4338.213 · August 1, 2018 AD
Blood on the Shed Door
Some partnerships survive on trust. Others survive on what neither person says aloud. Sarah returns from an interview she was thrown out of, lies about entering Luke's house, and watches Karl's face change when she mentions the fixed window. The ice thickens. Hours pass in hostile silence. Then Adelaide calls with news that transforms everything Sarah thought she understood about Luke, about danger, and about whose blood might matter most.
Sarah returns from the Gladys interview Claiborne threw her out of. Karl wants answers. She offers carefully measured truths: they didn't find anything, the premise was secured. Nobody answered the door.
Oh, and the broken window's been fixed.
Karl's face changes. Sarah watches him closely, measuring every micro-expression, every tell. The question explodes from him before he can stop it: Are you spying on me?
The ice between them solidifies. Professional. Empty. Cold.
Hours pass in uncomfortable silence. Then Santos calls from Adelaide with a courtesy update. Luke arrived at his parents' house before lunch—elderly neighbour saw him in a taxi. But now nobody's home. Both family cars still there. No forced entry. Nothing disturbed.
Except one thing.
A single drop of fresh blood on the shed door. Still wet. Forensics are combing the property for human remains.
Sarah leans forward, the case temporarily overriding their personal cold war. Whatever Luke is up to, he's been incredibly calculated. They just need something that holds up in court. One piece of undeniable evidence.
But blood always finds a way to keep talking.
And Sarah's blood is on the body under the stairs.
