What the Shadows Remember

Jessica stepped into the humid Belizean night, the air heavy with salt and the lingering scents of food stalls closing down for the evening. Red-and-blue lights pulsed against old brick walls, bathing the darkened street in rhythmic flashes of color, an unsettling heartbeat she recognized all too well.

Sam stood near the mouth of the alley, talking quietly to his officers. His posture was confident, shoulders squared, but Jessica noticed the subtle tension in the set of his jaw. He glanced toward her as she approached, his eyes offering a wordless apology for pulling her back into something she desperately wanted to leave behind.

“Sorry about your quiet evening,” he murmured, nodding toward the narrow alleyway.

Jessica forced a faint smile. “Quiet was never my thing anyway.”

He stepped aside, allowing her past the caution tape. Jessica moved forward slowly, her heels crunching softly over gritty pavement. The alley was dimly lit, shadows heavy enough to swallow secrets. An officer shifted aside, giving her an unobstructed view.

The victim lay sprawled against the wall, almost casually slumped as if he’d simply grown tired and sat down. The reality, of course, was far less forgiving. A single shot to the back of the head, clinical and precise. Jessica recognized the execution method immediately: professional, calculated, utterly impersonal.

She knelt carefully, examining the details. The dead man was older, face weathered, etched with lines that suggested a life spent in shadows. His wrists bore faded tattoos, symbols of a world that no longer existed, a hammer and sickle, fading inked stars. Ex-KGB. Jessica felt an unsettling twist in her stomach, something between dread and recognition.

His face was older. Softer. But she knew the eyes. She’d buried this man years ago, at least she thought she had.

“Do you know him?” Sam asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long.

She hesitated, eyes fixed on the corpse, before finally admitting, “I’ve seen him before. Long ago. He’s supposed to be dead.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jessica exhaled slowly. “Very.”

Sam’s gaze darkened, turning toward the scene, absorbing its implications. “Any idea what he was doing in Belize?”

She shook her head slowly, the unease refusing to leave. “Nothing good.”

Sam crouched beside her, lowering his voice. “Jess, this could mean something. He could’ve been here for you.”

Jessica pushed herself upright, distancing herself from the body, from what it represented. She dusted her hands lightly, as if wiping away her past. “Maybe. But this isn’t mine anymore, Sam. This is your jurisdiction. Your fight.”

“Understood,” he said quietly, clearly hearing more than just the words. “We’ll handle it. You don’t have to step back into the shadows.”

Jessica nodded, grateful for his understanding, but the cold knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She’d spent so long chasing and being chased, she hardly knew how to stand still.

Turning her back to the scene, she walked slowly back toward the street. The lights and the noise faded behind her, and she felt each step, measured, controlled in an attempt to reclaim the ordinary, peaceful life she’d briefly allowed herself to believe in.

But even as she tried to walk away, the alley’s darkness clung to her like smoke, a shadow that wouldn’t quite let go.

* * *

Back at Black Orchid Investigations, the dim light from desk lamps cast a gentle glow through the open office. Leanna glanced up from her laptop, eyes immediately locking onto Jessica’s.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” she remarked evenly.

“Close enough,” Jessica admitted, dropping heavily into a chair opposite her friend. “Ex-KGB agent. Assassinated. Single shot to the head.”

Leanna raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting instantly from casual curiosity to intense analysis. “Professional?”

“Very,” Jessica confirmed, meeting her friend’s gaze. “He wasn’t here by accident. And he wasn’t here for a vacation.”

Olivia emerged quietly from a side room, coffee mug in hand, clearly overhearing everything. “You okay?”

Jessica forced a small smile. “Fine. Just tired of chasing shadows.”

Olivia studied her carefully, unconvinced. “You know shadows have a habit of chasing back.”

Jessica sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know. But Sam’s handling it. It’s his jurisdiction.”

Leanna watched her carefully, voice measured, cautious. “Jess, if this is something bigger...”

Jessica interrupted gently. “It probably is. But it’s not our problem. Not tonight, anyway.”

Olivia sipped her coffee, eyes sharp and skeptical. “You believe that?”

Jessica stared back at her, unwavering. “I’m trying to.”

Silence stretched comfortably among them, a fragile truce with the unknown. Jessica leaned back, closing her eyes for just a moment, grateful for their quiet presence.

Then, as if timed by fate, her phone vibrated sharply against the desktop. Jessica’s eyes snapped open, her pulse instantly quickening as she recognized the number.

“It’s Sam,” she murmured, her voice oddly strained as she answered. “Jess here.”

Sam’s voice was low, tense, full of a familiar urgency she had secretly hoped never to hear again. “Jess, I need you at the station. Now. We found something. Something you need to see.”

Jessica hesitated, the shadows pressing in again, undeniable, suffocating.

“I’ll be there,” she finally said, ending the call.

Olivia and Leanna watched her closely, neither speaking, neither needing to.

Jessica stood slowly, grabbing her jacket, feeling every ounce of the resignation that had settled once again into her bones.

“It seems,” she said softly, almost to herself, “the shadows weren’t done with me yet.”