"𝒁𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 T𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆"

 

The Silent Apartment

Fog crept along the sidewalks of Kensington Block like a thief afraid of being seen. The old brownstone apartments stood still, damp and breathless in the early morning cold — one in particular, sealed in yellow tape, held secrets thick enough to choke.

Detective Zane Faulkner tilted his head at the door of Apartment 3B, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Dead for nine months,” the police sergeant muttered behind him. “And no one noticed. Not a soul.”

Zane’s lips curled into a soft, ironic smile. “Welcome to the city, Sergeant. Where neighbors are wallpaper.”

He stepped inside.

The air didn’t reek of death. That was the first lie.

The room was strangely neutral — dusty, yes, and dim with closed curtains, but there was no overpowering stench one would expect from a decomposing corpse left untouched for three seasons. A faint, artificial lavender lingered in the air.

In the corner of the living room, lying awkwardly against the wall, was the body.

Or what remained of it.

The woman was dressed in a deep blue saree, the folds still intact around her thin frame. Her skin had blackened, features hardened into a grotesque mask of suffering. But strangely, the body had not fully decayed.

Zane crouched beside her. “Preserved?” he murmured.

Eli, standing behind him with a notebook in hand, tried not to gag. “Is that... is that possible? Like, without refrigeration?”

Zane didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the room — tidy, almost deliberately so. A dried-out plate sat on the kitchen counter. Her phone was on the side table, dead. A calendar hung near the wall clock — the last date marked: September 18, 2024.

He stood. “Bring Lyra.”

Two Hours Later

Lyra entered wearing a white lab coat over a grey turtleneck. Her hair was tied back, expression serious — but her eyes flicked to Zane with a warmth she didn’t try to hide.

“You called,” she said.

Zane gestured toward the body. “Tell me what I’m not seeing.”

She knelt beside the corpse, examining the skin texture and visible veins. After a few silent minutes, she looked up. “She’s been dead at least eight months. But something’s off.”

Zane raised a brow.

“Her body isn’t decayed the way it should be. Someone used chemical preservatives... probably formalin. Not enough to embalm her, but enough to delay decomposition. Maybe even mask the smell.”

Eli blinked. “That’s... planned. Someone didn’t just kill her. They wanted her to stay undiscovered.”

Zane’s smile vanished. “Which begs the question — why?”

Victim: An Actress

Her name was Maya Raines. Thirty-two. A mid-tier television actress who had come to the city six years ago chasing stardom. According to the initial background report, she found modest success — recurring roles, one soap opera lead, nothing headline-grabbing.

She lived alone.

No close friends.

No recent family contact.

“She had legal issues with the landlord,” Eli reported as they drove through the rain. “A year ago, he tried to raise the rent. She refused. He told her to vacate. She filed a stay order in court.”

Zane glanced sideways. “Did she keep paying rent?”

“Through court, yes. Until... guess when?”

“September 2024.”

“Bingo.”

“And no one from the court followed up for nine months?”

“They sent notices. No reply. Probably assumed she moved.”

Zane smirked. “We assume too much, Eli. That’s why people like me still have jobs.”

Neighbors Who Heard Nothing

Apartment 3C, directly opposite Maya’s, belonged to a middle-aged couple, the Brents. But they were currently in France, on a five-month-long vacation.

“Perfect timing,” Zane muttered.

He knocked on the door of 3A instead. A nervous young man opened — slim, early thirties, with thick glasses and a coffee stain on his hoodie.

“I’m Darren. I live here. I mean... I used to see her sometimes.”

“When did you see her last?”

The man hesitated. “I... I think... maybe last summer?”

“Try harder.”

“September, maybe. She came home carrying groceries. Didn’t say anything. Never did.”

“You never heard anything strange from her apartment? A struggle, a fall?”

“No.” His voice cracked slightly. “She kept to herself. I didn’t want to pry.”

Eli scribbled notes. Zane kept his gaze fixed on Darren.

“You never smelled anything odd?”

Darren shook his head.

Zane turned slightly. “And yet, a body lay dead across the hall from you for almost a year.”

“I swear I didn’t know!”

Zane gave a slight nod. “Of course.”

As they walked away, Eli whispered, “You don’t believe him?”

“I believe he didn’t hear anything. Because there was nothing to hear.”
Zane paused, eyes narrowing. “But I don’t believe he smelled nothing.”

Family That Let Go

At the Raines family home, a small brick house in a quiet suburb, Maya’s father opened the door. He was a stern man in his late sixties, dressed in a crisp shirt, not a line out of place.

“You’re here about Maya,” he said flatly.

“She’s dead,” Zane replied.

The man didn’t flinch. “I heard.”

“She died nine months ago. We only just discovered the body.”

He gave a sharp nod. “We severed contact three years ago. She left us. We moved on.”

“You don’t want the body?”

“No.”

“Why?”

The man looked at Zane, unblinking. “Because she chose to vanish from our lives long before death took her. That corpse is none of my concern.”

Eli looked horrified. Zane only tilted his head slightly. “That’s quite a cold answer.”

The man didn’t reply.

One Sister-in-Law, One Confession

Back in the city, Maya’s legal file revealed something curious — her brother’s wife had once signed court affidavits on her behalf during the rent case.

The woman’s name was Claire Raines — now divorced.

Zane and Eli found her working in a small law office as an assistant.

Claire looked drained, bitter, but not shocked to hear Maya had died.

“She was... difficult. Stubborn. Always alone.”

“But you helped her?”

Claire sighed. “Once. She was fighting with my ex — her brother — over inheritance. He wanted to sell their grandfather’s property. She didn’t.”

“And the others?”

“The younger sister has mental health issues. The other brother too. Their father gave up on them all years ago.”

“Did you try to reach Maya in the last year?”

“I did. But she stopped responding. I assumed she moved. She always talked about leaving the city.”

Zane leaned forward. “You didn’t try harder?”

Claire’s face tightened. “I had my own divorce to survive, detective.”

He studied her carefully. “One last question, Claire. Was Maya ever pregnant?”

Claire’s mouth opened... but nothing came out at first.

Then, quietly, “She thought she might be. She told me... once. I never asked again.”

The First Twist

That night, Zane sat in Maya’s apartment alone. The fog had thickened outside the window. Eli had gone home. Lyra hadn’t returned his call.

Zane moved methodically, scanning every corner, every drawer. The woman had lived simply. No luxury items. No photos. No keepsakes.

Except one.

In the back of her kitchen cabinet, behind a stack of cracked mugs, was a tiny object wrapped in a cloth napkin.

Zane unfolded it.

A baby bottle.

He examined it — recently washed, no dust.

His eyes darkened.

Someone had been here after her death.

Silence Never Lies

A kettle whistled in the corner as Lyra entered the apartment, her footsteps soft on the wooden floor. She looked at Zane, who sat at the kitchen table, turning the baby bottle in his hand like a puzzle cube.

“You found that in her cupboard?” she asked.

Zane didn’t look up. “Washed. No dust. Someone used it after she died.”

Lyra's eyes welled with emotion. “You think she had a child?”

Zane finally looked at her. “No. I think someone else did. And that someone wanted to erase both her and the truth.”

Lyra walked over, arms crossed. “You didn’t call me back last night.”

“I was working.”

She exhaled sharply, voice rising. “You push people away, Zane. Even when they’re trying to help.”

He offered a faint smile. “That’s because I usually work with corpses. They’re better listeners.”

She glared at him. “Don’t joke about her. She was scared. Isolated. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Zane’s eyes lost all humor. “No one does. That’s why I don’t sleep until I find out who made her vanish.”

The Evidence That Shouldn't Exist

The next morning, Zane and Eli visited the building's security office. Old records had been erased automatically every 30 days — except for one corrupted drive that the tech team had partially recovered.

They found a single clip. Dated October 3rd, 2024 — two weeks after Maya’s last known activity.

A figure — hooded, gloved — entered Maya’s apartment using a key.

“No sign of forced entry,” Eli whispered. “That’s how the police missed it.”

The figure exited 42 minutes later, carrying a medium-sized black duffel bag.

Zane leaned forward. “Zoom in on the hands. Left wrist.”

A flash — barely visible — of a silver medical bracelet.

Zane stood, eyes glinting.

“I know who that is.”

The Gathering

Late afternoon. Apartment 3B.
Everyone was there.

Claire Raines, the sister-in-law, visibly tense

Darren, the neighbor from 3A, confused and shaky

The landlord, sweating bullets

And finally, the building janitor, a quiet, older man named Mr. Salter, leaning on his mop.

Zane stood at the center of the room, hands in coat pockets, Eli beside him with folded arms, Lyra in the corner watching everyone.

Zane began.

“Nine months ago, Maya Raines was murdered in this very apartment. But her killer did something unusual — they didn’t dump the body. They kept it here. Preserved it.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

“She wasn’t found because the body didn’t decay the way it should have. The smell was masked. And someone made sure she stayed hidden.”

The landlord interrupted, “Look, I just wanted her out. She wasn’t paying rent—”

“She was,” Zane cut him off, “through court. Until she died. Which means the court kept receiving no response because she was already dead. Convenient for someone who wanted her forgotten.”

He turned to Claire.

“You helped her once, didn’t you?”

Claire nodded. “I gave her legal aid. That’s all.”

“But you knew about the pregnancy.”

Claire looked down. “Yes. She was scared. She thought people would judge her. She never said who the father was.”

Zane tilted his head. “But someone else knew.”

He turned sharply.

“Darren.”

The young man jumped. “Me?! I barely knew her!”

Zane walked toward him slowly. “Except your Wi-Fi logs show that Maya’s phone auto-connected to your router five times between August and September. She was in your apartment. Regularly.”

Darren paled. “She just needed internet... her phone data got cut. That’s all.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” Zane whispered. “You were sleeping with her.”

Gasps. Claire’s hand flew to her mouth.

“No!” Darren shouted. “We were just... friends!”

Zane’s voice was calm. “You were the father of the child.”

Dead silence.

“I found the bottle. You bought it. The receipt was buried in your trash chute.”

Darren looked like he might collapse. “She didn’t want anyone to know. She said... she said the world would tear her apart if they found out. She was trying to keep the baby.”

Zane nodded. “And then one day, she disappeared.”

Darren whispered, “I thought she ran away.”

“No,” Zane said coldly. “You knew she was dead. You just didn’t know what to do.”

The Real Killer

“But Darren didn’t kill her,” Zane said suddenly.

Everyone looked confused.

Zane walked toward the janitor — Mr. Salter.

“You were the only person in this building with full access. Cleaning schedules. Spare keys.”

Salter narrowed his eyes. “I just do my job.”

Zane lifted a hand. “On October 3rd, someone used Maya’s key and entered her apartment. The CCTV shows a silver medical bracelet. Just like the one you wear.”

The old man’s hand instinctively touched his wrist.

“You found her dead,” Zane said. “But instead of calling the police, you took her phone, erased what you could, and preserved the body. Because you didn’t want trouble. You’d already been warned by the building board about negligence. Another dead tenant — and you’d be fired.”

“I... I didn’t kill her,” Salter muttered.

“You didn’t. But you helped bury the truth. You sealed this apartment. Hid the body. You became her second killer — the one who erased her memory.”

Salter dropped his mop. He didn’t deny it.

But Then Came the Final Twist

Zane turned back to the group.

“But Maya’s real killer was someone else. Someone who knew about the child. Someone who couldn’t bear what that child represented.”

He turned slowly.

“Claire.”

The sister-in-law froze. “What?!”

“You helped Maya with the court. You saw her vulnerable. And you knew — if she had a child, the inheritance battle would change. A new heir would threaten your already crumbling marriage.”

“No—”

Zane raised his voice. “You used her key. You came in October. You injected her with formalin — not to preserve her, but to silence her slowly, painfully. A former legal assistant knows how to hide a crime. And once she died, you told Salter to cover it up.”

Claire’s voice shook. “That’s insane.”

Zane stepped forward. “Is it? You had access. Motive. And the baby? You sold him.”

A beat.

Lyra stepped out of the shadows, holding up a file. “DNA results. The infant in foster care matches Maya’s maternal line. We found him yesterday. He’s safe now.”

Claire screamed and lunged at Zane — but Eli tackled her instantly.

It was over.

The Last Conversation

Outside, the fog still lingered as Zane and Lyra stood by the curb.

“She was dead for nine months,” Lyra said softly. “But everyone let her die long before that.”

Zane nodded. “Family. Friends. Neighbors. Even the law. They all let her vanish.”

Lyra looked at him. “Why do you do this, Zane? Why does it always have to hurt?”

He looked ahead, eyes distant.

“Because truth hurts. And it’s the only pain worth chasing.”

She reached out to touch his arm. He didn’t move away.

After a pause, she smiled sadly. “You’re a difficult man, Faulkner.”

He smiled faintly. “And you’re dangerously charming when you’re angry.”

She rolled her eyes.

Closing Line

As Zane walked toward his car, Eli shouted from behind, “Hey, you forgot your coat!”

Zane turned with a grin.

“I never forget. I just walk faster than everyone else.”

He stepped into the fog.

And vanished — like the girl who vanished twice.

[THE END]