The Forgotten Room

Detective Ethan Cole stepped into the dimly lit apartment, the scent of stale coffee and dampness hanging heavily in the air. The victim, a reclusive writer named Clara Simmons, had been found dead in her study, surrounded by stacks of yellowed manuscripts. The police had ruled it a homicide, and Ethan was determined to uncover the truth.

“Ethan!” called Officer Kelly, waving him over. “You need to see this.”

Ethan approached the cluttered desk where a young officer stood, staring at a peculiar note. “What have you got?”

“It’s a letter addressed to Clara. It was found in her typewriter,” Kelly said, handing it over. The words were frantic, almost incoherent.

Clara, they’re watching you. Trust no one.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Ethan wondered aloud, turning the letter over to look for any additional clues. “Did she have any enemies?”

“None that we could find. Just her and her cat, apparently,” Kelly replied, rolling her eyes. “But she did have a book coming out next month. Maybe someone didn’t want it published.”

Ethan frowned. “Let’s dig deeper into her life. She must have had connections—friends, editors, someone who could shed light on this.”

They split up to talk to Clara’s acquaintances, and after hours of questioning, one name kept popping up: Victor Harris, her former writing partner. As Ethan drove to Victor’s home, a sense of unease settled over him.

When he arrived, he found Victor pacing the living room, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Detective Cole, what’s going on? I just heard about Clara. This can’t be happening!”

“Do you have an alibi for last night?” Ethan asked, observing Victor’s fidgeting hands.

“Of course! I was at home, writing,” Victor replied, his voice shaky. “I didn’t have anything to do with her death!”

“Do you know anyone who would want to harm her? Anyone who had a motive?” Ethan pressed.

Victor hesitated, biting his lip. “She had been receiving strange calls lately—people threatening her about the book. She didn’t take it seriously, but I did. I warned her!”

“Did she tell you who was calling?” Ethan inquired.

“No, she wouldn’t say. Just that they wanted her to stop writing. It’s all so absurd!” Victor exclaimed, frustration bubbling over. “I told her to go to the police, but she laughed it off.”

Ethan left Victor’s home with more questions than answers. He decided to return to Clara’s apartment, hoping to find something he had missed. The moment he stepped inside, he felt a chill in the air.

“Clara, what were you hiding?” he murmured, scanning the room. His eyes landed on the door to the study, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and was immediately struck by the sight of Clara’s manuscript scattered across the floor.

As he bent down to pick them up, he noticed something peculiar. One of the pages had a small hole punched in it, like a secret compartment. Curious, he flipped through the pages, his heart racing as he uncovered a folded piece of paper hidden inside the spine.

Unfolding it carefully, he discovered a list of names—those who had shown interest in her book, some of whom were known for their ruthless reputation in the publishing industry. But there was one name that sent shivers down his spine: Victor Harris.

“Kelly!” Ethan shouted, pulling out his phone as he raced toward the door. “We need to go back to Victor’s place!”

He arrived just in time to see Victor hastily packing a suitcase into his car. “Victor!” Ethan yelled, sprinting toward him. “Stop right there!”

Victor turned, panic etched on his face. “What is it?”

“Don’t play innocent. I found the list. You’re on it,” Ethan declared, his voice firm. “Why would you want to hurt her?”

“I didn’t! She was going to ruin everything!” Victor shouted, his composure unraveling. “She was going to expose the truth about the publishing house. They had their hands in some shady deals, and she was going to write about it!”

“Is that why you killed her?” Ethan pressed, stepping closer. “Because she wouldn’t back down?”

“No! I wanted her to be safe!” Victor exclaimed, desperation filling his eyes. “I thought if I could scare her into stopping, maybe she’d listen. But I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

Just then, the sound of sirens filled the air, and Ethan watched as Victor’s face paled. “You’re done running,” Ethan said, pulling out his handcuffs.

As they moved to apprehend him, Ethan felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The truth was finally coming to light. Clara Simmons had not only been a victim but also a silent witness to the darkness within the industry. And now, her story would be told, even if she couldn’t tell it herself.