Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK97NK9BG0F8CY315G3M6HC

Rain stitched the harbor's darkness. Fog lapped the cobblestone pier. Lanterns swayed like tired moons. Detective Mara Kline arrived late. Her umbrella wept black tears. Sirens hushed as boots approached. A gull screamed, then vanished. Harbormaster Pike waited, cap low. He wouldn't meet her eyes. The trawler knocked its moorings. Something else knocked, much softer. Mara smelled salt and iron. They climbed aboard by ladder. Deck lights flickered, revealing smears. Smears led to the hold. A padlock dangled, freshly snapped. Pike muttered, voice suddenly young. Mara lifted the hatch slowly. Cold rushed up like memory. The smell became a fact. A body lay among nets. Throat opened, pockets neatly emptied. Hands arranged in careful prayer. Eyes stared past the beams. Rain ticked upon his cheek. Mara noted the wedding band. Gold scratched, skin lavender pale. She counted livid crescent marks. Not rope, more careful hands. Pike whispered, Almost didn't call. Fear showed under his stubble. You recognized him, Mara asked. Pike nodded toward the radio. He'd reported weather, then silence. Mara checked his broken watch. Stopped at midnight, tide turning. She studied the neat wounds. A surgeon's patience, a message. The nets hid something heavier. She pulled, cords bit back. Out slid a velvet pouch. Inside, three river stones waited. Each painted with blue numbers. One, two, then seven, smeared. Mara pocketed the wet clue. Rain strengthened, boats answered groaning. Footsteps thudded along the quay. A woman in yellow approached. She held a dripping photograph. Found this stuck below, miss. Mara compared face to corpse. Different man, same wedding band. She felt the case widen. Foghorn bellowed like a judge. Somewhere, a radio crackled awake. A voice recited shipping schedules. Then it recited three numbers. One, two, then sudden silence. Pike crossed himself without thinking. Mara closed the hatch gently. Keep everyone off this dock. Call the coroner and press. Lock that gate behind them. She studied footprints pooling rain. Two sets, hers and Pike's. A third set entered earlier. None left by returning feet. Our killer likes staying close. Or likes watching you work. Wind nudged the yellow slicker. The woman flinched, eyes shining. That's my brother, she whispered. Not him, the living one. Mara tasted old copper fears. This storm wouldn't pass quickly. Lights failed along the pier. Darkness gathered like expensive cloth. Somewhere beneath, engines kept breathing. She wrote three names down. One was already crossed out. Two waited in the rain. She pocketed the river stones. Numbers itched under her skin. Somebody counted while he died. Rain held the harbor hostage. Mara raised her head, listening. The killer was still listening.