That couldn't be true. But the name on the envelope was clearly mine.

Why? I had never met the person behind this, and even if they knew my name, I was just another one of the detectives who had been trying and failing to solve the case.

"Collect the papers. I'll read this at home."

~.~

"Ummm...Why are we at the cafe, Esi?"

"You'll see. And remember to not call me Esi around Khlo. Or any of the customers."

"Okay, Ezyn."

I headed straight for the storage room.

"Oh! What a pleasant surprise. I'd ask what you're here for, darling, but I already know." Khlo glanced behind me. "Hi, Nircoel baby! Are you excited to--"

"He'll be staying out here, Khlo." I turned to Nircoel. "Khlo runs a secret lab here. I'm just gonna drop off some samples, alright?"

"Okay?" After a brief pause, his face darkened. "Oh...okay."

It seemed he was remembering what he had found on the third floor.

"Darling, we need to talk."

"Huh? What about?" I waved to Nircoel, then followed Khlo through a few doors until we reached the lab.

"We can start with how you two became such good friends in a day." 

"You're crazy. We don't even know each other that well."

"Ezyn, do you not realize the difference between the way you talked to me when we first met, and the way you talk to him?" If looks could kill, I'd be dead.

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I was polite to Khlo, but I was cold. With Nircoel...it was just different.

"There's not...something more between you two, is there?" She eyed me suspiciously.

"Khlo. I'm not into men. And in the event that I was, we only met yesterday."

"So...are you into women?" she asked, holding out her hand for the samples.

I handed over the bags of cotton balls. "Probably."

"Have you even dated before?"

"...No."

"There could be a chance you're not into anyone."

"Khlo, please just take care of the samples."

"Anything for you, darling!" She kissed me on the cheek. "The results will be ready in a week."

I rolled my eyes and walked back out to the storage room.

"Ready to go home, Nir?"

"Yep!"

~.~

On the drive, Nircoel asked, "What did Khlo want to talk about?"

"She asked questions beyond my comprehension."

"Wow! Sounds deep."

"In a way, yes. In another, not at all."

~.~

The letter lay on my desk, daring me to read it. Of course, I did. It read:

Dear Ezyn,

              You do not know me. I, however, certainly know you. I know all about you. Your mother too, though for her I offer my condolences. You greatly interest me. Well, not you exactly. It is your past that is truly interesting. And that you have been investigating this one case ever since you moved to Shoals. I am looking forward to the moves you make in this game of cat and mouse. Although, who is the cat, and who is the mouse?

                                                                                                                                                      Sincerely,

                                                                                                                                                                Me, obviously

P.S. I am not the murderer. If you find me, I can tell you who it is. Chances are you will not find me, but you are welcome to try. I repeat, I am not the murderer. I just left the letter there because I knew you would eventually investigate that place.

Sounded exactly like something the murderer would say, a fact which greatly convinced me the mysterious writer wasn't the murderer. Instead, I was focused on the parts about my past. No one knew about my mother's death...how did this person know? Was it a calculated guess or did they know more than they let on?

Knocking on the door startled me out of my thoughts.

"Come in."

Nircoel walked in. "I made dinner, Esi!"

"Oh, is it that late already? Thanks, Nir."

"Did you read the letter?"

"Yes...it's not directly related to the case. More specifically, it's of no help at all."

"Do you know who wrote it?"

I told him I didn't know. What I didn't tell him was that I had my theories.

We headed down for dinner, greeted by the savory smell of stew.

"This looks delicious!" I said, sitting down to eat. It tasted just as good as it looked and smelled.

"Thank you...It's a traditional recipe from back home."

"Back home? Where'd you live before?"

"A very traditional Woodland village."

"Woodland, huh. You seem so accustomed to Seaside life I never would have guessed."

"My whole life I couldn't adjust to the Woodland ways. Eventually, I had to move."

I didn't pry. He seemed uncomfortable enough already.

"Again, thanks for cooking dinner. I know it's been quite a day for you."

"Well, I have to do my share of the work too. Having a bad day doesn't make it any different."

We finished our meal in silence and said our goodnights.

As I laid in bed that night, I thought about the events of the day. The warehouse and the letter felt strangely disconnected, as if they truly had nothing to do with each other. Letting out a weary sigh, I shut my eyes and hoped to fall asleep quickly.