PERFECT SHADOWS

CHAPTER 5

PERFECT SHADOWS 5

Day 4’s request came scribbled neatly on the paper slip: Grilled salmon with lemon butter. Garlic mash. Sparkling water with lime. And a vanilla milkshake.

Jaco stared at it longer than necessary. Every day it was something deliberate. Controlled. Balanced. Like she was hosting a lunch, not sitting in a prison. When Selene walked in, she wore charcoal grey. Hair tied back. Pearl earrings. Calm. Always calm. She sat, glanced at the tray approvingly.

“Second born,” she said softly, cutting into the salmon. “His name was Daniel.”

Jaco wrote it down.

“Oh, Daniel,” she almost smiled. “He was my gentle one. The boy who hugged me. Who brought me tea while I worked. Who told me he’d build me a house one day.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It was like God decided I had to find out about my children one by one. Like scales were falling from my eyes.”

She took a sip of sparkling water.

“It started small. His girlfriend, Amanda. Sweet girl. Always nervous around him, but I thought it was first love.”

She leaned back.

“One afternoon I came home early from a client meeting. I heard them in the backyard. Daniel’s voice was… different. Calm. Too calm.”

Her fingers tapped the table lightly.

“I found him holding Amanda’s wrist tightly. Not enough to leave visible marks. Just enough to remind her he could. He was explaining to her that pain tolerance was a psychological illusion. That if she loved him, she’d trust him to ‘teach’ her resilience.”

Jaco stiffened.

“She was crying quietly,” Selene said. “Not hysterical. Just… defeated. I stepped in. He smiled at me. Said they were playing.”

She paused.

“Later that evening, I asked Amanda privately if she was safe. She shook her head but refused to speak. The next week, she broke up with him and transferred to another university.”

Selene folded her hands.

“That was my first c***k with Daniel.”

But it wasn’t the worst. She took a slow sip of milkshake.

“A month later, we had a family gathering. Adrian’s niece, little Karla. Twelve years old. Smart. Curious. Daniel liked her because she asked scientific questions.”

Jaco’s jaw tightened.

“They were near the pool,” Selene continued. “Daniel had taken hydrochloric acid from Adrian’s locked workshop cabinet. Diluted, but still dangerous.”

She looked directly at Jaco.

“He told Karla he was conducting an experiment. Testing human resistance. She refused to participate. Said she wasn’t stupid.”

Her voice stayed level.

“Daniel smiled. Then he grabbed her and pushed her head under the pool water.”

Jaco’s pen froze mid-air.

“He held her there,” Selene said quietly. “Not in rage. In observation. Counting seconds. Watching her struggle. Calculating.”

“Adrian shouted. Markus ran. They pulled Daniel off her.”

Selene blinked slowly.

“The family laughed it off. Boys being boys. Curiosity. Intelligence gone too far.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“I saw his eyes, Detective. There was no panic. No remorse. Only disappointment that the experiment was interrupted.”

Silence filled the room.

“It scared them,” she said. “For a day. Then they forgot.”

She shook her head faintly.

“But I didn’t.”

She looked almost thoughtful now.

“It was like every curtain in my house had been ripped open. Eli… Daniel… the twins… Adrian. I started seeing patterns. Grooming. Normalised cruelty. Protected secrets.”

Jaco cleared his throat. “You’re describing psychological disturbance. That doesn’t justify-”

Selene raised a finger slightly.

“I’m not justifying anything yet, Detective. I’m showing you the soil. You cannot understand the tree without seeing where it grew.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“You think monsters appear overnight? They are cultivated.”

She leaned back, calm again.

“And Daniel,” she said softly, “was not born a sociopath.”

She tilted her head.

“He was trained.”

The camera hummed. Jaco felt the air leave his lungs slowly. One child violent. One predatory. Twins conditioned. A husband orchestrating chaos. A mother-in-law defending it. And Selene sitting there, composed, precise, terrifyingly aware. She picked up her fork again.

“I still have more to explain,” she said lightly. “We haven’t even touched on my sister yet.”

The room felt colder than before. The vanilla milkshake was almost finished when Selene looked up again.

“You want to know when I knew Daniel was beyond saving?” she asked quietly.

Jaco didn’t answer. He just watched her.

“It wasn’t the pool incident,” she continued. “That was practice.”

She folded her hands neatly.

“A few weeks later, Karla came over again. Adrian insisted. Said we shouldn’t isolate family over ‘misunderstandings.’'

Her voice stayed calm, almost detached.

“Daniel approached her differently this time. No force. No public scene. He apologised. Told her she was right before. Told her she was intelligent enough to understand science properly.”

Selene’s eyes hardened slightly.

“He made it sound like a partnership. Curiosity. Trust. Growth.”

Jaco felt something cold settle in his stomach.

“He told her the acid was diluted. That it wouldn’t harm her if applied correctly. That discomfort builds character.” She paused. “He framed it as bravery.”

Selene inhaled slowly.

“She agreed.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

“It happened in Adrian’s private workshop,” Selene continued. “Cameras were already installed there. Adrian liked surveillance. Said it was for security.”

Her lips pressed thin.

“Daniel didn’t flinch. Not once. Not when Karla realised she’d been lied to. Not when she screamed. Not when she begged.”

Jaco’s hand tightened around his pen.

“He recorded everything. Adjusted angles. Observed reactions. Clinical. Detached.”

Her tone never rose. That made it worse.

“Adrian walked in midway,” she said. “He didn’t panic. He assessed the situation. Calculated exposure risk.”

Silence.

“Karla was reported missing later. Posters. Candlelight vigils. Social media hashtags.”

Selene looked directly at Jaco now.

“She’s at the bottom of Buffalo River.”

Jaco’s breath caught.

“Weighted down,” Selene added calmly. “Adrian handled that part. Efficiently.”

The room felt smaller.

“She didn’t just disappear, Detective. She was erased.”

Jaco’s voice came out hoarse. “You’re telling me this now?”

Selene tilted her head.

“You asked for roots.”

He swallowed. “The video.”

A faint smile appeared.

“Adrian believed in backups. Always said physical drives were unreliable.” She leaned forward slightly. “There’s a secondary storage unit in the Marlowe estate. Study room. Behind the bookshelf. Third shelf from the bottom. The copy of The Art of War is hollowed.”

Jaco stared at her.

“Inside,” she continued, “you’ll find an encrypted drive. Password is Daniel’s birthday. He wasn’t creative.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“You’ll see exactly what my ‘sweet’ second-born Marlowe did.”

Jaco felt a wave of nausea.

“And you watched this?” he asked carefully.

Selene didn’t blink.

“I saw enough.”

The camera hummed softly.

“You want scary?” she said quietly. “Scary isn’t what Daniel did. Scary is how easily it was cleaned up. How quickly missing posters fade. How relatives convince themselves to stop asking questions.”

She leaned back.

“Scary is realising you were sleeping beside the architect of it all.”

Jaco stood abruptly, heart racing.

“Buffalo River,” he muttered, already thinking about search teams, divers, warrants.

Selene’s voice stopped him.

“Detective.”

He turned.

“You still think I acted without reason?”

Her face showed no triumph. No regret. Only certainty. The room felt colder than any crime scene he had ever stepped into. And for the first time since this began, Jaco wasn’t sure whether he was interviewing a monster or the last witness to something far worse.

...........

Detective Jaco van der Merwe left the station late into the night, the encrypted drive clutched tightly in his hand. His car cut through the dark streets, headlights illuminating the empty roads. Every stoplight and every turn made his stomach tighten. The video had confirmed his worst suspicions. He had seen enough to know what he would find at Buffalo River.

By the time he reached the riverbank, the moon hung low and pale over the water, casting silver reflections on the currents. The air smelled damp, cold, and thick with decay. The search team had set up floodlights, but only enough to illuminate the stretch where they suspected the body might be.

Hours passed. Jaco and the divers combed the riverbank, prying, lifting, moving debris. The river’s surface rippled with every breeze, hiding the horrors below. Finally, one of the divers shouted.

“Here! Something!”

Jaco sprinted over. Mud clung to his shoes. He knelt beside a broken container partially submerged, its metal edges bent and rusted, paint charred. A strange, acrid smell wafted up. The divers carefully pulled it out. The container had been burnt, twisted from the heat, but inside… the unmistakable outline of a body, small and fragile, remained. Jaco swallowed hard. The girl’s features were no longer distinguishable. The skin and clothing had been destroyed by fire, chemicals, and time in the river. He knelt down, breathing in the sharp river air, stomach turning.

“This… this is her,” he muttered quietly, voice hoarse.

One of the divers looked at him, eyes wide. “We found the container burned, broken… she didn’t stand a chance.”

Jaco ran his hand over the edge of the container, teeth clenched. His mind flashed back to Selene’s calm, clinical description. The video. The screams. The betrayal of a family.

“Get the forensic team here immediately,” he said, voice low but steady. “We need to document everything before it disintegrates further. And call the coroner. This… this will confirm her identity.”

The water lapped against the metal, whispering softly. In the silence, Jaco felt the weight of the horror settle over him. This wasn’t just a missing girl. This was the tangible proof of years of manipulation, deceit, and cruelty a reminder that Selene Marlowe’s story, terrible as it was, had been the only light to uncover what Adrian Marlowe had hidden. And now, standing at the edge of Buffalo River, Jaco realised the case had just become infinitely darker. Because somewhere in all this, the line between victim and witness, protector and killer, was more blurred than he had ever imagined.