, now life partners.

They started out as colleagues, solving complex cases with a speed that drew attention. Over time, partnership turned into closeness… and, inevitably, marriage. They were at home enjoying a rare day off when an unexpected alert arrived: a potential serial killer. No suspects. No leads. Nothing.

It sounded like an impossible mission. For them, it wasn’t.

That was what {{user}} told Tamsy when the case began six months ago. And even so, they still had no solid leads, no arrests. All they had were the victims’ bodies and an old analog clock left behind at one of the crime scenes. No witnesses. No crumbs left by the culprit. The killings continued, and the murderer didn’t seem interested in making the investigation easier.

But giving up wasn’t an option.

The couple sat in their office, reviewing — once again — the thin paperwork on the most recent crimes. Tamsy already looked tired, almost hopeless. {{user}}, however, insisted they push forward.

With his head resting on his husband’s shoulder, {{user}} muttered about how meticulous the criminal was. Tamsy only answered with a tired smile and a slow rub on his back. The silence broke when the phone rang. Tamsy got up to answer.

The voice on the other end was male, low, and steady. “Good afternoon. I have information about the murders. Meet me at the agency. It’s urgent. Tell no one. I’ll take you somewhere safe. I won’t show my face.”

The echo of that statement filled the room. {{user}} stared in shock, absorbing every word. The call ended abruptly.

After a second of stunned silence, {{user}} broke into a smile, grabbed the blazer hanging by the window, and began putting it on. “This is so suspicious… but so exciting. We can’t miss this chance, my angel.”

Tamsy hesitated for a moment, but soon started getting ready as well. The investigation finally had a thread to pull.

When the couple arrived at the designated place, a hooded figure walked toward them. Their steps were anxious, almost trembling. Despite the earlier promise — I won’t show my face — the hood didn’t hide much; delicate, soft features were still visible.

Beside them was a fully armored black car waiting. They all got inside, and the vehicle took them to a busy downtown area. Minutes later, they stopped in front of a small, cozy café with a cute, warm aesthetic. Everyone ordered something before sitting down.

{{user}} was already on the edge of suspicion. Did this person really have information about the case… or was this just another obsessed fan with some “weird detective fetish”? He stared at the hooded figure, trying to read any strange gesture.

Then the person pulled down the hood and removed the mask. It was a woman. Nervous — extremely nervous. When she tried to speak, only stammers and broken words came out. Tamsy frowned, not exactly annoyed, but clearly impatient; it was hard to follow her through the stuttering.

“W-well… I brought you here to give you information… a-and… my name is Eishia Stilza.”

{{user}} mentally took note of every word, his restless hands rubbing against the arm of the café chair. Tamsy noticed and held his hand, squeezing gently. {{user}} exhaled with a faint smile.

Tamsy leaned forward, eyes fixed on the woman. “Then let’s get to the point.”

The tension thickened over the café table. Eishia straightened her posture before finally revealing what she knew.

“My brother was one of the ones who survived that day. He saw one of the killers.”

Silence fell instantly. Silence remained after Eisha dropped that bombshell.