"I see you got your gun back," I commented casually to Karl as I approached my desk, attempting to sound nonchalant. It was a tactical move, a way to gauge his current state of mind.

Karl didn't reply immediately. He just looked at me, his gaze intense, silently demanding an explanation for my earlier actions. The tension between us was palpable, a mixture of unspoken questions and hidden truths.

"They didn't find anything," I started, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Nobody answered the door, and the premise was all secured." My voice was steady, but inside, I was a tumult of anxiety and doubt.

"So, you didn't go inside?" he asked, his expression puzzled, searching.

"No," I lied, sitting down in my chair and pulling myself toward the desk. The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but it was necessary. I couldn't let Karl know about my unauthorised entry or my discovery of the body.

"Oh," I added, turning to look directly at Karl. "And the broken window has been fixed." I watched his face closely for any sign of a reaction, any tell that might give away his thoughts or further involvement.

"Are you spying on me?" he asked, his question catching me off guard. He studied me carefully.

My face went white. "No," I said quickly, immediately turning back to the computer to hide any further reaction. I needed to maintain my professional façade, to keep my personal turmoil hidden.

"Sarah," Karl said gently, his voice softer now. There was a hint of concern, maybe even care, in his tone.

"I have a report to finish writing." My response was curt, a clear indication that I didn't want to continue the conversation.

Karl let several minutes pass in silence before speaking again. "Sarah," he said softly, trying to reach out to me. I didn't look up, focusing intently on my computer screen.

"Luke arrived in Adelaide this morning." His words were quiet, almost hesitant.

The mouse in my hand stopped moving at the mention of Luke. It was a significant piece of information, a new development that could change the dynamics of the entire case. But I refused to look at Karl, to show any sign of how much that news affected me. I made a mental note to remember this vital information about Luke, realising its potential significance.

Returning to my work, I pretended to review the case notes from the interview with Gladys Cramer that Sergeant Claiborne had thrown me out of. My mind, however, was elsewhere, racing through the implications of Karl's revelation and how it might fit into the larger puzzle.

It took the better part of the afternoon for me to muster enough motivation to chase up a few more potential leads. Each one, however, led to a dead end, offering nothing helpful. Feeling defeated, I closed the browser on my computer and stood up, my movements sluggish with exhaustion. With a sweep of my arm, I pushed the array of papers on my desk into a scrambled pile in the corner. The day had taken its toll on me; I felt completely shattered, emotionally and mentally spent.

"Ah, dang," Karl muttered as his phone began to ring, inadvertently catching my attention. I noticed him glance briefly in my direction before quickly looking away, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. There was something about his reaction that piqued my curiosity.

"Detective Jenkins," he answered the phone with a formal tone.

For the next few minutes, I watched Karl closely, unable to tear my eyes away. He listened more than he spoke, his responses minimal. The lack of information was driving me insane, my mind racing to fill in the blanks with a myriad of possibilities. Who was he talking to, and what about?

Unable to contain my curiosity, I manoeuvred myself over to Karl's side. I saw his brow furrow in response to whatever he was hearing on the call, which only deepened my need to know more. I leaned in closer, straining my ears in hopes of catching some part of the conversation, any clue from the voice coming through on the other end of the line.

"Thank you for the update. Good night to you too, Sir," Karl finally said, concluding the call abruptly.

The sudden end of the call left me hanging, brimming with questions and speculations. Karl's demeanour had changed subtly during the conversation, a sign that whatever he had been told was significant. I found myself desperately wanting to ask him about it, to delve into the details of the call, but I was wary of overstepping.

Opting for a more subtle approach, I tried to probe Karl for information. "Well, you look grim," I commented, trying to sound casual. "Who was that?"

Karl's response was tinged with a hint of petulance. "I thought you weren't talking to me," he said, his tone reminiscent of a childish spat.

I frowned, internally wrestling between my desire to continue the silent standoff with Karl and my insatiable need to solve this crime. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on me. There is a corpse rotting under the stairs, and we need to know why nobody has reported it. The thought haunted me. Even more importantly, with no doubt in my mind that my blood will be found on that corpse, how the fuck are we going to get rid of the evidence… The urgency of the situation pushed me to break the silence. "Just tell me," I said bluntly, my voice firm.

Karl's expression turned even more serious, his face hardening like stone. "That was Detective Santos from the Adelaide CIB," he revealed. "They called to give a courtesy update.”

I stared at him intently, my eyes urging him to continue, to provide more details. His mention of Detective Santos and the Adelaide CIB was intriguing, but it was the 'courtesy update' that really caught my attention. It suggested that there was a development, something important that we needed to know.

Karl sighed before continuing. "There's not much to say, really. When they arrived at Luke's parents' house, there was nobody there. They have an officer watching the property, but there has been no sign of anybody at all. Both the family cars are still at the house. There's no sign of forced entry. They questioned the neighbours to see if they had seen anything suspicious."

"And?" I prodded, leaning forward in anticipation.

"The only piece of information that seemed remotely useful was that the elderly lady across the street said she saw a young man, matching Luke's description, arrive at the house sometime before lunch. She didn't see or hear anything unusual and hadn't noticed anybody leave the house all day." Karl's voice was matter-of-fact, but I could sense an undercurrent of frustration.

"Well, that's great," I said, trying to sound optimistic and lift Karl's spirits.

Karl didn’t look convinced. "Well, not really. All it implies is that Luke really is in Adelaide and maybe went to his parent's house. Anything beyond that is circumstantial." He frowned slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of solid leads.

"But?" I prodded again, sensing there was more he was holding back.

"What do you mean, 'but?'" Karl looked at me, a mix of curiosity and slight annoyance in his eyes.

"I see a 'but' on your face. You should know you can’t hide your suspicions from me by now," I said, a hint of playfulness unintentionally creeping into my voice.

Karl's smile, though slight, was a rare sight through the heavy air of our conversation. "But it doesn't make any sense," he admitted. "They did a thorough search of the property, and all they found was a single drop of fresh blood on the shed door."

"Fresh?" I echoed, my interest immediately piqued. The word 'fresh' in our line of work usually indicated a recent incident, and in this case, it could be a crucial piece of evidence.

"Apparently it was still wet. They've taken a sample and sent it to the lab for priority testing. In the meantime, they're having forensics spend the next forty-eight hours examining the house and property for traces of human remains. Or anything, really," Karl elaborated.

"That is very bizarre," I agreed, my mind racing through the implications of this new information. A single drop of fresh blood could mean a number of things, and none of them were particularly reassuring.

Karl nodded in agreement. "Whatever Luke is up to, he's been very precise so far. We just need something, anything, that will give us some answers. Knowing our luck, I don't expect forensics will turn up anything new. At least nothing that will hold up in court." His voice carried a tinge of frustration and resignation.

I shrugged, feeling my short-lived playfulness dissolve into a more familiar sense of pessimistic resignation. "Perhaps you’re right."

And then, as if a switch had been flipped, a sudden realisation hit me. My grandmother had been adamant that Luke was innocent, and according to Gladys, he knew nothing about... any of it. What did she really mean by that? Is Luke running from someone? Is it his life that is in danger?

A sense of urgency washed over me. Fuck! I needed to be in that interview. I needed to understand the full picture, to connect the dots between Luke's alleged innocence, the mysterious drop of blood, and the larger web of events unfolding around us.