52 Barn Street

◾CHAPTER I◾

The beginning of the end...
February 17,

"I thought it best you hear this from me first." Detective Stuart motioned for me to have a sit. I did, albeit reluctantly, while he sat back behind his sturdy mahogany office desk.

He leaned his elbows on the desk and clasped his fingers underneath his jaw, his posture stiff, broad shoulders rigid and eyes calculating as usual.

"This is about my father's case, isn't it?" My heart constricted in anticipated dread. Fear crept in slowly but steadily.

"What's going on?" I whispered, feeling the rhythmic thump of my heart.

Detective Stuart let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his clean shaven head.

"Your father's case has been put on the back burner. It is now officially classified as a cold case."

Profound silence reigned while I held a shaky breath. It hurt, I couldn't deny that. I felt like someone pulled the metaphorical rug from under my feet.

Could this hurt any worse?

"Danica, I know you feel like I failed you, I feel like that too. I want you to know that I did every and anything humanly possible for this not to happen. But the decision was not totally up to me. It pains me to say this but I'm sorry‚" His shoulders slumped.

"There has to be something that can be done!" I wanted to voice that out, but couldn't bring myself to.

"So, this is it?" I said rather, "The end, just like that?" I scoffed.

"There are no new leads unfortunately and-"

I rose abruptly from my seat, cutting him off from whatever he was going to say. The chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor.

A part of me knew this was probably going to happen, it was only a matter of time. I only wished I could steel my heart against this.

I wondered if my father would want me to carry on with my life a year later like nothing happened. Travel, vlog, take pictures, have fun. I couldn't. I just couldn't.

It was like I could audibly hear his voice ringing in my ears;
"fight and fight and don't stop until there's no more fight left in you"

I still had a lot of fight left in me.

"Danica, please listen to me-"

I drew to a halt at the door with my trembling fingers wrapped around the door knob and casted Detective Stuart a look over my shoulder.

"This isn't the end. It's just the beginning."

And that was a promise I knew I would keep.

Then, I just didn't know how much it'd cost me.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

It was mid-afternoon already and although it was still bright and sunny, I wouldn't be fooled by the weather.

Growing up at Aldewell had taught me to never trust the weather because it could be quite unpredictable. I would hardly be surprised if it suddenly started raining cats and dogs.

I parked my car a few blocks away from where I had intended to go-the place where my Dad was murdered.

It had been a little over a year now but crime-scene tape still marked out most of the surrounding areas.

I slid on a pair of glasses and carefully locked my car, making sure to double check it was properly locked.

It didn't take too long to reach the abandoned warehouse. A really large, sturdy structure looming tall in a sinister way. It played its part of being an abandoned warehouse down to a 'T' with its barricaded windows, peeling paint and stained, moss covered walls.

Suppressing any fear creeping into my mind, I stepped into the warehouse through it's worn out, rusty metal doors before I could change my mind and back out.

As expected, the air inside was thick and dusty. Damp filled walls covered the otherwise somewhat empty warehouse.

I took careful steps forward while taking in my surroundings, a rather daunting task considering how dark it was inside. Goose bumps rose along my arms.

How much I hated horror movies yet it seemed I was walking into a scene of one, a cliché horror movie scene in an old, abandoned warehouse.

I found what I was searching for-the murder site. The exact spot where my father breathed his last. It was swept clean as I had expected. The police had scoured the place for as much evidence as possible until they were sure none were left.

I had this irrational belief that there would be something left, something miniscule or insignificant that probably may have been overlooked by the investigation team and would give me a new lead.

I scoffed at my naivety. Of course this place would have been thoroughly scrutinized by professionals. I wasn't a detective or anything of such sorts, just a naive travel vlogger.

Maybe it had to do with the defeat I felt or the fact that I could imagine my father's lifeless body lying on the ground next to a stack of empty crates but the air around me seemed to be twice as suffocating as it was before.

Even the warehouse seemed darker, if that was any possible.

I clutched my phone, my only source of illumination, as I tried to find my way out of the pseudo torture chamber I found myself in.

I ignored the squeaks of scurrying mice and any other sounds I thought-no, prayed- I had imagined.

If I had been terrified before, what I felt now was raw horror. The sounds I heard, they weren't at all imagined. The cold, hoarse voice that spoke next was a proof of that.

"Now, what's a princess like you doing in a pig sty like this?" The heavily accented voice spoke.

I gulped.

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