It Was Hidden: The Plot Thickens

St. Mary’s Hospital – Room 312

The fluorescent lights in the hospital hallway hummed softly as Dr. Adrian Keller flipped through a post-mortem report. He had baggy eyes, his white coat was wrinkled from a short nap he had taken in one of the empty patient beds. He had been on call for the past 34 hours but his mind remained sharp. Across from him, Victor and Emily sat in silence with their notebooks in hand, waiting for answers.

“You said Everett Langley’s case was unusual,” Emily prompted, crossing her arms. “How unusual are we talking?

Dr. Keller exhaled, placing the file on the desk between them. “Beyond anything I’ve seen before. He had no preexisting conditions, no history of mental illness, and yet his behavior deteriorated drastically in a matter of weeks. The cause of death was extreme cardiac arrest but that’s not what concerns me.” He tapped the file. “Look at this.”

Victor leaned forward, scanning the report. “Microscopic tissue anomalies?” He glanced up. You're saying his cells mutated before he died?"

"Exactly." Keller nodded grimly.

Emily pulled the file toward her. "What about Leon Mitchell? Did he show the same mutations?"

Keller nodded. “Both of them had a weird case of an infection unlike anything I have ever seen. Their blood changed too becoming hypercoagulable almost acidic. But that is not the interesting part.”

He flipped another page. “Both of them had small wounds barely noticeable. Everett Langley had scratch marks and Leon Mitchell had small punctures on his neck, similar to bite marks.”

“How is that possible? The reports I accumulated mentioned no such small wounds. I was extremely through, there is no way I missed that.”

"You didn’t," Keller said, almost amused. "Because by the time you saw them, the wounds were gone."

Victor's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Keller folded his arms. "Leon Mitchell wasn’t dead, he was very much alive when they brought him in. He was extremely violent. It took three orderlies to restrain him. And during that struggle—he scratched Everett. But after he was restrained, I noticed there were small bite backs at the nape of his neck."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Emily exchanged a glance with Victor. “You were right.”

Keller's expression sharpened. "About what?"

Victor’s jaw tightened. "I suspected Leon Mitchell infected Everett Langley."

Keller took a slow sip of water from a nearby dispenser. "Close, but not quite." He set the cup down. "The infections were not identical. In fact, they couldn’t be any more different. Everett’s condition was…a more severe version, progression faster. I’m still not sure why. Maybe he ate something contaminated, or…" He trailed off.

Victor didn't wait for him to finish. He pushed back his chair and stood. "We need to talk to Everett’s wife."

******

West 83rd Street, Upper West Side

The apartment building was old but well-maintained, its brick facade blending into the gray sky of the late afternoon. Victor and Emily took the elevator to the third floor, walking down the narrow hallway until they reached the last door—3327.

They knocked on it for a while but there was no answer. Just as they were about to leave they heard the door creak open, the chain lock still fastened. A pair of red, tired eyes peered through the gap. It was Jenna Langley.

Her face was pale, the skin under her eyes dark with exhaustion. Her blonde hair was unkempt, pulled into a loose ponytail, and her breath hitched slightly, as if she had been crying. When she saw them, she quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and cleared her throat.

"I already told the police everything I know," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Emily softened her tone. "We’re not the police. We’re scientists. We’re trying to understand what happened to Everett."

Jenna hesitated, her fingers tightening on the doorframe. For a moment, Victor thought she might shut them out. But then she exhaled sharply and unlatched the chain.

"Come in."

The apartment was silent and dark. The living room was neat but… empty. There were no framed pictures on the walls, no clothes draped over the couch, no sign that Everett had ever lived there. The only furniture in the room was a single chair facing a massive, dark television screen.

Jenna gestured vaguely toward some plastic crates stacked in the corner. "Sorry. I got rid of most of our stuff." Her voice cracked slightly. "I just… I couldn’t."

Emily and Victor sat. Jenna folded her arms across her chest, sniffing as if fighting off another wave of tears.

"Do you want some water?" she asked, almost absentmindedly.

"We’re fine," Victor replied.

Emily shot him a look and nudged his arm.

Victor cleared his throat. "Jenna, we know this is difficult. But we have a few questions about Everett. Is that okay?"

Jenna swallowed and nodded.

Victor leaned forward. "Did he have any injuries before he started acting strange?"

Jenna exhaled slowly. “I-i-it was strange…that night. He came home from the hospital.”

“He worked as an EMR right?” Victor interrupted.

“Yes,” Jenna answered. “He had a huge scratch on his right arm, that day. I asked him but he said it wasn’t a big deal. Still I was still worried so, the next day I went to the clinic to buy him some ointment to…clean it up, but it was gone. Completely healed, like it was never there.”

Emily’s stomach tightened. “What happened after that?”

Jenna’s hands trembled slightly. “He was different.” Her voice barely a whisper as she rubbed her neck. “At first, it was little things like he wouldn’t sleep, he barely ate, but he somehow had more energy than ever. And his skin was pale, cold like freezer cold.”

Victor’s gaze hardened. “And his behavior?” he asked detailing on his notebook.

Jenna blinked rapidly. “The neighbors complained that he was staring at people…in the street, for hours. I would wake up in the middle of the night and he'd just be standing there. Not moving. Just...watching me. But the worst part was when he started getting aggressive.”

“How long from that night did he start getting aggressive?” Emily asked pulling out a notebook from her purse.

Jenna avoids eye contact with them. “I’m not sure. Uh..Uhm... a few weeks I think. It was Wednesday afternoon. I remember it so well. That day Everett woke up happier than usual, he was smiling and loving.” She took a shaky breath. “I-I thought things were finally getting better. I was watching Tv when I heard a sharp loud scream coming from the hallway. I went to check it out. He…”

Emily’s breath was elevated. “He what?”

Jenna nodded tears welling in her eyes. “He bit…a little girl. The little girl was screaming holding the nape of her neck with her hands. The neighbours rushed over to help her but Everett just…stood there. Watching the blood on his hands like he didn’t understand what he had done. Then he ran inside, locked the door, and wouldn’t come out of our room.” Jenna pressed a hand over her mouth. “That was the last time I saw…him alive.”

Victor leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Jenna, this is very important. That little girl, do you know her name?”

Jenna hesitated then shook her head. "No. But her parents live on the fifth floor." She looked down at her hands. "I tried to talk to them. To apologize. But they wouldn’t even open the door.”

Emily exchanged a look with Victor.

Jenna's voice dropped to a whisper, her hands tightening into fists. "And then… a week later, I heard she disappeared," she said with guilt written across her face.

Emily felt her pulse quicken. The room felt a bit colder.