Chapter 8
1203 Words
Uncle Darius
The knock came just after noon. Elena was sitting at the kitchen table.
Again.
The investigation file remained open in front of her. Coffee sat untouched beside it. A notebook filled with observations occupied the remaining space. The setup looked increasingly concerning, at least according to Lily. The knock came again—three sharp taps.
Confident. Familiar.
Elena glanced toward the clock. Then toward the front door. She wasn't expecting company. Which usually meant one of two things. Lily had forgotten something. Or—A smile appeared before she could stop it. She already knew.
The moment she opened the door, a familiar voice boomed through the porch.
"Tell me you're not spending another beautiful day buried in paperwork."
Darius Blackwood stood on the doorstep.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Silver threaded through dark hair at his temples. A relaxed smile softened the sharp lines of his face.
Despite being in his late forties, he still carried himself like someone capable of handling almost anything, including difficult nieces.
Especially difficult nieces. Elena laughed.
"You say that every time you visit."
"Because every time I visit, you're buried in paperwork."
He held up a bakery box.
"Fortunately, I came prepared."
Elena immediately stepped aside.
"You're forgiven."
"Of course I am."
Darius entered the house with the confidence of someone who had been doing so for years, which he had, ever since Elena was a child, long before she and Ronan had started dating. Long before, she had become part of the Blackwood family's future. Darius had always been there. Birthday parties. Graduations. School plays—family dinners.
The dependable uncle who remembered every important date and somehow always knew when she needed someone to talk to. Even after Ronan died. Especially after Ronan died.
The smell of fresh cinnamon rolls quickly filled the kitchen. A peace offering. And an effective one. Darius set the box on the counter. Then noticed the documents spread across the table. His smile dimmed slightly.
Not disappearing. Just softening.
The way it always did when Ronan came up. The grief in the Blackwood family ran deep. Even a year later.
"Still looking?" he asked quietly.
Elena followed his gaze. To the reports. To the photographs. To the questions.
Always the questions.
"Trying to."
Darius nodded.
No judgment. No lecture.
One of the things she appreciated most about him was that, while most people told her to move on, he didn't. Darius never did. Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat. The old wood creaked beneath his weight.
"What are we investigating today?"
Elena hesitated. Then slid the report across the table.
"The missing page." His expression remained perfectly calm.
Almost too calm.
Though Elena didn't notice.
"Missing page?"
She explained. The numbering. The gap. The inconsistencies.
The feeling that something wasn't right. Darius listened patiently. Hands folded on the table. Occasionally nodding, occasionally asking questions, and never interrupting. The conversation felt comfortable.
Safe. The way it always had.
When she finished, he leaned back in his chair. Considering.
"Hm."
"Hm?"
"Hm."
Elena rolled her eyes.
"Very insightful."
"I know."
"Darius."
He laughed.
The sound was warm and familiar. Then his expression became thoughtful.
"You know, missing paperwork happens more often than you'd think."
The words sounded reasonable.
Logical. Normal.
Exactly the sort of thing a rational adult would say.
Unfortunately.
Elena wasn't feeling particularly rational.
"Maybe."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm not."
Darius studied her for a moment.
A long moment.
Long enough that something uncomfortable flickered through her chest.
Not fear. Just awareness.
The realization that he seemed unusually interested in her answer. Then the moment passed. His smile returned.
"You were always stubborn."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It depends."
"On what?"
"Whether you're being stubborn about eating vegetables or investigating mysterious deaths."
Elena groaned.
Darius looked entirely too pleased with himself. The conversation drifted. For a while. Toward safer topics. Town gossip. The bakery. A recent fishing trip that had apparently ended with Darius falling into a lake.
Twice.
The mental image improved Elena's mood considerably. Eventually, however, the conversation circled back. As it always seemed to. Back to Ronan. Back to the woods. Back to the questions. Elena hesitated.
Then asked, "Do you think something happened out there?" The smile vanished.
Not completely. Just enough.
The change was subtle. Almost impossible to notice.
Almost.
"What do you mean?"
She looked toward the window. Toward the distant forest. The trees stood motionless beneath the afternoon sun.
Silent. Watching.
"I think..." She paused. Trying to find the right words.
"I think something happened to Ronan out there."
The room grew very quiet.
Too quiet.
For the first time since arriving, Darius didn't immediately answer. His gaze settled on her.
Careful. Measuring.
Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. Gone almost instantly. Then he smiled again.
Warm. Comforting. Familiar.
"Elena."
The tone alone made her shoulders tighten. It was the voice people used when they were trying not to hurt you. The voice people used when they believed you were wrong.
"You need to be careful."
Not the answer she'd expected.
She frowned.
"Careful of what?"
"Obsessing."
The word landed harder than she expected. Darius sighed softly.
"Grief makes us search for explanations."
"I'm not imagining things."
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation. Without doubt. And somehow that made it worse. Because he genuinely believed he was helping.
"I'm just saying that sometimes there isn't a mystery."
The words hung between them. Elena looked away. Toward the woods again. Toward the place where every unanswered question seemed to lead. Maybe he was right. Maybe there wasn't a mystery. Maybe she was chasing ghosts. Maybe grief had convinced her there had to be more. And yet—
The missing page.
The tracks.
The silver fragment.
The howl.
Nothing felt finished. Nothing felt explained. A strange tension settled over the room.
Brief. Subtle.
Then Darius stood. The moment breaking immediately.
"Enough serious conversations."
He grabbed another cinnamon roll.
"Tell me something embarrassing about Lily."
Elena laughed despite herself. The tension dissolved, just like that. The conversation moved on. Normal again.
Easy. Comfortable. Safe.
An hour later, Darius finally left. Promising to visit again soon, reminding her to eat actual meals, and threatening to recruit Evelyn if she continued surviving on coffee and stubbornness.
The usual.
Elena watched from the porch as his truck disappeared down the road. Then she turned toward the woods. The unease returned almost immediately. There was a feeling that something important had happened during the conversation. Something she'd missed. Something just beyond her understanding.
Inside the truck, several streets away, Darius glanced into the rearview mirror. His smile was gone, completely gone. The warm uncle. The comforting family friend. The patient listener. Vanished. His jaw tightened. His grip on the steering wheel increased. For a long moment, he stared at the road ahead.
Thinking. Calculating. Worrying.
Because Elena Hart was asking questions, and questions had always been dangerous. Especially when they led into the woods, especially when they led toward the truth, his expression had become unreadable by the time he reached the edge of town. And for the first time in years, Darius Blackwood felt something dangerously close to fear.
- Writer
