Another day, another stack of unresolved mysteries.
The assistant steps into the dimly lit office, the weight of the files balanced precariously in his arms. He moves with quiet precision, setting them down on the desk with a muffled thud. The detective, leaning back in his chair, slips his glasses from his nose and surveys the pile with an unimpressed stare.
"The unsolved cases, sir," the assistant mutters, adjusting his cap as if it might shield him from his superior's sharp gaze. Silence lingers.
The detective exhales, running a thumb along the worn edge of the file at the top. The name etched onto the cover makes him pause. Emily Bishop. his lips curl into a humorless smile. "Remember?" His voice drips with sarcasm as he flicks the file open. The assistant nods once, twice. "The officers couldn't crack it," he affirms, tone even, almost rehearsed.
Another pause. The detective stares at the case details—the faded ink, the scattered reports. Then suddenly, as if struck by electricity, he straightens, slides his glasses back onto his nose, and gestures sharply. "Get me everything we have. Every scrap of data. We start now."
The assistant doesn't hesitate. The room shifts from stagnation to urgency. The past won't stay buried—not tonight.
YOU ARE READING
Null Record: Where data lies and memory betrays
Mystery / ThrillerThe blood on my hands are invisible to them. But I see it, feel it. It is like a whisper I cannot escape. - Aeri Hwang People always think the dead stop talking. They d...
