Chapter 1.
“Reese,” Rupert said, “have you ever tried solving a problem that doesn’t have an answer?”
Winnie Reese looked up.
“That’s not how problems work.”
Rupert slid a dusty file across the desk.
“Read the first page.”
Winnie frowned but pulled the folder closer. The paper was old, the edges slightly curled, the ink faded in places.
At the top of the report, a name was printed in bold letters.
DAVID NILSON.
Below it:-
CASE TYPE: Homicide.
LOCATION: Riverton, Newport.
DATE OF CRIME: October 14, 2016.
Winnie flipped the page.
“Science teacher..at Riverton Public High School,” she muttered. “..Found dead in an abandoned warehouse.”
Rupert leaned against the desk behind her.
“Keep reading.”
Winnie’s eyes moved further down the report.
“Cause of death:- single gunshot wound.”
She stopped for a moment.
“Weapon?”
Rupert didn’t answer.
Winnie scanned the line again.
“Ballistics matched a police-issued firearm,” she read slowly.
The room went quiet.
She looked up at Rupert.
“So a cop killed him?”
Rupert shook his head.
“Nope...No police gun was reported missing. No officer discharged a weapon that night.”
Winnie tapped the paper.
“Then where’s the gun?”
Rupert folded his arms.
“That,” he said calmly, “is the problem that doesn’t have an answer.”
Winnie frowned. “2016… That’s ten years ago.”
Rupert leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You were fifteen then. Probably don’t remember much.”
“I went to St. Peter’s Blessing Academy, not Riverton High,” Winnie muttered, flipping through the pages. “Different school, different crowd.”
Rupert tapped the folder. “Lucky you. But maybe lucky’s overrated when you’re handed someone else’s mess.”
He let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking, his voice calm but cutting.
“Funny, isn’t it, Reese? All this time, you’ve been complaining-asking for real cases, saying you’re not just here to pour coffee and file paperwork. Talking about empowerment, breaking the glass ceiling… and now, look what lands on your desk.” He said, almost mocking her.
Winnie blinked, a mix of irritation and disbelief crossing her face.
“You mean… this is supposed to be my reward?” she asked, her voice tight.
Rupert’s lips curled into a faint smirk.
“Reward?” he said, leaning closer. “No, Miss Reese. This is a test. A real case. Nobody else wanted it. Nobody solved it. And now, because you’ve been shouting about wanting more than coffee runs and patrols… congratulations. You get the impossible one.”
Winnie set the folder down for a moment, crossing her arms. “So you’re saying… because I talked too much about doing serious work, you’re giving me a headache that could make me quit?”
Rupert shrugged casually. “I’m saying exactly that. Think of it as… a challenge. Prove that you’re more than your speeches. Or don’t. I’m entertained either way.”
Winnie exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.
“Ten years,” she muttered, flipping the folder back open. “A decade-old murder. Nobody knows anything. And I’m supposed to… what? Solve it?”
Rupert tapped the folder with a finger. “Solve it. Or embarrass yourself trying. That’s the deal. And trust me, Reese, embarrassment has a way of teaching lessons real cases never could.”
Winnie gritted her teeth, her eyes scanning the old pages again. Her mind raced. This wasn’t just about David Nilson’s murder. This was about proving herself- showing Rupert she was capable.
And maybe… just maybe… she could finally get the respect she’d been asking for all these years.
Winnie Reese had spent more years being underestimated than she cared to count. Short, sharp-tongued, and with a knack for noticing things no one else did, she was the kind of detective who could make a file scream its secrets- only if she would ever be considered more than just a "female detective meant for coffee services".
Now is the chance- to bring justice and her reputation, back all together.
“Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll take it.”
Rupert arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Good. Entertain me.”
Without another word, Winnie stood. She grabbed her coat, slung the folder under her arm, and stepped toward the door.
Her hand lingered on the panel handle for a second before she pushed it open, letting the soft click echo in the office. The brass nameplate glinted in the office light:
“Rupert Bennetts - Head Chief”
A small, sardonic smile touched her lips. If he wanted to test her… fine. She was ready.
- - - - - - -
By the time she reached her desk, the hallway of the Riverton Police Department had emptied, leaving her with the quiet hum of computers and the faint smell of old coffee dried up on the rim of the coffee mugs- which no one bothered to keep by the sink, knowing that Winnie will be expected to get that done.
She set the folder down and opened her laptop.
One by one, she pulled up old news articles, PDFs of police reports, and the archived crime footage that had been uploaded a decade ago.
The murder of David Nilson was still a headline in every Riverton paper that had covered the case:- “Science Teacher Found Dead in Abandoned Warehouse” and “Cold Case Leaves Town Shaken.”
Each article added little pieces to the puzzle:- witness statements, anonymous tips, theories that had gone nowhere.
She made notes, scribbling questions in the margin:- Who last saw him? Why was the weapon never found? Was it someone inside the department? Or someone the town overlooked? Or someone who stole a police pistol / got it illegally from shady dealers?
Her approach to all the problems of the were- Questions.
She believed that the universe gave its answers only to the ones who dare to ask.
Her concentration broke when her phone buzzed.
Vikky: Heard you got the “impossible case.” Don’t tell me you’re crying yet, Win.
Winnie couldn’t help a small grin. Only Victor Brown- her platonic best friend- could text her like that in the middle of a tense investigation.
She typed back quickly,
Win: Very funny. It’s one case. Don’t get emotional.
Vikky: One case that nobody solved in ten years. I am emotional.
She scrolled through the old articles again, letting the headlines and faded photographs sink in. Ten years. Nobody solved it. And now it was her turn.
Victor's next message popped up almost immediately,
Vikky: Need a partner in crime? Or are you going full lone wolf on this one?
Winnie smirked and replied,
Win: Lame jokes aside, I might need you. But remember, no “breaking news” before I get the facts.
Vikky: Copy that, boss. But you know me… I can’t resist a juicy headline.
After a while of reading the files...
Her phone buzzed again, Victor popping in with another comment.
Vikky: Wanna have lunch before you drown in old files? Might help your hangry crisis, Waffle.
Winnie rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped.
Win: Only if you stop calling me that.
Vikky: Never.
She closed her laptop briefly and leaned back, letting the silence settle.
A decade-old murder.
A missing gun.
A town full of unanswered questions.
And now, it was all hers.
And she wasn’t going to waste it.
She grabbed her coat and stood up. Sitting here wasn’t helping.
Win: Where are you?
The reply came instantly.
Vikky: Café across the street. Same window-side table, as usual.
- - - - - - - -
The evening air outside the station was cold enough to make her teeth grit against each other. Riverton looked the same as it always did- quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of place where nothing ever happened.
Except something had.
And no one had figured it out.
Yet.
Victor Browns was exactly where he said he’d be- leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, Matcha in one hand, phone in the other.
“Wow,” he said as soon as she walked in. “You actually came. I thought you’d already be choking yourself with your own bad decisions.”
Winnie slid into the chair opposite him. “I am. This is just a break before the breathlessness.”
Vikky grinned. “So? Tell me everything. How bad is it?”
She gave him a look. “Bad enough that Rupert looked happy giving it to me.”
“Ah..,” Vikky nodded seriously. “So it’s a disaster.”
“Exactly.” Winnie spoke, with dramatic expressions.
He leaned forward, suddenly more interested. “What’s the catch?”
Winnie hesitated for a second, then said, “It starts with questions but doesn't provide space for answers..”
Vikky blinked. “That’s… not how that’s supposed to work.”
“Yeah,” she said dryly. “I noticed.”
He let out a low whistle. “Okay. I take it back. This isn’t a disaster. This is… actually something worth your interest.”
Winnie raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m a journalist,” he said with a shrug. “This is literally my personality.”
She shook her head, but a small smile slipped through.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the café filled the silence- cups clinking, people talking, the low hum of normal life continuing like nothing unusual existed.
Vikky broke it first.
“You’re going to take it seriously, aren’t you?”
Winnie looked at him.
“Of course I am.”
“Even if it goes nowhere?”
She leaned back slightly, arms folding.
“Then I’ll be the one who proves why it went nowhere.”
Vikky studied her for a second, then smirked.
“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like my Waffle.”
