The café felt empty, though a few regulars lingered, their whispers low and uneasy. Yellow police tape still fluttered outside the back alley, a sharp reminder of last night's horror. Hazel moved behind the counter, her hands shaking slightly as she wiped it down for the fifth time. Every clink of a mug or rustle of paper made her jump.
She hadn't slept well, images of Gerald Lacey sprawled among the trash haunting the corners of her mind. Questions crowded in faster than customers in the morning rush: Who would do this? Why here?
The bell above the door jingled, and Hazel froze before taking a slow, cautious breath.
Detective Callum Reed stepped in, tall, imposing, yet calm, as if nothing in the world could shake him. His eyes swept the café, taking in the sparse patrons, the clean but tense atmosphere, and finally, Hazel herself.
"Ms. Thompson," he said, his voice low, carrying a weight that made Hazel straighten instinctively. "We need to go over some details from last night."
She swallowed, forcing her voice steady. "I told the officers everything I saw."
"Good. But some things are easier to explain in a quieter environment." He pulled a notebook from his pocket. "Let's start with your evening routine. Closing time, trash… anyone around?"
Hazel recounted the night in precise detail, noting every step, every sound she'd dismissed at the time. She hesitated when she remembered a muffled argument she thought came from the street but could have been anywhere.
Callum's pen scratched across the page, and Hazel felt the scrutiny like a physical weight.
"Did Gerald have any enemies?" he asked, eyes never leaving her face.
She shook her head. "Not that I knew. He was polite, maybe too cheerful at times. I never thought…" Her voice faltered. She had never imagined someone would end up dead.
The detective leaned back slightly, as if studying her for truth in a way that made Hazel's stomach tighten. "I'll need a list of everyone who might have had access to the alley or the dumpster."
Hazel bit her lip. "I… I can try. But I don't know anyone who would…"
A sharp tap on the side door drew both their attention. Hazel turned to see Mia, her best friend and part-time barista, holding a folded piece of paper. Her hands were shaking slightly, lips pressed into a tight line.
"I found this on the back step," Mia said.
Hazel took the paper carefully, unfolding it with trembling fingers. Written in uneven, hurried letters were the words:
"Keep quiet, or you'll be next."
Her breath caught. The café suddenly felt colder, the hum of the espresso machine sounding too loud, too intrusive.
Callum moved closer, taking the note from her hands and slipping it into an evidence bag. His eyes were sharp, and his voice, calm but dangerous, cut through the tension.
"Ms. Thompson, it seems you're now personally involved. Whoever left this wants to intimidate you. I need you to stay vigilant and cautious."
Hazel's jaw tightened, the familiar stubbornness flaring. "I can't just sit back and do nothing. Someone dumped a body in my café's dumpster. I want to know why."
Callum's gaze lingered on her, unreadable. "Curiosity is a double-edged sword in situations like this. But I won't lie, you do have a knack for noticing details."
She gave a faint, bitter smile. "A knack I didn't ask for."
He nodded, finally giving a small, almost imperceptible acknowledgment of her determination. "I'll have officers patrol the area tonight. Don't take unnecessary risks."
Hazel watched him go, every step measured, leaving behind a trail of authority and quiet tension. Once the bell above the door stopped jingling, she leaned against the counter, heart pounding.
Someone wanted her silenced. And whoever it was… wasn't finished yet.