Investigating Alone

Chapter 1: Last Chance Assignment

Inspector Riley had a reputation. Some called her a maverick; others, a fool. She had caught more criminals than anyone at Scotland Yard, but her methods, reckless and wild, left a trail of broken bones and smashed windows. Today, she was summoned to the office of Chief Superintendent Hargrove, a man who lived by the rulebook, bound and gagged by the protocols Riley despised. She entered his office like a storm, the faint scent of whisky on her breath, her eyes bright and unyielding.
Hargrove's office was austere, like the man himself. Dark wood, a heavy desk, and a clock that ticked loudly enough to make you aware of every passing second. Riley stood before Hargrove, her stance defiant, though she knew what was coming."Inspector Riley," Hargrove began, his voice as cold as a winter's morning, "Your methods have cost this department dearly. Property damage, injury reports, and let's not forget the public relations disaster last week."Riley met his gaze without flinching. "The target was caught, wasn't he? And I'd do it again if I had to."Hargrove's lips pressed into a thin line. "This is your last chance, Riley. One more incident, and you're out. No appeals. No second thoughts."Riley's heart quickened, but her face remained a mask. She nodded, bracing herself for whatever came next. She was ready for any challenge, any case that might redeem her, but Hargrove's next words shattered her expectations."There's a small matter in Wrenwood. A baker named Tom Hardy has disappeared. The local constabulary thinks he's run off, but the village folk are whispering about foul play.""A baker?" Riley's voice dripped with incredulity. "You're sending me to chase down a runaway baker?""Yes," Hargrove said, his eyes hard. "Consider it a test. You solve this case, you're back in. You don't, and we'll have your badge. Understood?"Riley's jaw tightened. She was many things — reckless, stubborn, perhaps a bit unhinged — but she wasn't a quitter. "Understood," she said, taking the slim file he slid across the desk.Wrenwood was a dot on the map, a village forgotten by time. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and secrets were buried deep, if they existed at all. The file on Hardy was thin: a few photos, a perfunctory report from the local constable, and a note from the baker's wife, pleading for help.Riley left the office with a sense of purpose, her mind already racing through the possibilities. She had a train to catch and a case to crack, however mundane it seemed. She packed her bags quickly, not bothering with the niceties. This wasn't a holiday. It was a lifeline.The train ride to Wrenwood was long and uneventful. The countryside rolled past, a blur of green fields and grey skies, as Riley reviewed the scant details of the case. Tom Hardy was a man of routine, it seemed. Up at dawn to bake his bread, seen every morning by the villagers as they queued for their daily loaves. Then, one morning, he wasn't there. His shop was closed, the oven cold. No sign of struggle, no note, nothing.Riley arrived in Wrenwood just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and wood smoke. She pulled her coat tighter, feeling the chill of the night seeping in.The village inn was a ramshackle building with creaking floors and a proprietor who eyed her with suspicion. Riley was used to it. Her reputation had preceded her, even here. She took a room, dropped her bags, and headed straight to the bakery. The door was locked, but a quick flick of her wrist and a slender piece of metal took care of that. Inside, the air was stale, the shelves empty. She moved through the small shop with the careful tread of someone used to finding trouble in the unlikeliest of places.In the back room, she found the first hint of something wrong. A scuffed floor, a chair overturned, a small smear of blood on the counter. Not much, but enough to tell her that Hardy hadn't left of his own accord.Riley stepped outside, breathing in the cold night air, her mind racing. She'd need to talk to the locals, dig into their lives, their secrets. She knew they wouldn't welcome her questions, but that had never stopped her before.As she turned to head back to the inn, she felt the prickle of eyes on her back. She spun around, her hand on the knife in her coat pocket, but saw nothing. Just the darkness, thick and oppressive, and the whisper of wind through the trees. Someone was watching her. She could feel it.The game was on, and Riley knew she'd have to play it fast and hard. This wasn't just about a missing baker anymore. It was about her career, her pride, and maybe, just maybe, her life.Tomorrow, she'd start asking questions, poking into places where people didn't want her. Tonight, she'd sleep with one eye open, her knife close at hand. Wrenwood had secrets, and Riley was determined to uncover every last one of them, no matter the cost.The clock was ticking, and Riley's time was running out.