Hostile Neighbour

They stand under the small awning as Michael knocks on the front door—three heavy, echoing thuds against the dark wood.

Adam glances at the brass house numbers before shifting his gaze to the door frame. Catching the faint sound of movement on the other side, he gives a small, ironic wave directly at the peephole.

A moment later, the door slowly opens to reveal a middle-aged woman. Her face is pale, her eyes rimmed red and heavy with exhaustion.

“Hello, ma’am,” Michael says, leaning in slightly. “You must be Mrs. Carter?”

“Yes…” she says, her voice strained. “Are you the detectives?”

“That’s right,” Michael replies smoothly. “This is Private Investigator Adam Lane, and I’m Michael Reeds. Your contract went through, so we’d like to ask you a few questions regarding your daughter.”

Mrs. Carter gives a faint nod and steps back from the door wide to invite them inside.

Michael and Adam sit side-by-side on the living room couch, while Mrs. Carter sits opposite them, her hands trembling in her lap.

“So, who was the last person to see her?” Michael asks softly.

“It was her father,” she says, rubbing at her eyes, trying to hold back her tears. “She told us, she was leaving to stay the night at her best friend’s house.”

“And do you think anyone—friends, family, neighbors—had any kind of anger or hostility toward your daughter?”

The woman shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek as a quiet sob catches in her throat. “No… my Sofia was so kind. Everyone loved her. People always talked about how warm and sweet she was to everybody.”

Meanwhile, Adam sits silently beside Michael, his head bowed as he scribbles notes into a small leather journal, his pen moving steadily across the page without ever looking up.

“What about the rest of your family?” Michael asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Her older brother, Jacob, is working down at our family shop,” Mrs. Carter says, her voice drifting off.

She pauses, her eyes dropping to her lap. She wrings her hands, hesitating before she forces out the next words.

“And… her father doesn’t want me to talk to you. He gets angry whenever I even mention Sofia.”

For the first time since they sat down, Adam’s pen stops moving. He lifts his head, his cold, sharp eyes locking onto Mrs. Carter for a long, heavy moment.

“Why?” Adam asks, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Carter whispers, shaking her head helplessly. “Ever since the police filed it as a runaway case, he just keeps saying she betrayed us… that he’ll never forgive her.”

Adam tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “Even now? After the bloody clothes were found?”

Mrs. Carter can only nod, burying her face in her hands as a fresh wave of sobs wracks her shoulders.

Michael stands up, smoothing the front of his jacket. “I think that will be enough for today, Mrs. Carter. Take care of yourself. We’ll show ourselves out.”

Adam remains seated for a few long seconds, his gaze fixed on the weeping woman.

He slowly pushes himself up from the couch. On his way to the door, he pauses in front of the living room wall, where a cluster of framed family portraits hangs. His eyes narrow as he scans the faces in the glass. His eyes catch on a faded photo — young Mrs. Carter cradling a newborn, the same floral wallpaper behind her as the wall beside him.

“Boss?” Michael prompts softly, standing near the doorway.

Adam doesn’t answer immediately. He gives the photos one last look before turning and following Michael out the front door.

The cold rain hits them the moment they step off the porch, their shoes sinking into the wet lawn as they walk back toward the BMW.

A middle-aged man steps out from between two parked cars, blocking their path across the lawn.

“Hey! You two,” the man calls out, pointing a thick finger at them. “Leave that family alone. You hear me?”

Michael keeps his head down and maintains his stride, ignoring the guy completely.

Adam, on the other hand, slows his pace, a nasty smirk playing on his lips. “This doesn’t concern you, old fuck. Go home.”

Before they can reach the BMW, a half-dozen more neighbors spill out onto the street, closing the gap and surrounding them on the wet lawn. A low chorus of angry voices rises over the sound of the rain: Leave them alone. Get out of here. Stay away from this family.

Then, the crowd parts. A familiar face steps through—Paul Carter.

He marches straight up to Adam, surrounded by the angry neighbors. His face is flushed, his shoulders tense. “Who the hell let you into my house?”

Adam stops, towering over him with his hands shoved casually into his coat pockets. “Who else? Your beautiful wife, of course.”

Paul grinds his teeth, his jaw working as his eyes burn with rage. “I don’t want any private detective or police coming near my house to look for my daughter. She betrayed us! I don’t give a damn where she is!”

“Oh, is that so?” Adam asks, leaning in closer. “What are you trying to hide, Paul? You’re still the last person to see her alive. You sure you didn’t kill her yourself?”

The crowd gasps, but Paul doesn’t flinch. He steps right into Adam’s space. “What nonsense! You’re an outsider. How do I know you didn’t kill her? Maybe you’re just pretending to look for her to cover your own tracks!”

Adam lets out a dry, breathy laugh. “Well, think whatever the hell you want, Paul. The contract is signed, and I’m going to find your daughter.”

Without waiting for a response, Adam shoves his way through the middle of the crowd, shoulder-checking one of the neighbors out of his path. Michael falls in right behind him, keeping a sharp eye on the hostile faces.

As Adam reaches the driver’s side door of the BMW, Paul’s voice cuts through the pouring rain, sharp and desperate:

“Why do you care so much, Lane? What’s your angle?!”

Adam slowly turns back, a nasty, mocking smirk spreading across his face. “Oh… I was just hoping you’d marry her off to me once I find her.”

“You motherfucker!” Paul roars, lunging forward with his fists balled, but two neighbors instantly grab his arms, dragging him back.

Michael practically shoves Adam into the passenger seat before diving into the car himself. “Boss, can you just shut the fuck up for one second? Please!”

Adam just chuckles as Michael slams the car into gear, spinning the tires against the wet asphalt and speeding away from the enraged crowd.