The old mansion stood silent in the rain, its windows like dead eyes staring out over the expansive grounds. Detective Sarah Morgan pulled her coat tighter against the chill as she approached the imposing stone structure deliberately. Inside, the body of Charles Blackwood lay sprawled across his expensive Persian rug, a single bullet hole between his eyes. Blood had pooled beneath his head, soaking into the intricate patterns and forever staining the legacy of his wealth. Sarah knelt beside the corpse, her trained eyes scanning for details others might miss among the disturbed surroundings. The victim's hand still clutched a torn photograph, his fingers rigid in death's uncompromising grip around the mysterious clue. Across the room, a grandfather clock ticked loudly, marking time in a house where someone's had abruptly, violently ended.