"It's… impossible."
Adrian's voice trembled, just a fracture, but enough to freeze the air in the room.
Clara turned to him, confused, as he held the card between his fingers like it was something alive.
The light from his phone flickered over the scorched edges of the paper.
"Adrian?"
He swallowed hard.
"This… this is Luca Ferretti's business card."
Clara's heart skipped.
"Your colleague?"
Adrian nodded, slowly.
Lightning flashed outside, and for a moment the whole room turned white.
In that instant, Clara saw the color drain from his face.
"Yes," he whispered. "My partner. My best friend. The man who sold me to Rinaldi."
The words hit like breaking glass.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Adrian stared down at the card as though it might burst into flames. Printed in crisp black letters were the words:
Luca Ferretti
Chief Investigator – Behavioral Analysis Unit
Tel. 347 090 2241
No logo. No office. Just the name.
Clara stepped closer.
"Why would his card be here?"
Adrian exhaled slowly, still staring at it.
"I don't know. But Luca never leaves anything by chance."
He walked to the window, watching the rain blur the city lights.
"When we worked together, he was obsessive. Every clue, every scene, it all had to mean something."
"So maybe this means something too," Clara said quietly.
Adrian turned toward her.
"Maybe. I just don't know if it's meant for us… or for the killer."
Thunder rolled again, closer this time.
The house seemed to breathe with them, walls creaking like lungs.
Clara took the card, turning it in her hands.
"It's new. Not old. Someone put it here recently."
He nodded.
"If Luca's been here, then he's following the same trail.
He must've figured out the connection between Rinaldi and the killer, maybe he's been trying to warn the victims."
Clara hesitated.
"Or… maybe not."
Adrian frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"What if he wasn't here to help? What if he came back to erase something?"
He didn't answer right away. Then, quietly, "Luca was a traitor, yes. But not a murderer. I trusted him with everything, and he sold me. But he wouldn't…"
He paused, shaking his head.
"He wouldn't do this."
"Then why is his card next to a dead woman?"
The question landed like a blade.
Adrian's jaw tightened. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the shadows pooling around him.
"Maybe," he said after a long silence, "maybe he's trying to make it right. Maybe after what happened to me, he tried to fix it.
Maybe he's been tracking the killer, learning his pattern."
Clara crossed her arms, thinking.
"Then what if he left the card as a message?"
"Possible," Adrian said. "But for who?"
A car passed outside, its headlights sliding across the wall. For a second, Clara thought she saw a shape in the reflection, someone watching but when she turned, there was only darkness.
"Adrian," she said softly, "if you're right, and Luca really tried to warn them… then his card shouldn't be here alone. It should be at the other victims' houses too."
Adrian looked up sharply.
"You're right. If it's a pattern, he wouldn't break it."
"Exactly," Clara said. "Before we call him, we need to check. We have to see if his cards are at the other scenes."
He stood, the idea already taking root.
"You mean… re-open the cases?"
"Yes. Even if we have to break in, there must be a way. If this isn't coincidence, we'll prove it."
Adrian stepped closer to her.
The faint glow from the window cut across his face, shadowing his eyes.
"And if we're walking straight into a trap?"
Clara met his gaze.
"Then we'll walk in together."
Something in his expression softened.
A fleeting smile, bitter and beautiful.
"That's why I love you," he said.
Her lips parted, just a breath and her heartbeat raced.
"I know," she whispered.
They stood there, unmoving, the silence between them charged like static.
Outside, rain began to fall harder, hammering against the window like a heartbeat too big for the world.
Adrian slipped the card into his wallet and turned off the flashlight.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"To find the truth," he said. "But not the way Luca tried to."
He opened the door, and his voice dropped lower, almost to a vow.
"This time, we'll bring it into the light."
Clara followed him out of the room.
Behind them, the air seemed to settle, the house sinking back into silence.
The door creaked shut with a sound like an exhale, long, reluctant.
A flash of lightning illuminated the empty hallway. For an instant, where the card had been, a single speck of ash lifted into the air and vanished.
Outside, the night smelled of rain and smoke. They walked back to the car in silence, shoes splashing through puddles.
At the curb, Clara looked over her shoulder.
The house stood still, its outline blurred by mist, a memory already fading.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
Adrian gripped the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead.
"With the first name," he said.
"The first of Rinaldi's patients. If we find another card, then we'll know."
Clara nodded, her hands folded in her lap.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
The city slipped past outside the windshield, washed pale by rain.
They both knew it, even without saying it.
That card was more than a clue. It was a pulse, a memory, a warning from the past.
And the name printed in gold kept burning in Adrian's mind, like a scar that would never fade.
Luca Ferretti. The friend. The traitor.
Maybe, the only one who could still save them.