The Door Wasn’t Locked

The Belizean sun shimmered over the turquoise waters as Jessica stepped off the small plane, duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The heat wrapped around her like a warning. After weeks of cold and concrete, it felt almost suspicious.

She inhaled deeply, trying to let the warmth seep into her bones, to remind herself that she was home.

Leanna and Olivia followed close behind, their expressions unreadable. No one said anything. There wasn’t much left to say. They climbed into the old Jeep waiting in long-term parking—Leanna’s quiet arrangement with a bartender who owed them a favor. The engine sputtered before roaring to life, the familiar hum vibrating under Jessica’s hands as she gripped the wheel.

Black Orchid Investigations still stood at the edge of town, nestled between a run-down dive bar and a café that never seemed to close. The wooden sign bearing their name swayed slightly in the ocean breeze, but something felt... off. The door was locked, but Jessica noticed subtle signs—scuffed dirt near the entrance, a faint scratch on the handle. Someone had been here.

She exchanged a glance with Leanna before unlocking the door.

The inside looked exactly as they left it: two desks pushed against opposite walls, an old filing cabinet overflowing with unsolved mysteries, a coffee maker that had seen better days. The ceiling fan creaked overhead, as if it remembered things too. But Jessica still felt it—that invisible pressure of being watched.

"We need to sweep the place," Olivia muttered, already pulling out a small scanner. "If Vanguard’s watching, we need to know."

Leanna ran her fingers along the bookshelves, checking for disturbances. "They weren’t here to trash the place. Just to let us know they could get in."

Jessica exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Let’s check for bugs and get some rest. We’ll deal with it tomorrow."

---

The Next Morning came too soon, and for the first time in months, Jessica had slept in her own bed. No bunkers, no motels, no safe houses—just home.

She woke to the scent of coffee drifting in from the small kitchen. Leanna was already up, legs propped on the desk, flipping through a newspaper. Olivia sat on the floor, laptop balanced on her knees, lost in research. It almost felt normal.

Almost.

Jessica poured herself a cup of coffee, hesitating before speaking. "Do you think it’ll ever be normal again?"

Leanna looked up, arching a brow. "It was never normal, Jess."

Olivia smirked but didn’t look away from her screen. "Normal is overrated anyway."

Jessica sighed and leaned against the counter. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t mind a day or two without gunfire."

As if on cue, the door chimed. A woman stood in the doorway, dark sunglasses masking her eyes. "I need your help. I think my husband was erased."

Jessica exchanged a look with Leanna and Olivia before setting down her coffee. Back to work.