Chapter 13

Elias's POV

I asked for permission to leave the auction house early. I told everyone I wanted to rest, but that wasn't the real reason. The truth was, I needed some time alone. So many things had happened, and my mind was full of questions.

When I got home, I sat quietly in my living room. The house felt empty and silent.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Someone was at my door.

I frowned.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," I said to myself.

I didn't have many friends, and no one usually came to visit me. The knocking continued, louder this time.

I stood up slowly but didn't open the door right away.

"What if it's someone dangerous?" I wondered.

I looked around the room and saw my father's old baseball bat leaning against the wall. I picked it up, just in case I needed to protect myself.

Holding the bat tightly, I walked to the door.

"Who is it?" I called.

A calm voice answered.

"It's Detective Ortega from the State Police.

I froze for a second.

What does a detective want with me? I thought. Could this be about Damon? Or something else?

I looked through the peephole before opening the door. A man in a neat police uniform stood outside. He looked calm and patient.

I opened the door just a little. The man smiled kindly and showed me his police badge.

"I'm Detective Ortega," he said. "May I come in? I need to talk to you about something important."

After checking his badge carefully, I unlocked the door and stepped aside.

"Please come in," I said.

Something told me this visit was about to change everything.

I let Detective Ortega into my house, but I stayed alert.

My guard was still up.

After everything that had happened, I could not bring myself to trust anyone.

I pointed to the couch.

"You can sit down," I said.

Detective Ortega thanked me and sat quietly. For a few moments, neither of us spoke. The room felt heavy with silence.

Finally, I looked at him and asked,

"Detective Ortega, what brought you to my house? I hope everything is okay."

He lowered his head for a few seconds before speaking.

"I'm sorry to tell you this," he said softly. "Before Detective Adrian died, he gave me one last job."

I frowned.

"What job?"

"He wanted me to protect you at all costs. He believed that someone dangerous is coming after you."

I let out a small laugh, but there was no happiness in it.

"Danger?" I said. "My whole life has already become dangerous."

I shook my head.

"How do you expect me to trust you? Detective Adrian is dead. You have no proof that he really sent you."

Detective Ortega nodded.

"I understand why you feel that way," he said. "If I were in your place, I would also have doubts."

Without saying another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"I knew you might ask for proof," he said.

He unlocked the phone and opened an audio recording.

"This was the last conversation I had with Detective Adrian."

He pressed the play button.

The room became quiet as we both listened carefully. My heart started beating faster.

Whatever was on that recording could change everything.

After listening to the recording, I finally believed Detective Ortega.

It really was Detective Adrian who had sent him.

For the first time since he arrived, I let my guard down.

I placed the baseball bat beside my chair and sat on the couch.

To be polite, I poured him a glass of water.

"Thank you," he said as he took the glass.

He looked at him for a moment before asking,

"Did Detective Adrian tell you anything else before he died?”

I nodded slowly.

"Yes,"I replied. "He was trying to tell me about a place. He believed there was important evidence there. He said it could help solve your father's murder case."

"What place?" He asked me.

I sighed.

"That's the problem."

"He never got the chance to finish. Before he could tell me the location, the phone call suddenly ended."

The room became quiet.

After a few seconds, Detective Ortega spoke again.

"I don't believe Detective Adrian died in a normal traffic accident."

I looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"He was murdered," Ortega said firmly. "Someone wanted to stop him because he was getting close to the truth."

A chill ran down my back.

Whoever was behind all this was making sure that anyone who learned the truth never lived long enough to tell it.

I lowered my head and thought carefully.

If Adrian never finished telling me where the place was... then how can we find it?

Suddenly, an idea came into my mind.

I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out my father's old pocket watch.

It was the last thing he had given me before he died.

I stared at it for a few seconds, then detective Ortega asked me.

"Do you remember," I asked quietly, "did Detective Adrian say anything about a direction... or anything that could help us find that place?"

I leaned forward, thinking hard.

"There might be something,"I said. "Let's think carefully. Even the smallest clue could lead us to the truth."

The room became silent again as we both searched our memories, hoping one forgotten clue would point us to the place Detective Adrian had died trying to protect.

I looked down at my father's pocket watch. The small compass inside was moving.

A few seconds later, it stopped. It was pointing toward the Moretti family's house.

Detective Ortega took the watch from my hand and looked at it carefully.

Then he pulled out his phone and typed the coordinates into a map.

After a few seconds, an address appeared on the screen.

82 Junet Street.

He looked at me and smiled.

"I know why the compass pointed to the Moretti house," he said.

I frowned.

"Why?"

"You didn't enter the coordinates correctly before," Ortega explained. "The wrong numbers led you to the Moretti family's house. But now we have the correct location."

I felt a little relieved.

"So... what do we do next?" I asked.

Ortega thought for a moment before answering.

"We'll go there after sunset," he said. "It will be safer if we move at night. There will be fewer people around, and we won't draw much attention."

I nodded.

"That makes sense."

He stood up and put his phone back into his pocket.

"I'll send you the address," he said. "Meet me there at exactly ten o'clock . Don't be late."

"I'll be there," I replied.

He gave me one last nod.

"Good. And until then, stay inside your house. Don't tell anyone where we're going. If someone is watching you, we don't want them to know our plan."

"I understand," I said.

He opened it, looked outside to make sure everything was safe, then stepped out.

A few seconds later, I heard his car drive away. I looked down at my father's pocket watch again.

I had a feeling that tonight would finally bring me one step closer to the truth about my father's murder.