Rain fell relentlessly on the cobblestone streets of the City of Shadows, casting a mysterious aura over the night. Frank Hughes, a seventeen-year-old with an average height, strikingly handsome face, piercing celestial blue eyes, and exquisitely neat black hair, walked with determination down the deserted avenue. He was dressed formally in a dark suit that clung to his athletic figure, and a long coat that billowed in the wind. Despite his youth, Frank exuded an air of seriousness that set him apart in the darkness of the night.

His steps led him to an imposing Gothic building, with arches and towers silhouetted against the nighttime sky. Frank entered confidently, unfazed by the skeptical gaze of the officers guarding the entrance.

"Detective Hughes," Frank said, displaying his badge with a calm gesture.

The officers exchanged glances, and one of them stepped forward to verify the identification. Frank was known for his precocity, but his youth still sparked mistrust in some.

"It's on the ground floor, detective. Follow the hallway at the end of the corridor to the left," the officer instructed, finally returning his badge.

Frank nodded in gratitude and continued in the indicated direction, still wondering how he had ended up on this case. He recalled the day his phone had rung, and the broken voice of the victim's mother had narrated the tragedy that now weighed heavily on his mind. Despite his youth, Frank had already solved numerous cases that had left police officers baffled. But this time, it was different.

Upon reaching the designated location, he was met with a haunting scene. The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by distant neon lights and the occasional flash of lightning that penetrated the curtains. A body lay on the floor, covered by a white sheet. As he approached, Frank noticed the bloodstains that tainted the carpet and wondered how someone could commit such a gruesome act of violence.

"Detective Hughes, I'm glad you've arrived," a deep voice said from behind.

Frank turned to find Commissioner Douglas, a stout and weathered man with years of police service under his belt.

"Commissioner Douglas, a pleasure. What do we have here?" Frank inquired.

Commissioner Douglas sighed and scratched his gray beard before responding.

"A mess, Hughes. A real mess. The body is that of Emily Sinclair, a prominent businesswoman in the city. They found her here this morning, stabbed. It seems the killer knew what they were doing; there's no sign of a struggle."

Frank nodded and approached the body. He carefully lifted the sheet and gazed at the victim's pale face. Emily Sinclair had been a woman of great beauty. Even in death, she maintained a serene countenance.

"I need full access to the crime scene, Commissioner, and any information you may have," Frank stated with determination.

Commissioner Douglas nodded and gestured for the officers to withdraw. Frank knew this was his opportunity to prove himself, despite his age.

Under the watchful eyes of the officers, Frank leaned over the crime scene, meticulously examining every detail. There was something about this place that urged him to exert himself even more. The room seemed to carry the weight of an unsettling secret.

"Look at this," Frank murmured, pointing to a nightstand next to the bed where Emily Sinclair's body lay. On it rested a photo frame showing the victim smiling alongside a young man and an older gentleman; the glass was slightly cracked at the corner. "She died clutching this photograph. After she was murdered."

The officers exchanged murmurs of bewilderment as Frank continued his observations. He studied the wounds closely, his fingers tracing the contours of the injuries on Emily's body.

"The victim didn't attempt to escape; there are no signs of a struggle or resistance. It seems she trusted her killer. She didn't even appear to react to a nearby movement," Frank muttered, lost in thought.

Commissioner Douglas nodded, and Frank knew he needed more information to solve this case. He decided to speak quietly to the commissioner.

"Commissioner, are there security cameras at the restaurant across the street from the building?"

Douglas nodded and instructed one of the officers to retrieve the footage. Several hours of tense waiting followed, during which Frank sat with his eyes closed. Finally, the officer returned with a USB drive in hand. Frank inserted the device into his laptop and began reviewing the recordings.

Finally, Frank found what he needed. In the recording, he saw Emily Sinclair entering the building, and after a brief interval, an individual exiting the building. Frank paused the video and pointed to a particular man, whose face had become familiar.

"That man is the same as in the photo, Commissioner," Frank said. "He was in her apartment at the time of her death. We need to speak with him."

Commissioner Douglas's expression reflected a mixture of surprise and respect for the young detective. With the information in hand, they proceeded to the usual places of the man until they found him. The man was named Daniel Harrington, a close friend of the victim, someone Emily trusted implicitly.

Upon arriving at a rather ordinary bar, Daniel was sitting in a corner, sipping a beer. Frank approached without hesitation and sat down across from him.

"Hello, can we help you with something?" Daniel asked with a nervous smile as Frank approached him. Commissioner Douglas, on the other hand, remained nearby, inconspicuous.

"Daniel Harrington, right?" Frank inquired in his calm voice.

"Yes, that's me. What's going on?" Daniel responded, his eyes darting back and forth between Frank and Commissioner Douglas.

Frank settled comfortably in his seat, stealing a bit of food before taking a sip of his drink. Then, he leaned calmly toward Daniel.

"Did you kill Emily Sinclair?" Frank asked with composure.

Daniel's expression shifted from nervousness to shock and then to sorrow. His voice broke as he responded.

"W-what? She's... she's dead?" he said, wiping away tears with his hand. "I could never harm Emily; she was my best friend."

Frank nodded and stood up, leaving his card on the table.

"Daniel, we need access to any information you can provide about your relationship with Emily and anyone who might have been jealous or angry. If you have more details, please don't hesitate to contact me."

Before leaving, Daniel grabbed the sleeve of Frank's coat tightly.

"I... I loved her so much... I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HER."

Frank turned around with a smile while placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I never thought you did," he finished, calmly walking away.

As they exited the bar, Commissioner Douglas asked with confusion.

"What do you mean when you said you never thought he was the killer?"

Sitting in the patrol car, Frank looked out of the window as if it were obvious.

"Simple, preparation," he mumbled, focusing his gaze on the rain falling. "A person who kills someone without leaving fingerprints, marks on the skin, or bloodstains—it's impossible for them not to notice a camera across the street."

Commissioner Douglas's patrol car moved resolutely through the drenched and dark streets of the City, while Frank lost himself in thought. Daniel Harrington's confession had not gone unnoticed by him. He hadn't seen the eyes of a killer in the young man; he felt that he had lied or, at the very least, that something had made him nervous. Guilt, perhaps? The rain fell mercilessly, adding a layer of mystery to the night. Although Emily Sinclair and Daniel had kept their relationship a secret, there was always more to it than the façade we present to the world.

The place they arrived at, the police station, seemed straight out of a film noir, a gloomy and grim building with corridors illuminated by flickering lamps. Shadows twisted in the corners, and the echo of footsteps resonated in the dark hallways. Frank and Commissioner Douglas headed to the computer room, where they began searching for Mike Collins in the database.

Frank, with his skill, started typing deftly on the computer without touching the mouse or asking the Commissioner anything. Douglas, surprised, couldn't help but ask, — How did you do that? —

Frank, without stopping or turning to look at him, calmly replied, — Do what?

Slightly irritated, the Commissioner insisted, "How did you get into my computer when I didn't give you the password?"

Frank paused for a moment and turned to look at him, shrugging with a mischievous smile, —I just tried the 5 most likely ones: address, wife's name, birthday, wife's birthday, and school.

The Commissioner just sighed as he scratched his head.

As they continued their search, Frank couldn't help but make some deductions. Emily had kept her relationship a secret, suggesting she was afraid someone would find out. The killer seemed to be aware of this relationship and knew Emily's apartment, indicating that someone close to her might be involved. Or maybe that's what they want us to believe.

— Commissioner, it appears that Mike Collins has no criminal records or legal issues— Frank reported, his expression thoughtful. —But we can't rule him out as a suspect. We need to talk to him and find out what he knows.

Douglas nodded and got up from his chair.

— Let's go, Hughes, we have work to do. This case is getting more complicated than we expected.

1

The rain continued to fall heavily as Frank and Commissioner Douglas arrived at Mike Collins's apartment. With the search warrant on the way, they couldn't afford further delays. Frank knocked on the door, but silence enveloped them. They waited for several minutes but received no response. Tension grew in the air, and the rain beat against the windows relentlessly.

— Commissioner, we can't afford to waste any more time — Frank cautioned.

Commissioner Douglas nodded, concerned, and dialed his phone to expedite the arrival of the search warrant. While they waited, Frank remained alert, his senses sharpened and his mind working at full speed.

With five minutes to go before the search warrant's arrival, Frank took the initiative. He used a paperclip from his pocket to pick the lock, successfully opening the door within seconds. —I'm not even going to ask. —

Both entered cautiously, their guns drawn. Mike Collins's apartment was silent, dark, and messy. There was no sign of life. They ventured further into the room, examining every corner. Frank noticed scattered books on the coffee table, some papers in disarray, and a sense that someone had left in a hurry.

Finally, they reached the bathroom. Upon opening the door, a gruesome scene greeted them. Mike Collins lay on the floor, his head resting on the edge of the bathtub, surrounded by a pool of blood. A gunshot to the back of his head had silenced him forever.

— Oh my God —  Commissioner Douglas murmured, shocked by the sight.

Frank, impassive, approached the body, his mind working at full speed. The situation had become even more enigmatic. What could have led Mike to end this way? Was he Emily's killer? Or perhaps he knew information that someone else wanted to silence?

— This has become much more complicated than we imagined, Commissioner," Frank said, his voice cold.

The rain outside continued to fall, as if nature itself wept for the shadows hidden in the City. As the sirens of the police approached, Frank knew they had to continue unraveling the mystery behind these tragic events, no matter how dark or dangerous the secrets they were about to uncover. The night had become even more mysterious, as if the City was weaving its web of mystery around them. Each step in that apartment seemed to reveal more questions than answers, and the enigma of Mike Collins was at the center of it all. The rain still beating against the windows was like tears from the City itself, a silent witness to the unfolding tragedy.

While Frank examined the crime scene, his mind analyzed every detail. The position of Mike's body suggested that it wasn't a suicide. There was a sense of violence in the way he lay on the floor, a violence that didn't fit the profile they had obtained of him so far.

Commissioner Douglas approached, still in a state of shock over what they had discovered. His expression reflected a mixture of horror and confusion. He rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand as he murmured quietly.

— I can't believe it's come to this, Frank. I don't know what's going on.

Frank nodded, sharing the sense of bewilderment. This was beyond what they had anticipated, and every new twist in the case seemed to take them deeper into the abyss of mystery.

— Commissioner, have you seen anything unusual here? — Frank asked as he examined the scattered objects in the room. There were documents related to people they didn't recognize and these notes... they seemed to be numbers and names that didn't make sense.

Commissioner Douglas began to review the papers and photographs with a more concentrated expression.

— This isn't what I expected to find. There are documents related to people we don't recognize. And these notes... they seem to be numbers and names that don't make sense.

Frank examined the numbers and names carefully. Nothing seemed to fit in the puzzle they were trying to solve. Emily Sinclair, Daniel Harrington, and now Mike Collins, they were all connected in some way, but the nature of that connection remained elusive.

Commissioner Douglas got up and looked out the window, his gaze lost in the rain still falling in the City. His voice reflected frustration.

— We have to keep investigating, Frank. We have to find the answers we need to solve this case.

The arrival of the forensic team marked the beginning of a new stage in the investigation. While they waited for the experts, Frank and the Commissioner continued to examine Mike Collins's apartment for clues that could shed light on what was happening. Every detail, every object, and every document became a possible link in the chain of events that had led to this tragedy.

The rain continued its serenade against the windows, and Frank knew it wouldn't stop until they discovered the truth behind these dark events. The City had revealed its most mysterious side, and Frank was determined to uncover every secret it hid. Every step in that investigation took them deeper into the abyss, and time was not on their side. The clock ticked relentlessly, and Frank knew they had to get to the truth before the darkness consumed them completely. The night bore witness to their determination as they awaited the forensics, ready to face whatever they discovered in that dark corner of the City.

Frank stood in the bathroom of Mike Collins's apartment, carefully examining the crime scene. Every detail seemed important, every corner of the room held a clue that could bring him closer to the truth. Commissioner Douglas, on the other hand, watched his young partner with concern. He had learned to trust Frank's intuition and deductive skills, but he knew that this case weighed heavily on the young detective's mind.

As they investigated the crime scene, Frank found a mobile phone lying on the floor, just inside the bathtub. It was an iPhone, and it appeared to have been thrown in an act of desperation. He picked it up carefully and examined its contents. In the photo gallery, he found several images of a group of friends: Emily, Daniel, Mike, and two individuals he didn't recognize. The photos captured moments of happiness and camaraderie, but now, all of that was overshadowed by Mike's death.

"Commissioner, we need to find out who these two strangers in the photos are," Frank said, showing the images on the phone.

Douglas nodded and instructed his team to trace the images and gather information about the two individuals in question. He knew that these photos could be a crucial piece in solving the case.

"In the meantime, we'll keep Daniel Harrington under surveillance," Douglas said. "We can't allow him to disappear or become another victim."

Frank agreed. The landscape was becoming more complex with every step they took. The relationship between Emily, Daniel, and Mike was at the heart of the mystery, and the two strangers in the photos were a crucial piece of the puzzle. Frank's mind worked at full speed, analyzing the possible connections and the clues they had found so far.

1

Hours passed, and the day turned into a cloudy afternoon in the City of Braidey. Frank Hughes was in his classroom, but his mind was anywhere but in the class. He completely ignored the teacher's words as he got lost in his thoughts, all focused on the case of Emily Sinclair and Mike Collins. Despite the apathy he showed towards the class, Frank remained the brightest student in the school, though his brilliance often set him apart from his peers.

School had always been a strange experience for Frank. From an early age, he had shown himself to be an intellectual prodigy, solving complex, university-level math problems before his classmates had learned basic addition. His deductive abilities and exceptional intelligence made him a kind of role model, admired and yet isolated. He was seen by his classmates and teachers as a superior figure, but that admiration didn't translate into friendship.

Frank had no, and had never had, friends at school. There was no one he could talk to about his interests and thoughts. He had always been alone, a solitary observer of the world around him. People saw him as an extraordinary being, an enigma they couldn't decipher. And he, in turn, couldn't relate to his classmates, who seemed to inhabit a different world than his own.

Despite his perfect memory, there was a void in his life that extended beyond school and his detective skills.

He remembered every mathematical formula, every detail of the cases he had solved, but he couldn't recall even a single important person in his life. His mother had abandoned him at an orphanage when he was a baby, and although he had no memories of her, he had discovered the truth through his intelligence. The cold and legal letters he had found in his adoption record were a constant reminder of the absence of a maternal figure in his life.

The lack of a mother and the loneliness he experienced at school were like thorns in his mind, reminding him that, despite his brilliance, he had lived a life marked by a lack of meaningful relationships. He had no friends, no family, and that made him a solitary being in a world that often seemed incomprehensible to him.

Despite his gift for memory, Frank couldn't remember his mother's face, not even a kind smile or a motherly touch. He had learned not to long for those things, to take refuge in his privileged mind and his ability to solve puzzles. But there were moments when the weight of his loneliness was overwhelming, and he wondered if he would ever find a place where he belonged, a place where someone would see him as more than just a brilliant mind.

In that classroom, sitting at his desk, Frank felt like an alien on his own planet. While his teacher talked about literature and his classmates yawned in boredom, he got lost in thoughts about fingerprints and hidden motives. School wasn't a place of learning for him; it was a prison that separated him from what truly mattered.

As he looked out the window, the rain fell in the schoolyard, a reflection of his own melancholy. He wondered if he would ever find someone with whom he could share his thoughts and emotions, someone who would see him as an equal rather than a peculiarity. But loneliness was his constant companion, and as much as he wished for friends, he knew his mind was an insurmountable barrier.

Returning to his internal monologue, he thought about how that loneliness had led him to perfect his skills as a private detective. From an early age, he had solved logical puzzles and mathematical riddles as a pastime. He learned about criminology, forensic psychology, and investigative techniques on his own, fueling his obsession with deciphering the inexplicable. The admiration he received from others drove him to prove that he was worthy of it.

2

As Frank remained lost in his thoughts during the boring class, his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. The teacher's gaze fell upon him, a gesture of disapproval for his distraction. However, Frank couldn't afford to ignore this call. He knew it was Commissioner Douglas, and that meant there were updates on the case.

"Excuse me, teacher, but I need to step out for a moment," Frank said hastily as he rose from his seat and headed towards the classroom door.

The teacher frowned, but Frank didn't wait for a response and left the room, his mind already focused on the case of Emily Sinclair and Mike Collins. Quickly, he dialed the commissioner's number as he hurried through the school's corridors.

"Commissioner Douglas, what's the latest on the case?" Frank asked urgently.

The commissioner's voice sounded concerned on the other end of the line.

"Frank, we need you to come to the police station right away. There's a new lead we need to investigate. It looks like we're getting close to solving this case, but we need your help."

Frank nodded, his mind working at full speed as he headed for the school's exit. He knew he couldn't afford to waste more time in the classroom when there were leads to follow and lives at stake.

"I'm on my way, Commissioner. Keep everything ready. I'll be there as fast as I can."

He hung up the phone and hurried towards the exit. His classmates looked at him curiously as he walked away, but Frank couldn't worry about what they thought. His mind was focused on the case, on finding answers and bringing the culprits to justice.