Detective On Duty-Chapter 18: ME

Penelope Vance, her face streaked with tears, nodded to their request. She led them out of her home and down the quiet street to Katherine’s house, a small, tidy place nestled among a row of similar-looking homes. Eleanor pulled a spare key from her purse, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked the front door. A musty, stale smell greeted them, the scent of a room that had been closed up for too long, of a life abruptly put on pause.

"I didn’t want to get rid of my remaining strength, by wailing." Penelope said, her voice catching as she stepped inside. "So I didn’t come to the house. I wanted to only remember the good memories of my daughter and not the memories that would make me cry." She wiped her face with a handkerchief, her grief palpable in the silent room.

Miles’s eyes were drawn to Ethan and Cecilia.

They stood close together, a quiet understanding passing between them as they took in the sombre scene. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of anger. He was the only one separated from the rest, an outsider in his own team. He had even started to feel a kinship with this "rude man," as he had once thought of him. Now, he was watching him get closer to Cecilia, a woman Miles had a quiet admiration for. "No, you don’t," he thought in a flash of fury, his jaw tightening.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Finch’s words. "She has a lot of books."

Miles’s fury dissipated as he heard Finch’s voice. He looked toward the corner and saw a small pile of books on a table, next to a comfy armchair. Miles’s heart began to beat faster. He walked over to the table and reached for the book on top.

The moment his fingers touched the worn cover, a searing flash of pain shot through his head, and his vision was consumed by a brilliant, blinding light. He gasped, dropping the book and clutching his head. He crumpled to one knee, the world spinning around him.

A vision of Katherine and James, exactly as James had described, filled his mind. He saw Katherine’s eyes widen as she took in the room. He saw them talking, laughing, and then he saw the book, the very one he had just touched, in James’s hands. He saw the look of adoration on James’s face as he gave her the book. And then he saw it all, the kiss, the passionate embrace, the look of love in their eyes. The vision was so clear, so real, he could almost feel the phantom touch of her hand on his face.

The vision came to an end with a flash of pain. Miles gritted his teeth, his hand still on his head. He let out a shaky breath, the pain slowly ebbing away.

Cecilia started to move toward him, a look of concern on her face. But Mrs Penelope got to him first. "Are you alright, son?" she asked, her voice soft and worried.

Miles nodded slowly as he stood up, his legs still a little shaky. "I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed."

"What’s happening to you, Miles? It happened before right?" Ethan asked, his voice filled with concern and suspicion.

Miles forced a small, reassuring smile, shaking his head. "It’s fine, really. Just a bit tired, that’s all." He avoided eye contact with Ethan, knowing his partner’s sharp mind wouldn’t let the matter go. He had to keep this ability a secret; the system had warned him about it. He couldn’t risk revealing himself, not yet. He could see the suspicion brewing in Ethan’s eyes, a look that said, "I don’t believe you." Cecilia, however, seemed to accept his explanation, shrugging her shoulders and muttering, "Maybe it’s just what he said," under her breath.

Finch, having given him a once-over, decided to move on. "Alright, let’s start searching for anything related to the... suicide," he said, correcting himself mid-sentence to maintain their cover. "Ethan, check the bedroom. Cecilia, the bathroom. Miles, you take the parlor and the study."

Miles’s gaze swept across the room, his brain now functioning as a high-speed scanner. He began to observe every detail, his mind absorbing the scene like a camera. The old, floral wallpaper, the worn edges of the armchair, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. It was a well-practiced skill, and it was in moments like this that his unique abilities truly shined.

His eyes scanned from the bookshelves to the small writing desk, looking for anything that seemed out of place. He noticed a faint white sliver of paper tucked beneath a stack of old magazines on top of the closet. It was a subtle detail, something most people would miss.

He walked over, reaching for the paper, and pulled out what appeared to be a journal. He informed the others that he had found something, his voice low and professional.

"It’s a notebook," he said, holding it out for them to see. "But it looks more like a diary." He muttered the last word just loud enough for Finch to hear.

Finch took the book from his hand, his eyes scanning the cover. The title, "ME," was inscribed in a delicate, careful hand. He flipped through the pages, a look of grim determination on his face. The pages were filled with elegant cursive handwriting, and they were full of entries. It was definitely her diary.

Cecilia, meanwhile, had opened the closet and was sifting through Katherine’s clothes. Her eyes lit up as she found a broken necklace on the top shelf. "I think she broke this," she said, holding up a delicate pendant with a broken chain. "Maybe her boyfriend gave it to her, and she got angry when he broke up with her."

Miles took the necklace from her, a chill running down his spine. The moment his fingers brushed the cold metal, a new vision flooded his mind. It was short, blurry, and filled with a surge of aggression. He could make out a man’s angry face, a man with familiar hazel eyes. A strong, enraged hand, a man’s hand gripped the necklace around Katherine’s neck. He could see her face, a look of fear and defiance in her eyes. The image ended abruptly as the man tore the necklace from her neck, a sickening sound of metal snapping, and he heard the faint sound of the pendant shattering on the floor.

The vision stopped, and Miles felt a familiar throb in his head, a sharp, flashing pain that made him wince. ’Did James break this necklace?’ he thought, his mind racing. He was the one who had given it to her. The scene was violent, a stark contrast to the charming man he had interviewed.

"Maybe it was her boyfriend that took it from her neck and broke it in anger," he said, the words coming out in a rush as he pieced the fragments together.