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Tuesday, September 19th
The ruins of the burned-down Waverly Mansion stood as a somber testament to the devastation that swept through its halls twenty years earlier. Charred timbers jutted out at odd angles, their blackened surfaces bearing witness to the ferocity of the flames that had consumed them. In the center of what was once the enormous living room, a massive fireplace loomed like a silent soldier amidst the wreckage.
Etched into the stone above the hearth was a large phoenix, its intricate wings spread wide as if poised for flight. In front of the imposing fireplace lay the pit where the burned body had been found. The charred earth bore the imprint of the new flames that had ravaged it.
A week after her hospital discharge, Olivia and Michael walked through the remnants, their footsteps careful not to kick up the decaying leaves. She gazed at the remains of the once-beautiful home, unable to shake the feeling that there were still secrets hidden within its walls, waiting to be uncovered.
“You okay, Liv?” Michael carried a forensics kit. “That was a long walk into the site.”
Olivia glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. He was more than just a companion on investigations; he was a former NYPD arson investigator who brought a wealth of experience to their partnership. His transfer to the Waverly County Police Department after moving to Waverly Junction initially raised eyebrows, but his expertise in arson cases quickly solidified his position.
She used her inhaler. “Just fine.” She slipped it into her pocket and lifted her camera, shooting pictures of the entire ruins. “I’ve lived here all my life and never hiked out here.”
She sat on the remains of what used to be a mahogany end table and sketched the hole where the burnt body of a male was found. “Why here?” she asked, less a question for her partner and more a question to the ether.
“Until we get a cause of death and ID, haven’t a clue. Ritual killing? Desolate location?” Michael put out some ideas.
“Do you see any drag marks in the woods? There doesn’t seem to be much seepage into this ditch. I’ll look a little deeper.”
With the forensic brush in hand, Olivia meticulously swept the dirt, her trained eye scanning for any overlooked clues. As she brushed away the earth, a glass vial revealed itself, an intricate phoenix etching catching the light.
“A vial with a phoenix symbol? That's peculiar,” Michael commented.
Olivia examined the vial closely, her mind racing. “This might be more significant than we thought.”
She carefully secured the vial, making notes and taking more photographs for further analysis. He watched, a silent partner in their investigative dance.
As they left the site, Michael walked beside her, their footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves littering the forest floor. There was something in his demeanor that set her on edge, a hint of too much familiarity that made her pulse quicken.
“Liv,” Michael said with a charming smile, stepping a little closer than what felt appropriate for their casual conversation. “You did great out there today.”
Olivia forced a polite smile, trying to keep her tone casual as she responded, “Thanks, Michael. It was a team effort.”
As they continued walking, Michael's words took on a flirtatious undertone, his gaze lingering a little too long and his tone a touch too suggestive. “You know, Liv, I couldn't help but notice how amazing you looked back there.” His smile widened as he glanced at her. “When I heard about the fire… God, you could have died. And considering what happened, you look like you got your color back.”
Olivia's discomfort grew with each passing moment, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for a way to politely extricate herself from the situation. “Um, thanks, Michael, but let's stay focused on the case.”
Michael wasn't taking the hint, his advances becoming more persistent by the second.
“Come on, Liv, don't be like that.” He reached out to gently touch her arm. “I promise it'll be fun. Just you and me, exploring the woods together.”
Before Olivia could respond, the sound of branches snapping nearby interrupted their conversation, and Detective Andrews emerged from the trees. “Hey, guys, your radio isn’t picking up. We've got to head back to town,” his voice cut through the tension like a lifeline. “Captain wants us back for a debrief.”
Relief flooded through Olivia as she seized the opportunity to escape Michael's unwanted advances. She shot Andrews a grateful smile and quickly fell into step beside him, eager to put some distance between herself and her overly flirtatious colleague.
She had been spared from a potentially uncomfortable situation, but she knew eventually she’d have to deal with it.
* * *
Jackson sped through the city's winding streets, heading to his adoptive parents' house on the west side of town. The quaint Cape Cod-style home, with its sloping roof and cozy dormer windows, exuded a timeless charm, nestled amidst a picturesque landscape of rolling hills and lush greenery. Painted in a soft shade of robin's egg blue, the exterior seemed to blend seamlessly with the tranquil surroundings. A neatly trimmed lawn stretched out in front, dotted with colorful flower beds and bordered by a picket fence.
A winding gravel driveway led up to the front of the house, flanked on either side by towering oak trees that provided welcome shade in the summer months. The detached garage, painted to match the house, stood nearby.
Jackson parked his truck in the familiar driveway and made his way to the front door. He knocked and slid his key into the lock. Martha Reynolds opened the door at the same time. Her face was lined with age, but, bearing a warm, welcoming smile, she opened her arms.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting soft beams of light across the hardwood floors and illuminating the comfortable furnishings that filled the rooms. In the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked cookies lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of brewing coffee. Family photos adorned the walls, capturing cherished memories of years gone by and adding a personal touch to the welcoming space.
Jackson's mother was an outwardly happy woman, but beneath her cheerful exterior lay a quiet strength—a resilience forged in the face of adversity. She had faced her fair share of challenges over the years, but she never let them dim her spirit or dampen her optimism, especially when it came to her only son.
