Victor tapped his fingers restlessly on the edge of the table, the old wood creaking beneath his knuckles. "We have to start digging. Properly. These murders…We barely know anything. And going in blind is just stupid."
Eliza tilted her head. "Go on."
"Well," he said, sitting up straighter, "we need to look at their files—the victims. Age, background, habits… anything that links them. Maybe the local police station has archived news clippings or death records. Something old, something people have forgotten."
Eliza nodded, the dim light catching in her eyes. "There's a section in the Thornfield Public Library—back hall, second floor. Barely anyone uses it. Full of old town records, newspapers, even personal letters donated by residents. If something unnatural is tied to that graveyard, someone's written about it. Or tried to."
Victor's gaze drifted to the window, where the wind rattled the glass. "And maybe we talk to the professors. Or the historians who still live around here. Someone must know something. Even a rumour's better than silence."
Lorenzo nodded.
Victor exhaled slowly. "We split up tomorrow. Lorenzo and I will check the library. Eliza, you talk to the university folk. Ask about the disappearances… or anything odd near the cemetery in the last decade."
A faint hum of energy sparked.They didn't have a map, but they finally had a direction.
Outside, the rain had stopped. A hush had settled over the town, thick and waiting, like the breath before a scream.
Victor stood and adjusted his coat, his voice low. "We're going to dig up whatever this town buried. And this time, we don't let it stay hidden."