As we entered the house using the spare key I had been holding onto, given to me by Ryan in case of an emergency, I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. The police had already been here, and the crime scene ribbon tied around the sitting room was a grim reminder of what had happened. I could see the marked drawing on the floor, signifying the spot where they had found Ryan's lifeless body. The room was in disarray, with furniture overturned and belongings scattered everywhere. It was clear that the police had conducted a thorough search, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that they might have missed something.
"Gabriel, I don't think we should be here," Sarah said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The police have already taken all the evidence they need. We shouldn't be tampering with the crime scene."
But I was determined to find something, anything that could help clear my name and uncover the truth. I ducked under the ribbon and made my way to Ryan's bedroom, with Sarah following closely behind. As we approached the bedroom door, I noticed that it was locked. Ryan never locked his room when he was home, so this was already a red flag.
"Ryan never locks his room," I said to Sarah, my mind racing with possibilities. "Something's not right."
I used another spare key given to me by Ryan to unlock the door, and as we entered the room, I was taken aback by what I saw. The room was in disarray, with clothes scattered everywhere and drawers open. But what caught my attention was what was underneath Ryan's bed. I saw something familiar - Stephanie's headband.
"What the...?" I trailed off, my eyes fixed on the headband.
Sarah followed my gaze and gasped. "Is that...Stephanie's headband?"
I nodded, my mind racing with questions. What was Stephanie's headband doing here? Had she been in Ryan's room? And if so, why? I felt a sense of unease wash over me as I thought about the implications.
"This doesn't make sense," Sarah said, her voice laced with confusion. "Why would Stephanie's headband be here?"
I shook my head, feeling a sense of frustration. "I don't know, but I think we need to find out."
As we stood there, trying to make sense of what we had found, I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were getting closer to the truth. But what did it all mean? And who was behind Ryan's murder? I was determined to find out.
I carefully picked up the headband, making sure not to touch any potential evidence. I examined it closely, looking for any clues that might lead us to the killer. As I did, I noticed that it had a faint scent of perfume on it. I recognized the scent as the same one Stephanie wore.
"This is definitely Stephanie's headband," I said to Sarah. "But what was she doing in Ryan's room?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know, but I think we need to ask her."
I nodded in agreement. "Let's go talk to her."
As we left Ryan's room and headed out of the house, I couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. We were going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took.
As we arrived at Stephanie's bookstore, I asked Sarah to stay inside the car, knowing that Stephanie's jealousy could be a volatile trigger. I needed to approach this conversation with care, extracting information without provoking her emotions. Sarah nodded and stayed in the car, watching as I got out and entered the bookstore.
Stephanie was behind the counter, surrounded by stacks of books and papers, her eyes fixed on me as I entered. She looked up, a mix of surprise and curiosity on her face, her eyebrows rising slightly as she took in my serious expression.
"Gabriel," she said, getting to her feet, her voice laced with a hint of warmth, a hint of expectation. "What brings you here?"
She approached me, arms open, as if to hug me, but I created a barrier with my arm, keeping her at bay. I couldn't afford to let her emotions cloud my judgment, not now, not when I needed to stay focused.
"Stephanie, we need to talk," I said, my voice firm but controlled, my eyes locked on hers, searching for any sign of deception.
Stephanie's expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing her face before she composed herself, her mask slipping back into place.
"Okay, what's going on?" she asked, her voice cautious, her eyes narrowing slightly as she waited for me to reveal my purpose.
I took a deep breath, getting straight to the point, no time for small talk or pleasantries.
"What's your headband doing at Ryan's house? Inside his room, to be exact," I asked, my voice firm, my eyes never leaving hers.
Stephanie's eyes widened in surprise, her face pale, her lips parting slightly as she struggled to find words.
"My headband? I...I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched for an escape.
I raised an eyebrow, my gaze piercing, my expression skeptical.
"Don't lie to me, Stephanie," I said, my voice firm, my eyes locked on hers. "I found it in Ryan's room. What was it doing there?"
Stephanie sighed, her shoulders sagging, her body language screaming defeat, and rubbed her temples, as if trying to ward off a headache, or perhaps a guilty conscience.
"Okay, fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her words dripping with reluctance. "I drove Ryan home yesterday night. He was drunk and couldn't drive, so I took him home."
I studied her face, trying to determine if she was telling the truth, searching for any sign of deception, any hint of guilt.
"Why did you take Ryan home?" I asked, my voice firm, my eyes locked on hers, my expression unyielding.
Stephanie shrugged, her shoulders barely rising off her chest, her expression resigned.
"I just wanted to make sure he was okay," she said, her voice laced with a hint of defensiveness. "After you left, We were all out together, and he had too much to drink. I didn't want him to drive and hurt himself."
I nodded, trying to piece together the events of the previous night, my mind racing with possibilities, my eyes never leaving hers.
"And did you see anyone else around Ryan's house?" I asked, my voice firm, my eyes locked on hers, my expression unyielding.
Stephanie thought for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes narrowing slightly as she searched her memory.
"No, I didn't see anyone," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I did notice that the front door was open when we got there. I thought that was weird."
I frowned, my mind racing with possibilities, my eyes never leaving hers.
"Who could have opened the front door?" I asked, my voice firm, my eyes locked on hers.
Stephanie shrugged, her shoulders barely rising off her chest, her expression resigned.
"I don't know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe Ryan forgot to lock it?"
I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities, my eyes never leaving hers.
"Maybe," I said, my voice firm, my expression unyielding. "But I need to know more. I need to know what really happened that night."
Stephanie nodded, her expression resigned, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Why're you asking all this questions, what happened?" She asked. "Ryan is dead. And I'm the prime suspect."