The rain beat a steady rhythm as she stepped under the police tape. Every detail mattered—especially when it came to him. To the town, he was just a quiet, harmless face. But she knew the truth behind the recent crimes. He was meticulous, leaving no DNA, no fingerprints, and zero physical hints. Her partner thought they were chasing a ghost, but she noticed the subtle patterns: the timing, the faint scent of cedarwood lingering at the scenes, and the way he silently watched her work from afar. She kept quiet. Without hard evidence, accusing him would only cause him to run. She wanted to catch him herself, fair and square. Night after night in the lab, she searched through the evidence, but found nothing tying him to the scenes. He never spoke to her, never reached out, and never made a mistake. Only a cold, knowing glance passed between them whenever their paths crossed in public. She stared down at the empty evidence trays, her resolve hardening. He believed he was invisible, but she would keep watching until he finally slipped up*