"You ever hear the expression the simplest answer is often the correct one?" - Officer Jim Gilpin, Gone Girl 

I was at the Philadelphia Police District. The district that Ruslan Gudkova worked at.

Right now, I was missing a psychology lecture at my college. I also had a few missed calls from Cara, and even a missed text from Griffin, but I wasn't answering any of them. I was focused on what I had to do and I wasn't going to let anything distract me.

It had been three days since my dinner with the Cutkosky men, and my mind was constantly racing. I couldn't get over how they interacted with each other - how they acted like they'd rather be anywhere else but together. I couldn't get over how the death of Mrs. Cutkosky tore the family apart so badly. But then, when I remembered the murder case, it brought me back to the time Griffin took me to see Ruslan Gudkova.

This wasn't a typical murder case. Even I knew that. The hinges had been broken inside the house, there didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle, and the murder weapon had just vanished from thin air. (Until it resurfaced when it was anonymously dropped off at the station). There was more to this case and I needed to know.

"Hi," the officer by the front door said, smiling brightly at me. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and cocked her head to the side, "Is there something I can help you with?"

I could feel my nerves creeping up, but I swallowed and stood up confidently, "Yes," I said, eyes sweeping over the station before landing back at her, "I was wondering if I could speak to Officer Ruslan Gudkova?"

The lady blinked at me in surprise, and I just held my head up, trying to seem confident. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to come in and request to talk to an officer. I wasn't sure if the lady would call Ruslan for me, or just shoot me an odd look and politely ask that I leave. But even through my doubts and nervousness, I refused to back down.

"He's still on shift, but I'm not sure if he's here. I'll go check for you." The lady turned back to me, expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion, "Is there a specific reason why you're here for Mr. Gudkova?"

I smiled tightly at her, "Just to talk. Thank you."

I stood by the front doors, hands tucked into my pockets, and watched as the lady walked further back into the station. I wasn't sure if Ruslan would remember me and, if he did, if he would even want to talk to me. I just stood and silently prayed he would, because I needed to talk to someone else aside from Griffin and Cara. I needed a new opinion.

My eyes widened when I saw Ruslan walking towards me, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He was tugging on the blue collar of his shirt, green eyes locked directly on me. His lips were drawn into a tight line, and he nodded occasionally when the lady next to him said something.

Ruslan stopped in front of me, shocking me when he went, "Emmy," in a tight voice, "How can I help you?"

I was aware of the lady standing next to us, eyebrows quirked as she watched our interaction. I chose my next words carefully - I wasn't sure if anyone was supposed to know that the Cutkosky case was reopened. I had to be careful, I knew that.

"I wanted to talk to about a, um - a previous discussion we had."

Ruslan's eyes flashed in understanding. In a matter of seconds, he put his hand gently on my back and started leading me silently through the station. He didn't say anything, but I knew that he knew why I was there. Ruslan's whole posture was tense - he clearly understood why I was there, but he also, clearly, wasn't too happy about it.

Ruslan led me to a back conference room, checked the hallway, and then shut the door. There was a table in the middle of the room, a chair on each side, and I awkwardly sat down in one of them. Ruslan clasped his hands together and stood by the door, looking caught between saying something or leaving us in silence.

Eventually, he chose on: "How did you find what station I work at?"

My face flushed in embarrassment, "It was simple," I said, ignoring his sharp gaze, "I just found the district closest to Griffin's old house and hoped you still worked here."

Ruslan's jaw tightened, eyes flashing, "That's unnerving."

"Yeah, well so is the case of Mrs. Cutkosky."

Ruslan nodded in agreement, "I figured that's why you're here," he said, stepping away from the door and sitting in the chair opposite of me. He crossed his arms and frowned, "I'm surprised it's you here and not Griffin. Did he send you?"

Ruslan seemed genuinely curious about that, and I could see why. I could see why he was surprised that I came here on my own. This wasn't my mom who was murdered, and this case had practically nothing to do with me. Griffin was my neighbor - I had no affiliation with the Cutkosky. I could see why Ruslan was surprised I was there, but I kept going. 

"Griffin doesn't know I'm here. I have a few... questions," I paused, taking time to gauge Ruslan's expression. His face was blank, which was something I wasn't hoping for. I couldn't tell if he wanted me to shut up or continue, "About the case."

Ruslan blinked, "I assumed."

Ruslan was a police officer - he wasn't mean to have his facial expressions and emotions read, but it still bothered me. I couldn't tell if he wanted to hear my questions and help me with answers, or if he was going to tell me to leave right after I asked. I couldn't tell if my attempts were futile, or would amount to something.

"Fine," I said, deciding to go on. I needed answers, and I knew I wouldn't get them from Griffin, "I mean, she was stabbed to death and didn't fight back? That's absolutely insane to suffer through that without attacking. And the hinges being broken inside? You know how that sounds - you have to know. Plus the murder weapon just showing up years later? It doesn't make sense and I need someone to make it make sense before I completely lose my mind."

I was driving myself crazy with this case. None of the information that I had gotten made any sense, and it was driving me up a wall. I liked to put things together, but the pieces in this case just didn't seem to fit. No matter how many different theories I came up with, none of it ever fit together properly.

Griffin couldn't give me answers, either. If anything, he just made things even more confusing. Griffin knew how strange his mother's case was - that much was obvious. And while Griffin wanted my help with giving him rides or going to family dinners with him, he didn't want to help me. He didn't want to help me makes sense of all of this.

Ruslan ran his fingers through his dark hair and sighed, "Why does this matter to you?" he asked, an earnest expression on his face, "It's not your mother."

"It doesn't make sense and it's terrifying," I admitted, knowing what I said was right when Ruslan nodded in agreement, "The closer I get with Griffin, the more worried I get. It's driving him insane not having answers, and I'm starting to feel the same way."

Ruslan stood up again and pushed his chair in, instead opting to just pace around the room. Ruslan wasn't too old - probably early thirties - but I wondered why this case stuck with him. (It was clear it did - the case was almost a decade ago, but he remembered all the details). I wondered just how many people realized how strange this case truly was.

"There weren't any signs of a struggle. The closest we have are scratch marks in the floor from the couch being dragged across the floor, but that could have easily happened during the altercation," Ruslan swallowed and scratched the back of his neck, "I'm not going to ask how you know about the murder weapon showing up again, but yes, that is highly suspicious. The knife still had blood on it, but no prints. Absolutely no fucking prints."

I shivered.    

"Which means someone has been holding onto to it," Ruslan continued, before stopping by the door again. He rested his head against it and sighed, "No video footage of someone coming by and dropping the knife off. Nothing. It's like a reminder that we can't solve the case. A joke."

I never thought about it like that. The knife showing up was like a joke - the murderer was giving them the murder weapon, almost as if they were reminding the police that they still couldn't solve the case. The murderer was teasing the police - giving them a weapon that they could do absolutely nothing with. Mocking them.

"Just like the hinges, right?" I asked, mind whirring, a thousand thoughts running wild through my head, "Mocking you?"

Ruslan looked over at me, lips quirked into an unamused smile, "No, not exactly," he told me, "That's more to implicate someone. Emmy, you understand what it looks like to have hinges broken from the inside, don't you?"

I did. Having hinges broken from the inside showed that someone from inside the house had broken them. Having hinges broken from the inside made it seem like someone from inside had committed the crime. Whoever did that - broke the hinges from inside - had either tried to make it seem like someone broke into the house, or tried to implicate someone from inside the house.

"I'm not on the case, but, as far as I know, they'll be dropping it again soon," Ruslan said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He dropped his hands and looked over at me, "They'll be dropping the case soon and I'm sure your boyfriend won't be too happy with that."

I didn't even respond to Ruslan calling Griffin my boyfriend. I was too focused on the other part of his sentence.

"They can't drop the case!" I snapped, voice spiking suddenly. Ruslan shot me an annoyed look and waved his hand down, signalling for me to shut the hell up, "Griffin will absolutely lose it if he knows that they're dropping the case. He'll throw himself even further into it if he knows that no one else cares anymore."

They couldn't drop the case.  I knew how badly things would turn if the police decided to put Mrs. Cutkosky back as a cold case. Griffin would be even more determined to solve it, which would only lead to him throwing himself further into the case. Griffin would drive himself to the brink of madness - he wouldn't give up. 

"I can't help you with that," Ruslan admitted, his face falling. I knew once the case was dropped, there wasn't anything anyone would be able to do, "I'd say you've about a month before they drop it."

I stared up at him, a feeling of hopelessness washing over me, "What am I supposed to do in a month? Solve the fucking case? Convince Griffin to just let his mother's case go? I can't do either of those in a month."

"That's not what I meant," Ruslan said, stepping back and opening the door to the conference room. He stepped out and turned to me, holding the door open wider, "I meant get yourself the fuck out of this situation."

I reluctantly followed Ruslan out of the conference room. Ruslan led me to a back exit in the station and I followed, stepping outside and into the cold air. Ruslan walked outside next to me and, before I could walk away, called my name. I stopped and turned to him. I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear anything else. 

"Do what none of us could," Ruslan told me, eyes an intense, burning green, "Get away from this case before you can't."

</ ahh I hope you guys liked this chapter! last chapter was all the cutkosky men, so I thought we'd take a step back and meet up with someone else lol. I hope you liked this chapter! remember to let me know your thoughts :-)