Chapter 2 - The Predator and the Portent

Danny flinched, his whole body seized by a visceral terror. Detective Ote stood at his full, imposing height, a predatory silhouette against the bright morning. He was just as chilling, just as fundamentally wrong, as he had been two years ago.

"No... No," Danny whispered, shaking his head frantically. The memories of the detective’s relentless, cruel interrogations flooded back, cold and sharp.

"Hello again, Danny Bowen." Ote’s smirk was a thin, vicious curve.

"No... No..." Danny’s breath hitched. Fear constricted his throat until he was hyperventilating, the edges of his vision beginning to blur once again.

"It seems you are back to your old tricks. Only this time, nobody will be able to help you." Ote stepped forward, his movement swift. Before Danny could scramble away, Ote gripped his collar, hauling him violently to his feet.

Officer Net tried to intervene. "Sir, please!"

But Ote shoved him aside like a nuisance, spinning Danny around and slamming him against the cafe’s cold glass window. The impact stole the air from Danny's lungs. In a dizzying rush, Ote wrenched his arms back and snapped the cuffs shut.

"I got you this time, you twisted bastard," Ote hissed, his spittle hitting Danny's cheek.

"No! I didn't! It wasn't me!" Danny cried out, struggling against the excruciating grip the detective had on his arm.

"Sir, stop! He is a witness, not a suspect!" Officer Net pleaded, his voice rising in protest.

"Did I ask for your opinion, officer?" Ote roared, his volume drawing the horrified focus of the growing crowd. "This bastard killed his own best friend two years ago, using this exact method! Now he shows up at a similar crime scene. Coincidence? I highly doubt it."

"This is discrimination! None of that is true!" Danny shouted, desperation raw in his voice.

"Oh, you think I care? I couldn't nail you last time, but this time... oh, you are mine." Ote grabbed his arm, preparing to drag him toward an unmarked car.

A primal survival instinct took over. Danny dug his heels into the pavement. He had a profound, icy premonition about the man and a worse one about that vehicle. He knew, with a certainty that chilled his blood, that he could not get into that car.

"Are you resisting arrest, Bowen?" Ote didn't wait for an answer. A sharp, brutal punch landed on the side of Danny’s head, knocking him instantly to the ground. Gasps and shocked intakes of breath erupted from the onlookers.

Dazed, Danny shook his head, his eyes watering. He noticed the flashing red lights, the crowd, and several passersby raising their phones to record the scene.

"No," he managed, inching away from the detective on his hands and knees. "I am not resisting. I just refuse to get into your car."

"Why you little—!" Ote’s voice boomed, thick with rage, as the surrounding whispers intensified.

Danny shrank back, dread filling his stomach. As Ote advanced, face contorted in fury, Danny’s vision flickered. Around the detective, a terrifying optical anomaly appeared: a subtle, shimmering black mist seemed to ripple outwards from Ote's shoulders like oily smoke. Danny blinked, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them, the mist was gone, but Ote was no longer advancing.

"With all due respect, sir," Officer Net's voice was sharp, steady, and utterly confident. He was standing directly between them. "I believe Mr. Bowen is a crucial witness, not a suspect. Since you insist on arresting him, I will take him into the station myself."

Ote stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Why? Why should I allow this?" he spat, redirecting his fury.

"Because I feel profoundly uncomfortable with this situation and even more so with your behaviour sir," Net replied, holding Ote's furious gaze. "I will also be reporting this incident to my superior."

"I am your superior!"

"Then I will take this higher than you. Now, if you will excuse me, I will take Mr. Bowen in." Officer Net turned, immediately crouching down to help Danny to his feet.

"I am so sorry about that, Mr Bowen," he murmured as he walked him quickly toward the cruiser, separating Danny from Ote's toxic presence. "I don't know why Detective Ote has it out for you, but I will do everything to limit your interaction with him. Please, just come down to the station with me."

Danny nodded, the fear still a painful vice around his chest. "I figured this would happen," he mumbled, the words heavy with resignation.

"Why is that?" Officer Net asked, opening the rear door of his cruiser.

"Because this is exactly what happened last time," Danny replied.

Officer Net paused, holding the door open. "Last time?"

Danny nodded again, sliding into the back seat. Officer Net shut the door, walked around, and got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, pulling away from the growing police perimeter.

"Could you tell me about the last time, Mr Bowen?" he asked gently, keeping his eyes on the road.

Danny swallowed, the tears threatening to overwhelm him again. "Two years ago, my best friend, Alex, was killed. We were working together, investigating the cold case of my parents' deaths. We were staying in a cheap hotel, and suddenly, we heard a commotion downstairs. He jumped up, pulled me to the bathroom, shoved me inside, and locked the door."

His voice cracked. "I opened it, but the look in his eyes... he pushed me back again, silently motioned for me to lock it, and I was frozen. It was like a spell."

"What did you hear then?" Officer Net asked, his tone still perfectly calm.

"Silence, for a few seconds. Then, the slam of our bedroom door opening."

"Why didn't you try to leave the bathroom?"

"I don't know. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to move, to run, to help, but his gaze had me pinned. His eyes held such profound sorrow, but also this fierce, desperate determination. As if he knew he had to protect me, even if it cost him everything. I still don't understand how or why it happened."

"Why were you investigating your parents’ case?"

"They were killed when I was young, but the official story always felt wrong. Alex and I started researching when we were sixteen. No one took us seriously. Three years ago, we finally found a promising lead and spent a year chasing it."

Officer Net nodded slowly. "Is this distrust of the police, of Detective Ote... is this where it started?"

Danny sighed. "It started there. But it was Alex's murder that cemented it. I was the only witness, and Detective Ote—he tried everything to pin it on me."

"Why? You said you were together."

"Because the hotel cameras were down that night. No one admitted to hearing the disturbance I heard downstairs. And the only forensic evidence at the scene was mine, Alex's, and an unknown DNA sample. Mine and Alex's made sense—we stayed there. But they completely ignored the unknown sample. They were fixated on me being the killer."

"What was the sight you saw when you left the bathroom?" Net asked, throwing the question out like a forensic fact.

Danny stared out the window as they came off the motorway, the grey sky mirroring the despair in his chest. "It was a scene of horrors. There was scratch marks everywhere, the room was in disarray yet..." He took a shuddering breath. "But that wasn't the weirdest part."

"What was weirder than that?" Officer Net asked, his voice faint with a tremor.

"Alexs chest had been ripped open yet there was no blood around his body or in it.’. His family pretends that he never existed, and Detective Ote is convinced that I killed him ."

"No blood..." Officer Net repeated, sounding sickened. "Where was the unknown DNA found?"

"On the door handle, and on Alex's necklace."

"That sounds like something out of a horror film," Officer Net said quietly, pulling up to the back entrance of the precinct. "But still, I can't understand Ote's hatred."

"He interviewed me first," Danny explained, tears welling again. "I was in shock, unable to speak or move. That frustrated him, made him think I was hiding something. He called it an act."

"Did you ever manage to talk to him?"

"The next day, yes."

Officer Net parked the car. He looked back at Danny, his gaze full of grave concern. "Why couldn't you speak on the day of the murder, Danny?"

Danny leaned his head against the cold glass, the tears finally flowing freely as he unburdened his heart. "Because he was my best friend," he whispered, broken. "The person I loved with all my heart. I just shut down. I lost everything again that night. My world came crashing down, and I couldn't find the strength to pick up a single piece."