Episode 5

The sterile white of the crime scene tape felt like a shroud, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos that had erupted within the apartment. Rene’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drummer against the steady hum of her medication. She adjusted her gloves, the latex cool and slick against her skin, and scanned the room. A overturned lamp, its shade askew like a broken hat, lay beside a scattering of what looked like playing cards. Her gaze snagged on a single, perfect red rose lying on the Persian rug, its petals impossibly vibrant against the muted tones of the room.

“It’s a setup, Deon,” she whispered, her voice tight. “They know.”

Deon, standing a respectful distance behind her, his eyes wide and darting, nodded vigorously. “Oh, they know, Rene. They definitely know. This is a message. That rose… it’s a symbol. Like a warning. Or maybe a taunt.” He gestured vaguely with a trembling hand. “They’re watching us. I can feel it.”