Rain tapped the windowpane like secrets wanting out. Detective Mara Vex stirred cold coffee, thoughts circling yesterday’s silence. The coroner’s van idled by Elm Street’s crooked hydrant, waiting. A single glove lay in the gutter, fingers splayed in shock. No footprints marred the wet sidewalk near the body. She knelt, noting how the victim’s watch stopped at 3:03. Blood bloomed under the man’s ear, dark as old ink. His overcoat pocket held a train ticket to nowhere town. Mara frowned at the name penciled faintly on the stub. Crowds murmured, but no one claimed they’d seen a struggle. Her partner coughed, offering a yellowed photo taken at dusk. The victim’s eyes, wide open, reflected someone not standing there. A child’s balloon drifted down, red and quietly drifting.