Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8QD2Y5GWHC9AJY7ZNER63

The rain drummed against the old Victorian’s peeling paint as dawn broke over Hollow Creek. A single candle flickered in the library’s drafty window, casting long, wavering shadows on the floor. Detective Mara Voss adjusted her coat collar, her breath fogging in the chilly morning air. The butler’s stiff posture suggested he’d seen something far more disturbing than morning tea. A half-empty brandy glass sat on the mahogany desk, its rim still damp with residue. The victim’s last words, scribbled on a yellowed notepad, read: *"He knows what I did."* A locked door creaked open, revealing a body slumped in the armchair, face frozen in shock. The garden outside was untouched by footprints, though the wind whispered through dead leaves. Mara’s gloved fingers brushed the victim’s cold wrist, searching for any lingering warmth. The housekeeper’s trembling voice muttered, *"I didn’t see nothin’, but the dog barked all night."* A single playing card—ace of spades—lay crumpled beneath the victim’s outstretched hand. The clock on the mantel had stopped at exactly three thirty-seven, its hands motionless as death. Mara’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting every detail that might hold a hidden clue. The scent of lavender and something metallic filled the air, clinging to the walls like guilt. A shadow moved at the window, though no one stood outside in the pale morning light. The victim’s pocket contained a torn photograph, its edges frayed from desperate clutches. Mara’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of a story no one dared to tell. The butler’s knuckles turned white around the silver tea service, his grip unnaturally tight. A faint scent of gunpowder lingered near the fireplace, though no weapon was in sight. The housekeeper’s hands shook as she clutched her apron, her knuckles bone-white and pale. Mara’s instincts screamed that this murder was far more personal than it first appeared. The garden’s overgrown roses hid more than just thorns, their petals stained with something dark. A single footstep echoed in the hallway, though no one had entered or left the room. The victim’s last breath had been stolen in silence, leaving only the weight of their final secret. Mara knew the truth would be buried deeper than any grave in Hollow Creek.