In still waters. Natalie Shpet

two Japanese katanas mounted on a stand behind Bison's desk. Opposite sat a slightly smaller black leather chair for visitors. Every detail of the room exuded expensive taste and power.

      "Leave us," Bison commanded the guards, who promptly exited the office. "Well, hello Jeffrey. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

      Bison's tone was all business, tinged with an underlying strictness that put Jeffrey on edge. Despite their long association, Jeffrey genuinely respected – and feared – Bison. He spoke softly, almost pleadingly, as he took a seat in the chair opposite the crime lord.

      "I assume you've heard about what happened to my daughter?" Jeffrey began, his hands resting nervously on his knees.

      "Yes, I'm aware," Bison replied, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Shit happens. I know everything that goes on in our town. My condolences, Jeffrey. But what does this have to do with me?" He raised an eyebrow, resting his chin on his index finger as he regarded the sheriff with cool detachment.

      "I know who killed my daughter," Jeffrey said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk. "This guy needs to be dealt with. I need the help of your people."

      Bison let out a derisive laugh, looking at Jeffrey not with pity, but with contempt. "Jeffrey, you clearly don't understand what you're asking right now. My people aren't your personal hit squad to solve your problems. That's what the police are for." The gang leader's voice dripped with irony.

      "I thought we were partners," Jeffrey protested, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

      "Ha! If we're partners, you especially shouldn't come to me with requests like this. I hope I've made myself clear?"

      "How can this be?" Jeffrey's tone grew more insistent, desperation creeping in. "I've been working for you for eight years. I've never let you down. You have to help me."

      "Jeffrey, I don't owe you anything," Bison's voice took on a dangerous edge. "You seem to have forgotten that you're living comfortably only thanks to me."

      Defeated, Jeffrey stood and began to walk towards the office door.

      "You know, Jeffrey," Bison called after him, a smirk playing on his lips, "this is karma for your past." Jeffrey turned, his face a mask of confusion as he stared at the floor.

      "I always say that in this life, everyone gets their due. Your day has come."

      Bison's malicious laughter filled the room. Jeffrey raised his eyes to meet Bison's gaze.

      "Don't talk to me about karma," he spat. "I already know we're all sinners here. If you can't help me deal with this guy, at least tell me where I can find him."

      Jeffrey approached the desk once more, showing Bison a photo of Bradley Force on his phone. Bison glanced at it, his face twisting with disgust.

      "I don't know this guy. People like that don't run in my circles."

      Without another word, Jeffrey turned and left, fury and despair warring within him. He had been certain Bison would help him. Now he realized he would have to hunt for Bradley on his own.

      Back at the station, Nick and Christian were hunched over their computers, scouring databases for any information that might lead them to Bradley Force. But as the hours ticked by, their frustration only grew. It seemed that little had changed since their last search. Bradley Force still had no official job, no registered address. His last known residence remained his mother's house, where they had already failed to find him. The detectives felt like they were chasing ghosts.

      "I don't understand," Christian exclaimed, slamming his fist on his desk in frustration. "They have to be living somewhere!"

      Nick rubbed his forehead, a thought forming in his mind. "What if Bradley's mother lied about her son no longer living with her? What if she does know where he is?"

      "Christian," Nick continued, a new determination in his voice, "we need to set up surveillance on Bradley and Steven's houses. Something tells me that's how we'll find them."

      "I'm not sure that's a good idea," Christian replied hesitantly. "But at this point, what do we have to lose?"

      As they made arrangements for the surveillance, Nick couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were in a race against time. He kept thinking about Jeffrey's volatile state, worried that the grieving father might take matters into his own hands before they could locate Bradley.

      Within the hour, surveillance was set up on both Bradley and Steven's houses. The police settled in for what they hoped would be a short stakeout, but were prepared for a long wait if necessary. They were on duty around the clock, watching and waiting for any sign of the two young men who had become the focus of their investigation.

      Chapter 9

      A week passed.

      The stakeout had yielded no results. Bradley and Steven remained elusive, their whereabouts a maddening mystery.

      Nick and Christian found themselves back at the station, nursing cups of coffee as they tried to make sense of their lack of progress. Outside, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the gloomy mood within the office.

      "I think we need to put out an APB on Bradley," Christian declared, the frustration evident in his voice.

      Nick sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead as he frowned. "We don't have grounds for that."

      "And isn't the fact that they both disappeared right after Rose's murder grounds enough?"

      Nick didn't answer, his mind clearly elsewhere.

      "I think we need to call off the surveillance," he said after a moment. "I'll phone the officer on duty now and give the all-clear."

      As Nick dialed the number, he was surprised by what he heard on the other end of the line. The officer reported that just minutes ago, Sheriff Jeffrey had arrived at Bradley's house. After knocking, Bradley's mother had answered and let him in. Alarmed, Nick instructed the officer to report any suspicious activity and hung up.

      "Damn it all," he muttered under his breath.

      "What's wrong?" Christian asked, concern etched on his face.

      "The officer just told me Jeffrey showed up at Bradley's house. He's inside right now."

      "Well… I guess he's still looking for Bradley after all."

      "Looks that way," Nick replied, his voice tight with worry. "If the officer doesn't report that Jeffrey's left within ten minutes, I'm sending him in."

      Five tense minutes later, the officer called back. He reported that Jeffrey had stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him in a rage. Bradley's mother had run out after him, shouting that her son hadn't killed Rose.

      Nick gave the order to call off the surveillance, his mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

      Chapter 10

      Evening fell. 9:00 PM.

      Nick arrived home, the weight of the day's events heavy on his shoulders. His house stood as a bastion of normalcy amidst the chaos of the investigation – a modest two-story structure built in classic American style. Its brown exterior and black roof blended seamlessly with the other homes on the street, large windows and a spacious porch lending it an air of warmth and welcome. A well-maintained lawn stretched out front, complete with a barbecue area that spoke of lazy summer evenings spent with family and friends.

      Despite its modest size, the interior of the house radiated coziness and cleanliness. From the entryway, soft, light tones painted the walls, creating an atmosphere of calm. The living room boasted a plush carpet in a complementary shade, while a comfortable beige sofa faced the television. Soft blue curtains framed the windows, and nearby, a glass-fronted cabinet displayed family photos and various knick-knacks collected over the years.

      The kitchen, though small, was equally inviting. A large, spotless window at the far end allowed natural light to flood the space during the day. A rectangular dining table, covered with a crisp white tablecloth, stood nearby, surrounded by six light wood chairs. On either side of the kitchen, countertops