Raindrops softly tapped on the glass, beaded off, and ran down the milky, dirty pane in tiny rivulets. A flickering, small lamp lit up the tiny office space. It was barely big enough for the old, worn desk and the filing cabinet behind the desk chair. A big pinboard hung on the wall, littered with photos that clearly showed that they had been taken without the knowledge of the people depicted. Thin, reddish threads stretched across the board, forming a web almost impossible to tell apart.

A sigh shattered the silence, followed by a creak as a well-trained, tall man leaned back in his chair. His light brown hair was cut short at the sides, but the long strands of topcoat stood out, messy and tangled in all directions. A dark beard framed his stern features as grey eyes gazed up at the ceiling while he massaged his temples.

In front of him, among countless papers scattered hopelessly across the table, was a small nameplate, dimly lit by the light from the laptop:

𝐑𝐲𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫

The shrill ringing of his phone made the strong body flinch. The office chair wobbled as he pushed the papers aside in a jerky, erratic movement until he found the small, brightly lit screen. His heart beat faster in his chest for a moment, worried that it might be one of his customers and something might have happened.

Frowning briefly, his thumb finally wiped the surface before he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Viltarin Detective Agency, Ryker Viltarin, how can I help you?" he answered in a deep, raspy voice.

The other end was silent for a while. So quiet that he could only hear the breathing of the person he was talking to. The already stern features of the brown-haired detective became even darker as he frowned. He was on the verge of simply ending the call when a voice on the other end of the line finally spoke up:

"Hey Raven..."

The sound of his nickname completely derailed his stern features. They cracked like glass falling to the floor and went blank as his body instinctively tensed.

Raven. He hadn't heard that nickname in years. Not since he'd left the army, the Seals, because of his injuries. And that wasn't something he remembered fondly. Getting his life back on track had taken him much strength and perseverance. He had had to fight his way from the bottom to the top to get to where he was now: he was probably the best-known private investigator in Echo Bay.

"It's me. Dylan, Dylan Conner. Do you remember me?" continued to sound from the mobile phone while Ryker struggled to keep his composure.

Dylan Conner. It took a moment, during which his mind rattled, for the image of the brown-haired Seal mate to come together in his mind's eye. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and pushed the burgeoning memories back into the corners of his consciousness, where he shut them away with an iron grip.

"Dylan... it's been a long time, how are you? Still with the Seals?" Ryker started a small talk, even though he didn't like it. "How can I help you?"

A faint, strange-sounding laugh rang out from the loudspeaker. Ryker didn't know exactly what was bothering him about it. But he didn't have time to think about it anyway because Dylan continued their conversation:

"I'm still on duty. Not much has changed in the last few years. You know the procedure, don't you, Serge?"

Another person would probably have responded to these words with a slight smile, maybe even laughed - but not Ryker. His expression remained blank and became increasingly cool. But yes, he knew exactly what a year as Seal was like: You'd be away for months, then often only home for a few weeks, sometimes a few days, before setting off again. Some found fulfillment in this life, as he once did. Until that day... Since then, there has only been pain for him.

"I don't have much time, Raven, as much as I'd love to chat about old times."

There was something again. Something in his voice...

"I need your help, Raven."

Ryker didn't blame Dylan in the least for continuing the conversation. He wasn't in the mood to think about the past.

"Where do I start?" mumbled Dylan hesitantly.

Ryker leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes thoughtfully. His mind began to work on its own.

"It's about my family. About my wife and my son," the Seal on the other end of the line finally began. "Although it's probably better to say soon-to-be ex-wife. We're going through a divorce."

Ryker listened in silence and tapped his fingers on the desk's wood. He didn't quite understand where Dylan was going with the divorce. But the puzzle slowly fell into place as his dialogue partner continued.

"When I returned from my last assignment a few days ago, they were both gone. I'm worried, Raven. The last time I saw Kaylen, she was furious. Frustrated about our breakup."
His voice dropped, and he paused for a moment before continuing.
"She didn't take good care of Liam, Raven. Hurt the boy, actually. I don't think she's capable of taking care of him. I'm really worried."
Again, he broke off. He spoke the next words hesitantly and more quietly: "I'm even afraid that she might hurt him. Out of revenge on me..."

Ryker rocked slightly back and forth in the chair. The facts sounded pretty clear to him: Some form of child abduction, if not worse. So he could understand his mate's concern, but...
"Don't get me wrong, Dylan. But isn't this more of a case for the authorities and the police than for a private detective?"

"I've already tried that, but Kay has fallen off the face of the earth. She's probably already left Oregon. So, the authorities' hands are tied. Please, you're my last hope, Raven. Please find my son and my wife."

Taking a deep breath, a sigh escaped Ryker's throat. His hand reached across the desk to the personal organizer, with just one corner sticking out of the jumble of papers. Clutching his mobile phone between his ear and shoulder, he opened the booklet and flicked through the pages. Almost every one was filled with notes and memories. Some were neatly organized, others scribbled across the page.

Humming softly, Ryker began biting his lower lip. A terrible habit that he couldn't break. He didn't have time to deal with this case. But it was about a child. And the child of a comrade with whom he had served for many years.

"Fine, I'll take care of it."

A sigh of relief could be heard on the other side. The pure relief of a father who seemed to have had more than just a tiny stone lifted from his shoulders. Maybe that's why Ryker gave in quicker than usual. He would rather postpone a few appointments than possibly find out later that a child had died. And all because he hadn't taken on the case.

"Is there anything that could help me? Her full name? Name at birth? Some Photos?"

"I still have a family photo. I can send that to you. Her birth name is Kaylen O'Brien. She has long blonde hair." There was silence again for a few heartbeats. Almost as if Dylan needed to think. "No abnormalities or peculiarities, I'm afraid. I'm worried that's all I can tell you."

Well, that wasn't much, but at least it was a first clue he could follow up on. "Good, send me the photo. Preferably to the number we just talked about. I'll see what I can do and get back to you when I know more."

"Thanks, Raven. I owe you one!"