Ridgecliff PD, Digital Forensics Lab – 10:15 AM
Sofie's workstation was a hurricane of browser tabs, spreadsheets, and half-drunk lattes. Two monitors glowed red-blue in the dim room: one scanned web archives, the other showed company registries. Under her fingers, her phone buzzed constantly — alerts from team chat, emails, social media flags.
She'd been burning the midnight oil to trace Kelvin Richardson, the name that–like a beacon in the fog–had emerged on the whiteboard. Now, three hours later, she had something.
On her left screen was the OnlyFans corporate site for South-East State, UK. A nested menu showed "Regional Operations, Managerial Head: Kelvin Richardson." Clicking down, she found:
Email: [email protected]
Phone: +44 20 7946 0XXX
Board Role: Former Investor, Eris Noir Films (2017–2020)
She frowned. Eris Noir was the shell studio tied to the Trial One video leak. He'd funded horror shorts through 2019, disappeared after the bankruptcy in 2020. A blacklist file in her archives noted lawsuits and asset seizures. And now, he managed the region's biggest adult content platform.
Sofie opened the group chat and began to type.
---
> [RTPD Homicide – Core Team]
Sofie: "Update on Kelvin Richardson:
1) Managerial Head, OnlyFans SE (UK)
2) Ex-Investor, Eris Noir Films (2017–2020)
3) Email & phone number is confirmed.
Next: Summon for questioning. ETA uncertain. Meanwhile, knife en route to forensic lab for DNA/comparison.
A new starting point."
A few seconds later:
> Tyson: "Good work, Sofie. Let's get him here fast."
Judith: "Copy. I'll prep summons."
Paul: "Forensics ready for knife. Will flag any trace matches."
Scott: "I'll check pigment on blade against artist paint codes and blood samples."
Sofie smiled as the team rallied. For once, she felt they had direction.
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Ridgecliff PD, Evidence Room – 11:05 AM
The knife, swabbed and sealed, sat on a stainless-steel table. Paul and Leigh examined its curvature and handle pattern, while Darnell dusted for prints. Scott, fresh from a cup of terrible station coffee, watched.
Scott: "Make it quick. Every minute counts."
Leigh raised an eyebrow. "We'll drop everything if we see a match. But we also need to catalog every fiber."
Scott leaned in, inspecting the residual smear on the blade's edge. "Paint pigment from Trial One matched theatrical latex. If that lines up with fingerprints or DNA, we can tie the pieces together."
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Ridgecliff PD, Kühl's Desk – 11:30 AM
Robert returned from processing initial 2B/2C interviews. He dropped a ring of keys on the desk and rubbed his temples.
Robert: "They keep calling me back to calm down Mrs. Patel in Apt 3A. Said her cat was missing. I gave her a flashlight and told her I'd check the hallways."
Brendon gestured to him. "Hang tight — got another call coming in."
Robert froze mid-cup of coffee. Brendon listened to the scanner patch:
> Dispatch: "All units, minor disturbance reported at 12 Oakwood Crescent. Neighbors complaining about howling late at night."
Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Oakwood Crescent? That's our sidequest. Grab your vest."
He turned to Judith.
Brendon: "We'll handle the disturbance. Robert, check on Mrs. Patel later. We'll reroute Camren to assist you."
Robert nodded, relief flickering. "On it."
---
Oakwood Crescent Prescient
Oakwood Crescent was a modest cul-de-sac of semi-detached houses, each with a small front yard. Streetlamps sputtered; hedges rustled in the soft breeze. Most residents were humans — families, retirees — looking warily from behind curtains. In Ridgecliff, a lone wolf-anthro in uniform triggered stares deeper than curiosity.
Brendon and Judith cruised slowly, lights off, engine idle. The howls had been reported at 3 AM — like a siren song echoing through the trees, stirring old superstitions.
Judith whispered: "People still freak out about wolves."
Brendon gave a rueful shrug. "It's not exactly subtle. They see the ears and tail, and they think… DANGER."
In the distance, a low, plaintive howl echoed. Judith's ears twitched; Brendon's nostrils flared.
A few houses down, Mr. and Mrs. Davies stepped onto their porch, arms crossed. Mrs. Davies clutched a knitted shawl, Mr. Davies hovered behind with a flashlight.
Mrs. Davies called out: "Officer! We heard… something. Screaming? Howling?"
Brendon stepped forward, hands raised in calm. "Evening, ma'am. Just checking things up here. We're responding to a complaint about noise. Everything okay here?"
Mr. Davies cleared his throat. "It's nothing, just an animal. We think it's a fox… or a coyote."
Judith crouched to the hedge, peering through leaves. "No dogs, no pets around here. I don't see a fox den… or a coyote."
Brendon patted her shoulder.
He looked back. "I'm going to check by the communal green at the end of the Crescent. You two, if you hear it again, call us. Don't go outside alone."
Mrs. Davies nodded vigorously. Mr. Davies flicked off the porch light.
Brendon and Judith moved down to the central green — a small, overgrown patch with a broken fountain. The howl came again, faint but clear.
Judith: "There."
They followed rustling sounds into the bushes by the fountain, bramble snagging their boots.
Behind a tangled hedge, they found a teenage boy — a half-wolf half-fox hybrid—shivering, hood pulled over low. His leg was twisted.
Brendon knelt. "Hey, are you alright?"
He flinched. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare anyone."
Judith knelt beside Brendon. "What happened?"
Boy (voice trembling): "Thought I heard my cat… she ran off. I was looking. I tripped on this root and… couldn't move."
Brendon helped him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you some help."
As they escorted him back, a faint thump sounded — a raccoon scurrying in the trash. Brendon glanced at Judith. They had been chasing ghosts.
At the Davies's porch, the couple stared in relief.
Mrs. Davies: "Thank you, officers. We… we're sorry."
Brendon offered a reassuring smile. "All in a night's work."
He and Judith returned to the car. Judith exhaled.
Judith: "Wolf-man saves boy from forest ghost."
Brendon grinned. "Feels good, yeah?"
Judith rolled her eyes. "Let's just get back before they summon the coroner for that damn raccoon."
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Ridgecliff PD, Homicide Core JIC – 1:45 PM
By midday, the knife was sealed in evidence, photos uploaded, and test samples en route to the lab. On the big conference screen in the Just-In-Case room, Sofie's final chat message appeared next to Brendon's photo attachments:
> [RTPD Homicide – Core Team]
Sofie: "Kelvin Richardson ID confirmed. Summons draft is ready to send. ETA for initial interview: 48–72 hrs.
Scott: Knife en route — Lab says 6–8 hrs for preliminary results.
Sofie: Also remember the symbol from Ashwood Pines linked to Whitney's earliest vids? I am currently drafting a digital map on it ro find out it's origin."
Tyson: "Good. Let's prepare questions. Brendon, Judith, Robert—reassign to public safety until we get Richardson in."
Brendon: "Yesss... boss."
Judith: "Copy that. Starting outreach to neighbors near Oakwood Crescent."
Robert: "Standing by, sir."
Brendon watched as the green checkmarks flicked in next to each name. For once, the team had a clear lead: a real person, a corporate executive with ties to the shell studio.
He rose from his seat. "All right. We move in phases. Phase one: prep for Kelvin's interview. Phase two: forensic match. Phase three: chase any digital traces — bank transfers, IP logs, chat logs. We're closing it in now."
He felt the old spark — purpose, focus. The noose around the killer's neck would only tighten.
Outside, the rain had started, gentle drumming on the roof. In Ridgecliff, storms came in whispers first — just like justice.