Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA51Z76W6Z192P708NECJH

# The Fog on Wexford Lane Rain hammered the cobblestones outside Wexford Manor, drumming a rhythm that matched Detective Sarah Cole's racing heart. She'd received the anonymous call an hour ago, warning her something terrible had happened. The manor's gates stood open, swinging slowly on rusted hinges that hadn't moved in years. Inside, candlelight flickered through grimy windows, casting long shadows across the overgrown garden. Cole parked her car and stepped out, boots sinking into the muddy gravel path. She pulled her coat tighter, bracing against the wind that howled through ancient oak trees. The front door hung ajar, creaking softly as if inviting her forward. She drew her flashlight, its beam cutting through darkness thick with dust and secrets. The foyer smelled of decay, old wood, and something faintly metallic beneath it all. Cole's light found the staircase first, then the crumpled figure at its base. Lord Edmund Wexford lay motionless, his silk robe stained crimson beneath the chandelier. His eyes stared upward, frozen in an expression of pure, unadulterated terror. Cole knelt beside him, checking for a pulse she already knew wasn't there. Behind her, floorboards creaked, and she spun around, flashlight raised defensively. No one appeared, yet the temperature seemed to drop several unsettling degrees instantly. Somewhere upstairs, a clock chimed midnight, echoing through the house's hollow, waiting silence. Cole realized then this case would haunt her for years to come.