Soft jazz music plays in the background, the gentle and smooth rhythm matches my mood, the feeling that comes with the success of closing yet another case, uncovering the truth and looking through the illusion.

In a careful manner, I peel off the last photo from the crime board, the once thought victim's smile now rivals that of her mugshot. Tucking the image into a folder labeled 'Case 2024-10: Milia Hartam.'

My mind begins to unwind as I pack up my board. "Twenty-five years, and it still gets to me," muttering to myself. "The lies, the deceit, the illusions. You'd think I'd be numb by now."

I wrap the strings around the board's markers, my hands moving with practiced efficiency.

"Never trust the obvious, the biggest mistake people make is seeing things exactly the way they are. Everyone is keeping a secret..." My voice trail off as my gaze sweeps the cluttered office. Files, notes, and crime scene photos papered the walls. Each case is a reminder of the darkness humans are capable of.

"Stay detached, stay objective. Emotions cloud judgement," I remind myself, echoing the mantra that's kept me sane all these years.

But even so I find myself getting drawn back to the madness, the darkness. Solving the case isn't what my job is all about. It's unraveling, uncovering the truth. The process is what keeps me alive. It's been a while since I've had a case captivate me, everything I've been doing for the past year isn't me. I want a challenge, a great, difficult, complicated case. Not dig up high-profile embezzlement or uncovering conspiracy in the government office. I want murder, and I want it now.

I zip up the evidence bag. "Case closed." And check my watch, past midnight. My head whip in the direction of my floor-to-ceiling window, the city comes to view, it's alive and busy. "Time to hit the pub." My eyes cut to my desk, to the nut sitting on the stack of folders on it, my stomach churns at the sight of it. "Or not."

As I close the case file, a faint hum fills the room - my phone. Taking it from my pocket, my eyes narrow at the incoming text from my partner.

Ocean: Reyes family estate. Missing person. Supposed to be high profile. ETA?

My gut tighten. Another case, another illusion to shatter. If only I could take it. Missing person is the one case I never touch. I made a vow the day I became a Private investigator. I would do anything in my power to solve everything brought to me, everything except 'missing person' and my partner knows this. The reason she sent this message is unclear, especially when she should be on a flight to Barbados.

Pressing the lock button on my phone, I return it to my pocket.

With one last glance at the now-empty crime board, I walk to the mini fridge in the corner of the room and open my eyes, scans the empty fridge with a suppressed groan. My gaze drift in the direction of the coffeemaker to see the pot still full, the scent of coffee fills my nose, making me scrunch and shake my head as my sense of smell plays trick on me.

Returning my gaze to the fridge. "Oh, Vera... what am I going to do without you?" I close the fridge and rise to my full length.

I make my way to my corner, where my large wooden desk is. Grabbing the plate with the nuts, I pick one and toss it into my mouth as I settle on the leather chair. Swiveling the chair in the direction of the window, the stunning view of the Hudson River comes to view.

As I watch people walk, some on bicycle. A single thought comes to mind: the greatest lies are the one we tell ourselves.

It's New Year and everyone has a resolution. Most of them won't even think about it until next year when they make another one. Lying is a part of human nature, and the ones we tell ourselves are so convincing than the one we tell other.

I see them laughing, grinning ear to ear, joking, and can't help but wonder what are they all capable of?

Swiveling the chair in the direction of the wall, eyes connecting with the deep gray wall of framed cityscape and black-and-white photographs adorning the walls. My lips part in a loud yawn. I drop the plate on my desk and cross my arms as I close my eyes.

Sleep is a foreign concept to me these days, haven't gotten any since I started investigating the sex scandal of a renowned politician. I remove my right hand and touch the desk, my palm connecting with a book, which prompt me to open my eyes. A worn notebook with coffee color cover and the initial MJ glaring back at me.

"The greatest lies are the ones we tell ourselves," I repeat and open it, but before I can read the content inside, the door flies open.

Who dares!

My head snaps in the direction of the door to see my partner, Vera walk in the same outfit she left in almost two hours ago, tight blue jeans that hugs her skin, ripped at the knees, gray top and black leather jacket with pairs of steel boots. The only difference is her usual bare neck now bears a choker with the letters VK on it. And her black curly hair that's always packed messy on her head is flowing, falling down her back.

Her lips curls in a smirk at the look on my face. She steps in without shutting the door, her hands clutching two paper bags. "Burning the midnight oil," she teases as she comes closer. The dim light shines on her, making her golden brown skin glows with each step. "And eating nuts from a week ago," she says with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Clearing my throat and shaking my head to snap out of whatever trance I'm about to go into. "And you're supposed to be on your way to Barbados," I remind her in a cool, low tone.

It's not easy for us to go on vacation, and she's been talking about going since last Halloween, she finally got a chance to leave but instead she's here.

"Don't act like you know what to do without me, and my family aren't leaving Barbados, I'll visit later." She shrugs like she doesn't care, but I know her more than that and without having to read her body language, I know she wouldn't just turn back without a real reason. "I brought a guest," she announces with a grin.

It better not be a client.

Footsteps approaches before the guest present himself inform of an old acquaintance. At the sight of him, I rise and watch the man I once looked up enter my office.

Eric Wilcox stands tall, his broad shoulders and chiseled features hide his rugged charm. His piercing brown eyes has soften with age, the skin around his eyes are sagging now, something I will tease him about later. His once rich black hair has given way to distinguished gray, neatly trimmed. His brown skin remains smooth, though his face etch with fine lines and creases. In his signature black suits and brown trench coat.

"Eric." I breathe out his name in shock because he is the last person I was expecting to walk through my door, not after how we left things and stayed away from each other for the past eighteen years. I cannot believe he's here.

The old man smiles, his eyes don't hold any resentment or hatred.

"What are-" chuckle awkwardly, "doing here?"

He closes the distance between us and shows me his palm and urges me to do what I would normally do when I see his palm. I cover his palm with mine and we do our secret handshake while Vera drops the paper bags on my table, my gaze catching the emerald rock on her finger, and my inside melt at the sight of it.

Vera, who must have sensed my discomfort, retract her hand and dips it into her pocket. Eric's hand pat my shoulder, bringing my attention back to him.

"Good to see you, son," he says and separates his hand from me. He takes a step back and his eyes roam me. "You look better in real life. The photographs don't do you justice."

I chuckle and look into the bag Vera dropped on my table, one of them contains food and the other is filled with treats: candies and gums, all favorite. Facing her, I mouth 'thanks' to her.

She removes her hands and blows me a kiss, her engagement is nowhere to be found, which improves my mood.

My sight follows Eric as he walks about my office with his hands behind him like he's accessing a crime scene. Glancing at Vera, who's sitting on my desk, her hand digging into my candy bag. "What's he doing here?" I whisper.

She takes her hand out, which is full of candies and sweet. "I don't know," she lies and shrugs.

It has to do with the message she spent minutes before her arrival.

"What brings the infamous Commissioner Wilcox to the Big Apple?" I ask. "That basket city of hell ran off handsome faces."

It must be something big for him to come down here himself. It's New Year, and I know how much Eric loves to celebrate the holidays with his family, and given how we left things, I'm sensing it something discreet and off the books.

Eric stands still and looks over his shoulder as he says, "still the same old Michael, but different."

"He uses Knox-"

"It's Knox-"

Vera and I speak at the same time. we share a look and chuckle. Vera looks away first.

He resumes his walks, stops in front of our prize table, a sigh leaves me as I know what's coming next when he sees a familiar object. "I can't believe you still have this." He referring to the vintage typewriter he got me. "The art of deception is not about finding the right answer, but about asking the right question," he reads and translating the framed quote next to it in Latin.

"Your office is..." his words cut off when he faces out command center where we have our state-of-the-art computers and surveillance equipment. "You're... I wasn't expecting this much tech."

"It's all me." Vera takes credit for her work.

While patience has always been one of forte, I'm getting impatient and uneasy with each second. Having Eric is bringing old memories, the ones I want and need to stay buried.

"I have a feeling you didn't come to remind me of my name or make comments about my office." Enough beating around the bush.

The old man sighs and faces me. "I have a case for you," he voices out.

I knew that.

"Is it murder?"

He scoffs and shakes his head at my enthusiasm. "God, no!"

"No."

Vera jumps down from the desk. "Don't mind him, Commissioner. What's the case about?"

"Missing teenager," he answers.

I know that and missing person aren't my cup of tea.

"Presumed dead?" I ask to cover based before rejecting.

"No."

I shake my head. "Big fat no."

"Uncovering conspiracy and embezzlement are how we keep the lights on around here," Vera reminds me, the things her mouth isn't saying, I can hear in her tone, begging me to reconsider.

"Solving murders that cops can't is how I can afford my cars and penthouse."

Vera tsks while Eric scoffs. "And how many murders did you solve last year?" he asks, to taunt me. Every single one of my case makes the news because they are high profile, but somehow I didn't get murders last year. It's like everyone that died last year was of nature cause, nothing that requires the help of a private investigator.

"The girl's name is Maggie Reyes," Eric continues, saying her name like it's supposed to mean something to me.

Lowering myself on my sit, I cross my legs. "Don't care."

"Knox," Vera whispers, I look at her and she frowns at me. I should be mad at her, she knows I don't take missing person's case, never.

"She's been missing for a week," Eric adds.

I press my hands together and drop them on my lap to prevent them from trembling. "No one bothered to find her when she didn't show up on Christmas morning?" I'm sure someone must have--

No. No, no. Why am I thinking about the case? I'm not taking it.

"Her father is Mayor Reyes. He has an election coming up in three weeks and wants to keep this out of the news." Revealing the reason he came. "He called in a personal favor, and I'm calling in a personal favor. I'm bringing you in," his tone is no joke and his eyes pining me to the spot tell me I don't want escalate things.

"Still no." Standing my ground. Me of people should know the past never truly stay there, but I will not let him use my past to blackmail me into doing what I swore I would never do. And this isn't calling in a personal favor, it's a reminder of what he did for me.

Mayor Reyes means Blackstone, and Blackstone means her.

"Cops can't do anything without alerting the people, and press have been watching Mayor Reyes like hawks, waiting for him to slip up," he tells me. Something in his tone tells me he admires this Mayor Reyes.

"No."

"It's in Blackstone City."

Already deduced that. "Fuck no!"

"Yes," Vera squeals. "We get to see where you grew up," she says with a level of excitement that should be banned.

"No one knows that place like you, Michael," he says, trying to appeal to my better nature. The one thing I don't have.

"I'm sure a lot has changed since the last time I was there. Eighteen years is a long time for a place to stay the same," I reply.

"Michael," he calls my name in a warning. In the past, I would have to succumb to it with just that town.

Rubbing my eyes, I get up and level with him. "I made a vow to never return to that shithole."

He lets out a heavy sigh. I get a read on his body language, how his shoulder stoops low even though his chin is up in confident. His tell, and that's how I know he's about to say something I won't like.

"Inez Campbell-Reyes thought bringing you in is best." Curling my fingers inward in a tight fist as I match Eric's glares. He's not here to play and he will not take no for an answer. "I agreed. You know Blackstone, all the hidden corners. You're good at tracking people. This job is perfect for you and they're willing to pay triple the amount you're billing."

Vera stifles a squeal.

"I'm not sure they can afford triple," I mutter.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, hope underlying his tone.

"The girl." I look at Eric, "she's Inez's daughter?"

He gives me a small nod.

That undo me as I let out a small sigh.

"Let me see the case detail," I succumb.

"Are we going?" Vera asks. Not sure I get why she's excited, this morning she couldn't stop talking about going to visit her family.

Eric removes a folder from his coat and tosses it on my desk, I grab it and open, looking through the file. Her case detail isn't thorough:

Missing Person: Photo attached.

Name: Margarita 'Maggie' Reyes

Age: 18

Occupation: Student

Last Seen: Leaving her home on Friday (December 24)

Location: Reyes Family Estate

Circumstances: Maggie didn't come out on Christmas morning, her car remained parked in the garage, her phone and wallet were gone, and they couldn't be traced.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I see the date she was last seen is, why did they wait a week before reporting her missing? That is suspicious, no.

"Can I think about it?" I ask without looking away from the file, my eyes glued on the photo attached. The girl isn't smiling, her piercing blue eyes is cold, skin is pale, her strawberry blond hair reminds me of Inez.

"Our flight leaves in two hours," Eric informs us. "Kiss your partners, feed your dogs and pack for a month because you are not coming back to New York until you've found Maggie Reyes."

Vera squeals again.

I wanted murder, instead I broke my vow and took a case of a missing person.

Maggie Reyes, where are you?

*****

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello, my fellow mystery lover!

How are you doing?

First, I'd like to say thank you for taking a chance on me. This is my first time writing a mystery novel (with a subgenre of psychological thriller). I had fun writing this one. I hope you guys have fun reading it as well.

let me know what you think about the chapter in the comment section. 

Don't forget to vote, comment, and share.

I welcome you all sleuth onboard. Let's find a missing girl!