silenced in the dark : a hunt for a killer begins.

chapter 3

As I wandered through the house, I stumbled across my mother's mini library room. I had always been curious about what lay inside, as no one was allowed to enter, including her own son. However, to my surprise, I opened the door to find a clean, beautifully packed room full of books. It was like a treasure trove waiting to be discovered.

As I wandered around the room, admiring the titles and the smell of old books, I noticed a small wooden box tucked away in the corner. Intrigue got the better of me, and I reached for the box. It was surprisingly heavy, so I wondered what could be inside.

As I opened the lid, my heart skipped a beat. Inside the box, I found an old journal filled with my mother's handwriting. My hands trembled as I picked it up, realizing that I was about to uncover a side of my mother that I had never known before. The first entry was dated 10 years ago, and as I started to read, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic for a time when my mother was still alive.

The entries were a mix of personal thoughts, memories, and reflections on life. Reading through them, I felt like I was getting to know my mother all over again. She wrote about her hopes and dreams, her fears and doubts, and her love for our family.

However, as I continued to flip through the pages, I noticed something strange. There were a few entries that seemed out of place, almost like they didn't belong in the journal. They were written in a different handwriting, and the tone was mysterious and ominous.

These entries left me perplexed, and my mind raced with possible explanations. Was my mother writing about someone else's thoughts? Or had someone written in her journal without her knowledge?

I decided to investigate further, hoping to find some clues to shed light on this mystery. As I persisted in reading through the journal, I noticed that the strange entries were all dated around the same time, a few months before my mother's death.

The more I read, the more it affirmed me that something sinister was at play. Was my mother in trouble? Had she been threatened? And if so, by whom?

My mind was racing with questions, and I knew that I had to find answers. Therefore, I decided to start by looking for any other clues my mother may have left behind that could help me unveil the truth about her death.

As I delved deeper into my mother's journal, I began to notice subtle hints that suggested she may have been aware of the danger that was looming over her. For instance, in one entry, she mentioned how she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her, even in the safety of her own home. In another, she wrote about a strange phone call she received, where the voice on the other end remained silent before promptly hanging up.

Although these clues were small, they were enough to pique my interest. Consequently, I decided to search the house for any other signs that my mother might have left behind.

Starting in her bedroom, I carefully went through her belongings. As I sifted through her dresser drawers, I came across a small, leather-bound notebook. Inside, I found a list of names, all of them unfamiliar to me except one: Joy Miller. I quickly remembered who this was, my mother's old helper who worked for her for seven years. She was always fond of her job, and we treated her like family. However, she quit, and the reason behind it was never clear. I once heard my mother saying that Joy got a better-paying job, but I didn't believe it.

I couldn't help but wonder who these people were and how they were linked to my mother. I made a mental note to look further into these names, but for now, I had to continue searching.

Next, I made my way to my mother's office. As I opened her desk drawers, I found a file labeled "Important Documents." Inside, I found a collection of papers, including a life insurance policy, a will, and a deed to the house. However, as I dug further, I found something intriguing. Tucked between the pages of the insurance policy was a small, folded paper. Carefully unfolding it, I revealed a sketch of a man's face.

The drawing was rough, almost childlike, but there was something inexplicable about it that sent chills down my spine. Although his features were vague, there was something about his eyes that seemed familiar.

I was sure I had seen those eyes before, but I couldn't quite remember when. I made a mental note to keep the sketch with me, just in case.

As I continued to search the house, I came across clues that hinted my mother was in danger. However, the more I unearthed, the more baffled I became. Nothing seemed to make sense.

Abruptly, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Fidgeting hastily, I shoved the notebook and sketch back into the file as my wife, Bella, entered the room.

"What are you doing in here?" she inquired, eyeing me with suspicion.

"Just looking for something," I replied, attempting to sound casual.

Bella's eyes narrowed. "You've been acting peculiar, and now you're snooping through your mother's belongings. What's going on?"

I felt a pang of guilt. I had not informed Bella about my suspicions, and now I was being caught.

"It's nothing important," I glibly stated. "I'm only looking to find some closure."

Bella crossed her arms. "Closure? You've been isolating yourself from everyone, including me. You can't just cut people out and expect to find answers on your own."

Before I could respond, a sudden knock sounded from the back door, interrupting us. I walked over to answer it and found an imposing man on the doorstep.

"May I help you?" I queried, my heart racing noticeably.

The man's eyes flickered over to Bella before returning to me. "I'm searching for Sarah," he stated with menace in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but Sarah is not here," I answered, striving to sound confident.

The man's face darkened. "Are you certain?"

Before I could reply, Bella stepped forward. "Who are you, and what do you want with Sarah?"

The man shifted his attention to her, and I noticed fear in her expression. I understood that I had to act, but my mind had gone blank.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but you need to leave," I declared, trying to be firm.

The man took a threatening step forward, and I felt my heart pounding with terror. "I'll be back," he promised before striding away.

Bella spun to face me, her eyes wide with fear. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," I admitted, feeling anxious. "But we need to discover."

We proceeded to the sitting room, where Bella's parents were present. So frightened was I, that I didn't even inquire when Bella arrived, assuming she had gone shopping.

Sitting down on the couch, I knew I had to come clean to Bella and her parents about everything. I explained about my mother's journal, the strange phone calls, and the sketch of the man's face.

They listened attentively, their eyes fixed on mine. When I finished, Bella let out a deep sigh.

"You can't do this alone," she said calmly. "We need to go to the police."

I nodded, feeling foolish. For the first time in years, I regretted not keeping the information away from Bella. It had been weeks since my mother's death, but there were no leads on her killer or any suspects. Even when they searched the house, they had not found any clues, but I had discovered something.

Those people are ineffectual, I thought to myself. But I had no choice but to go to them, lest Bella tries to harm herself again.

"I'll go there first thing in the morning," I said.

"Why not now?" Bella enquired. "You saw that man, didn't you?"

"What man?" Bella's father asked.

I told them about the man who had knocked on the back door some moments ago, trying to comprehend why he had not knocked on the front door. As I recalled, my mother always used the back door, and she never liked the front door. Perhaps he was her friend, but I had not seen him at her funeral.

Lost in thought, I sat quietly while Bella excused herself and proceeded to the kitchen to prepare lunch for everyone.

I sat there with her parents, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. We discussed different theories and scenarios, but none of them seemed to fit.

*************************

The next morning, I headed to the police station to report the strange occurrences.As l got into the car, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. I didn't know what to expect at the police station, but I knew that I needed to be strong.

When I arrived, I made our way to the detective's office. I knocked on the door, waiting for a response. When there was none, I pushed the door open and walked in, surprising the detective who was on the phone.

"Excuse me, detective. I need to talk to you about my mother's case," I said, my voice shaking.

The detective glanced at me, then back at the phone. "I'm busy," he said, his voice gruff.

"I found some clues at my mother's house, and I think they might lead to her killer," I said, hoping to catch his attention.

The detective slammed down the phone, turning to face me. "Son, I'm a detective, and you're a victim. You shouldn't try to be smart. You'll get hurt," he said, his voice menacing.

I felt a sense of fear wash over me, but I refused to back down. "Please, detective. I found something that might help solve my mother's case," I said, my voice pleading.

The detective sighed, but after a moment, he relented. "Fine. I'll go with you to your mother's house, but don't waste my time," he said, grabbing his coat.

We both got into our cars, and he followed me behind heading to my mother's house. As we drove, I felt a sense of excitement wash over me. Maybe we were finally going to get some answers.

But when we arrived at my mother's house, we found nothing. The clues that I had found yesterday had vanished without a trace. I regretted not taking them with me yesterday.

The detective looked at me, his eyes filled with anger. "You wasted my time. Don't ever disturb me again," he said, before storming out of the house.

I stood there, feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over me. I didn't know what to do next, but I knew that I couldn't give up. I had to keep searching for answers, no matter what it tasked.

I felt a sense of relief as he left the house, knowing that I had taken the first step in finding out what had happened to my mother. However, the clue I needed was nowhere to be found. I realized that this was only the beginning and that there was much more to uncover.

Whilst driving back home, I couldn't help but think about the notebook and the sketch. I had a hunch that they held the key to finding answers. I flicked through my phone, remembering the pictures of the journal I had taken yesterday. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to give them to the detective; however, they were not sufficient. He would have wanted the actual book.

Once I arrived home, I made a decision. I would investigate the names in the notebook and try to unearth who they were and what connection they had to my mother. I started with the name "Joy Miller" and the address listed next to it. I immediately did a quick search online and found her social media profiles.

She appeared to be living a normal life, but something stood out to me. Her profile picture featured a man with the same eyes as the sketch my mother had left behind.

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. The strange entries in my mother's journal, the enigmatic phone calls, and the man at the back door. It all pointed to one person: Joy Miller's partner.

But why would he have wanted to harm my mother? I didn't have all the answers, but I knew that I was onto something.

I made a promise to myself, and my mother, that I would not rest until I discovered the truth about her death and brought her killer to justice.