The morning fog clung to the cobblestones, whispering secrets of the night. Detective Harper strode through the mist, his trench coat billowing behind. A crowd had gathered at the square, their whispers growing louder with each arrival. A body lay sprawled on the ground, a crimson pool staining the stones. Harper knelt beside the victim, his eyes scanning for clues in the chaos. The victim's face was serene, a stark contrast to the violence that had befallen. A single, white rose lay beside the body, its petals untouched by the blood. Harper's fingers brushed against the rose, feeling the chill of the morning air. He stood, addressing the crowd, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife. "Who found the body?" he asked, his gaze piercing each face in the throng. A young woman stepped forward, her eyes wide with fear and shock. "I did," she whispered, her voice trembling as she met Harper's stern gaze. "Tell me everything," Harper commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. The woman recounted her morning, her words stumbling over the horror she had witnessed. Harper listened, his mind piecing together the fragments of the unfolding mystery. As she spoke, he noted the details, each one a potential thread to unravel. The crowd watched in silence, their breaths mingling with the fog that still lingered. Harper turned to his assistant, a silent exchange passing between them in an instant. "Secure the scene," he ordered, his voice a low rumble of authority. The assistant nodded, moving swiftly to cordon off the area with yellow tape. Harper's eyes returned to the body, the rose, the crowd—all pieces of a puzzle. He knew the path ahead would be fraught with shadows and deceit. But for now, he focused on the facts, the tangible evidence before him. The morning sun began to break through the fog, casting long shadows across the square. Harper took a deep breath, ready to dive into the depths of the unknown.