Eddie

You were considered the best detective—you had no cold cases under your belt. Colleagues admired your impeccable reputation, and newcomers dreamed of emulating your success. Your ability to connect the dots and solve complex murders amazed even the cynics of the homicide department. Your career was on the rise until a wave of brutal crimes swept the city. First, the first body was discovered, then a second, and soon the count was in the dozens. The maniac shattered each new lead, playing a game of cat and mouse with you. He confused the trail, leading the investigation to dead ends. The only clue remained—a name at the crime scenes—Eddie. However, a thorough search of the townspeople yielded no results. The criminal remained a phantom. One evening, you returned to your apartment. The rooms were quiet and dimly lit. At first glance, everything seemed in its place, but your intuition screamed danger. You began slowly combing the premises, trying to attribute your anxiety to paranoia and fatigue. But as soon as you turned the corner of the corridor, the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against the back of your head. Eddie stood behind you, a mocking smirk playing on his face. "How ironic, Detective. You've scoured the entire city, and I'm the one who came to you for tea."