The rain fell in relentless sheets as Dr. Jonathan Hale arrived at the police station. His mind was numb, unable to process the whirlwind of events since Detective Marcus Reed's phone call. Isabelle—his Isabelle—was gone. It didn’t seem real. He couldn’t comprehend it, not yet.

Jonathan entered the station, his soaked coat clinging to him, and spotted Detective Reed waiting in a corner. Reed was a tall, imposing figure, his face marked by years of dealing with the city's darkest secrets. His cold eyes studied Jonathan as he approached.

"Dr. Hale?" Reed's voice was steady, with a hint of sympathy. "I know this is a difficult time, but we need to ask you a few questions."

Jonathan nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Of course. I need to know what happened."

Reed motioned for him to follow into a small interrogation room. As they sat down, Jonathan’s pulse quickened. The sterile, dimly lit room felt suffocating, and he was overwhelmed by the need to get out, to do something—anything—to bring Isabelle back. But that was impossible.

"Isabelle's body was found in her apartment," Reed began, his voice measured. "There were no signs of forced entry. It looks like she might have known her attacker."

The words hit Jonathan like a punch to the gut. She had been killed in her own home, a place where she should have been safe.

"Do you know if she was involved in anything dangerous?" Reed asked. "Any stories she might have been working on?"

Jonathan hesitated. Isabelle had always been careful not to reveal too much about her work, especially when it involved sensitive subjects. But just a week ago, she had mentioned that she was investigating something big—something that had made her uneasy.

"She was working on a story," Jonathan replied, his voice hoarse. "She didn’t tell me the details, but I could tell it was serious. She said it might get her into trouble."

Reed nodded, his pen scribbling notes. "We’ll need to go through her records, her notes. Anything that could give us a lead."

Jonathan leaned forward, desperate to contribute. "I want to help. I know I’m not a detective, but I… I need to do something. Isabelle deserves justice."

Reed’s eyes met his, a flicker of hesitation there. "I understand. But this isn’t like the novels you read, Dr. Hale. Investigations like these are dangerous. You should leave it to us."

Jonathan clenched his fists under the table. "I can't just sit and wait. I need to know who did this."

Before Reed could respond, a knock came at the door. A young officer entered and whispered something to the detective. Reed’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and concern crossing his face.

"Dr. Hale, I need to step out for a moment," Reed said, standing abruptly. "Wait here. I’ll be right back."

As soon as the door closed, Jonathan was left alone with his thoughts. His mind raced. There was something about the detective’s tone, something that hinted at new information. What had they found?

Unable to sit still, Jonathan got up and began pacing the room. His thoughts drifted to Isabelle’s apartment. The police had said there were no signs of forced entry, which meant she had let the killer in. Who would she trust enough to open the door to?

Suddenly, a thought struck him—Isabelle’s notes. She always kept detailed records of her investigations, often leaving them hidden in places only she would know about. If the police hadn’t found them yet, maybe he could.

Jonathan’s heart pounded as he made a decision. He couldn’t wait for Reed. He needed to see Isabelle’s apartment himself, to find her notes and figure out what had happened.

Without a second thought, he slipped out of the interrogation room and made his way toward the exit. The police station bustled with activity, but no one seemed to notice him leaving.

The rain had stopped by the time Jonathan reached Isabelle’s apartment. The building loomed in front of him, its exterior dark and uninviting in the night. A police car was still parked out front, but the officers seemed occupied with other matters. Jonathan slipped in unnoticed.

The hallway was eerily quiet as he approached her door. The familiar scent of her perfume lingered in the air, a painful reminder of the life they had shared. With trembling hands, he unlocked the door with the spare key she had given him.

The apartment was in disarray, likely the result of the police search. Papers were scattered across the floor, and Isabelle's desk had been emptied. Jonathan’s heart sank as he looked around. If the police had already searched this thoroughly, would there be anything left to find?

He moved toward the desk, carefully sifting through the papers. Most of them were mundane—bills, letters, old articles. But then, hidden beneath a stack of notebooks, he found something—a small, leather-bound journal. It was Isabelle’s handwriting on the cover.

His hands shook as he opened it, flipping through the pages. The entries were detailed, outlining the investigation she had been working on. Names, places, dates—all meticulously recorded. But one name stood out, circled repeatedly in red ink: Nicholas Kane.

Jonathan had never heard of him before. Who was Nicholas Kane? And why had Isabelle been so focused on him?

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped Jonathan out of his thoughts. His heart raced. Someone was coming. Quickly, he slipped the journal into his coat pocket and backed away from the desk.

The door creaked open slowly, and a figure stepped inside.

"Dr. Hale?" a familiar voice called out.

Jonathan’s pulse slowed slightly as Detective Reed appeared in the doorway. But there was something unsettling in the detective's expression—something Jonathan couldn’t quite place.

"What are you doing here?" Reed asked, his tone sharp.

"I… I needed to see for myself," Jonathan stammered. "I thought I might find something the police missed."

Reed’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to the apartment, then back to Jonathan. "We need to talk. There’s more going on here than you realize."

Jonathan’s hand instinctively moved to the pocket where he had hidden the journal. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Reed—or anyone else, for that matter.

And in that moment, Jonathan knew he was in deeper than he had ever imagined.