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Fiona'seyes softened, her hand reaching out to rest over Jake's on the gearshift."You don't have to apologize, Jake. Today wasn't your fault. It's not likeyou planned for a murder to happen."
Jakelet out a small chuckle, feeling the tension in the car dissipate. "Yeah,I guess you're right about that."
Fionaleaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Jake's cheek. "Thank you forthinking of me, though. It means a lot."
Jakesmiled, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Of course, Red. Always."
Therest of the drive was quiet, the only sounds being those of the car and theoccasional honk from another driver. As they pulled up outside Fiona'sapartment building, Jake turned to her. "The day's not over yet. Movienight?"
Fionasmiled, easing the tension in Jake's heart. "That sounds perfect."
***
DespiteJake's reminder that this wasn't their case, Fiona found herself unable to stopthinking about it.
It waslike an itch, and partway through the movie she was watching with Jake; shecouldn't help but take out her laptop. Fiona's fingers flew across the keyboardas she scrolled through articles about the traveling entomology exhibit, anuneasy knot forming in her stomach. The flickering light from the televisionscreen provided a ghostly ambiance to their dimly lit living room. Jake loungedon the couch beside her, his eyes fixed on the movie playing before them.
"Didyou know," Fiona murmured, "that this exhibit was founded by Dr.Isaac Black? He's a renowned entomologist and wanted to bring the beauty ofinsects to people across the country. He founded another exhibit in Nevada,although that one is stationary." She paused, a frown creasing her brow."He died, though. Cancer."
Jakesighed, his gaze shifting from the screen to Fiona. "Come on, Red, put thelaptop down and watch the movie with me. We aren't on this case."
Fionamet his eyes. She felt bad, but her anxiety was too high. "I can't letthis go, Jake. I just can't. My instincts are screaming that there's somethingmore here, something we're missing." She bit her lip, hesitating."Besides, it's hard for me not to feel responsible. This is my world,entomology."
Jakestudied her face for a moment, finally relenting with a sigh. He reached overand squeezed her hand, offering a small, supportive smile. "Alright. Dowhat you have to do. But don't forget we have our own jobs to worry abouttoo."
"Thankyou," Fiona whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude. She turned backto her laptop, her mind racing with possibilities. As she continued to researchand read about the exhibit, one question persisted: Why would someone target atraveling entomology exhibit, and what could it mean?
As the movie'sdialogue echoed through the room, Fiona delved deeper into the world of Dr.Isaac Black and his traveling exhibit. There had to be something, some clue,that could help them understand why a killer would choose such a uniquesetting. Was it truly random?
Or wasthere a deeper motive behind the murder?
Fiona'seyes scanned the screen, her fingers typing away. She clicked on an articleabout Dr. Black's life, searching for any connections that could explain whysomeone would target his exhibit. But it seemed likely this had nothing to dowith the exhibit's founder at all.
The dimglow of the television cast flickering shadows across the living room,accompanied by the hushed hum of the movie's score. Jake's breathing deepened,steady and rhythmic, as he succumbed to sleep. Fiona glanced at him, his eyesclosed and features relaxed. She told herself she'd made it up to him anotherday and felt bad that she'd neglected the time when he clearly wanted to beromantic between them. But Fiona had always been obsessive like this; whensomething was on her mind, she had to dig up every possible lead.
Shecontinued her search, navigating through articles and forums that led herfurther down the rabbit hole of Dr. Black's history. Just when she was about togive up hope, a headline caught her eye: "Murder at Nevada Museum InsectWing."
Fionaclicked on the link, her heart pounding with anticipation. As she read thearticle, she learned that a man had been found dead in the museum's insect wingjust over a month ago. The victim had been stabbed in the chest, much like theman they had discovered earlier that day.
"Stabbed...chest...insects,"Fiona murmured, her mind racing to draw connections between the two cases. Butthere was a key difference: the Nevada victim hadn't been found with a deadinsect on his body, unlike the Portland victim.
With afrown, Fiona leaned back against the couch, her fingers drumming on thelaptop's edge.
"Isthis really just a coincidence?" she wondered aloud, her voice barelyaudible above the whispers of the movie playing in the background. She thoughtabout the vast world of entomology, the seemingly endless species of insectsand their intricate, alien-like beauty. It felt strange that two murders wouldoccur in such settings, but without any concrete links between them, shecouldn't be sure.
Ormaybe I'm just grasping at straws, she admitted toherself, her words heavy with disappointment. She knew how easily the mindcould create connections where none existed, and she couldn't risk jumping toconclusions. It seemed the museum where the man was murdered was not the oneDr. Black founded. There was no connection. It happened states away, and therewas no bug on the body...
So whywas she still looking into it?
Sheglanced at Jake, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, andleaned her head against his shoulder, listening to the comforting rhythm of hisbreathing. She felt another twinge of guilt for having ignored him all evening,her mind consumed by the mysterious murders. He had been patient andsupportive, even when she was neglecting their time together.
"Alright,enough," Fiona murmured to herself, placing her laptop on the coffeetable. The room seemed to shrink as the screen went dark. She shifted closer toher sleeping partner, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. The movieplayed on, its dialogue a distant hum, but Fiona didn't focus on the words orthe images on screen. Instead, she listened to Jake's steady breathing, thesound of a tether pulling her back to the present moment.
"Sorryfor ignoring you," she whispered, more to herself than to him. It feltnatural to apologize, even if he couldn't hear her, as if saying the wordsaloud could lessen the weight of her guilt. Gently, she nestled against him,her head finding a comfortable spot on his chest. The faint scent of hiscologne mingled with the familiar smell of his skin, soothing her frayednerves.
As sheclosed her eyes, Fiona tried to push away the disturbing images that plaguedher thoughts—the lifeless body splayed across the exhibit floor, the bloodpooling around it, and the dead insect that lay on the man's forehead. Sheswallowed hard, her throat tight with the effort it took to keep those thoughtsat bay.
Focuson something else, she told herself, fighting the urge tograb her laptop and dive back into her research. She knew there must be someclue, some detail she was missing, but it eluded her, slipping away like sandthrough her fingers.
