In the heart of the Marietta Police Department, the Investigative Services Division was a hive of activity. However, in one corner of the bustling precinct, a small oasis of calm existed. The break room, a sanctuary for the weary officers seeking solace from the relentless demands of their duties, was currently occupied by two seasoned detectives, Laura Mitchell and Robert Diaz.

Laura, a tenacious detective with a reputation for her meticulous attention to detail, sat across from Robert, a seasoned investigator known for his intuitive approach to solving cases. Their cups of coffee, the steam gently rising, were the only barrier between them and the case file that lay open on the table.

“Ethan’s case,” Laura began, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, “it’s unlike anything we’ve encountered before.” Her eyes, usually so full of determination, held a hint of confusion. “In all my years on the force, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Robert, his gaze fixed on the case file, nodded in agreement. “It’s a conundrum, alright. The autopsy report didn’t give us much to go on. No signs of physical trauma, no evidence of a struggle, no traces of poison. It’s as if he just... ceased to exist.”

Laura took a sip of her coffee, her mind racing. “And then there’s the location. That house... it’s practically a character in its own grim tale. The stories of disappearances, the rumors of hauntings... it’s like something out of a horror novel.”

Robert leaned back in his chair, his eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. “I’ve heard the whispers, the ghost stories. But we’re detectives, Mitchell. We deal in facts, not fiction. We can’t let the rumors cloud our judgment.”

Laura nodded, her gaze steady. “You’re right, Diaz. We need to focus on the evidence, or lack thereof. We need to delve deeper into Ethan’s life. His relationships, his habits, his secrets. There’s always a clue hidden somewhere.”

“And the house,” Robert added, his gaze returning to the case file. “We need to comb through it again. There might be something we overlooked, something hidden in plain sight.”

Laura finished her coffee, setting the cup down with a determined nod. “Agreed. Let’s get back to it, Diaz. We’ve got a mystery to unravel.”

Their conversation, though quiet, echoed in the bustling precinct. The case of Ethan’s sudden death was a puzzle, a mystery. But Laura and Robert were determined to uncover the truth, no matter how elusive it might be.

The evening had settled in, the darkness outside punctuated by the occasional flicker of a streetlight. David and Lena were in the kitchen, the remnants of their dinner still on the table, the clatter of dishes and the soft hum of the dishwasher filling the room with a comforting domesticity.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the house, a sharp, unexpected sound that made David pause, a dish halfway to the drying rack. Lena looked up from where she was wiping down the table, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Were you expecting anyone?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

David shook his head, setting the dish down and wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “No,” he replied, his voice tight. “Stay here. I’ll see who it is.”

As he made his way to the front door, his mind raced. Who could be visiting at this hour? He wasn’t expecting anyone, and the house wasn’t exactly a hub of social activity.

Opening the door, he was met with the sight of a woman standing on his porch. She was in her late forties, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, her eyes sharp and assessing. She held up a badge, the gleam of the metal catching the porch light. “Detective Laura Mitchell, Marietta Police Department,” she introduced herself, her voice steady and professional. “I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

David felt a knot of unease settle in his stomach. He had a feeling that the evening was about to take a turn he hadn’t anticipated.

Detective Mitchell stepped into the house, her gaze sweeping over the interior with a practiced eye. David closed the door behind her, his mind racing. He led her into the living room, gesturing for her to take a seat. Lena had followed them in, her face pale, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she took a seat across from the detective.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” David offered, hoping to buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts.

“No, thank you,” Laura replied, her gaze settling on David. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I have a few questions about the incident earlier today.”

David nodded, taking a seat next to Lena. He could feel the tension radiating off her, her body rigid beside him. He reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, Detective. What do you need to know?”

Laura pulled out a notepad, flipping it open to a blank page. “We’re still trying to piece together what happened to Mr. Ethan. Can you walk me through it?”

David hesitated, his gaze flicking to Lena. He knew he had to tread carefully, to protect Lena while also cooperating with the police. He took a deep breath, then began to recount the events of the day, carefully omitting any mention of the house’s dark history or Lena’s connection to it.

As he spoke, Laura listened intently, her pen moving across the page in quick, precise strokes. She asked follow-up questions, probing for details, her gaze never leaving David’s face. Lena remained silent, her eyes downcast, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Laura’s questions were methodical, each one building on the last. She started with the basics, asking David about his encounter with Ethan.

“Can you tell me how you came to meet Ethan?” she asked, her gaze steady on David.

David swallowed, his mind racing. “He was a contractor. I hired him to check out some issues with the house. He showed up to do his job.”

“And when did you next see him?”

“At the house,” David replied. “He went into the crawlspace to investigate some issues. He seemed... agitated.”

Laura’s pen paused on the page. “Agitated how?”

David hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “He was upset, said he’d seen something in the house that scared him.”

“And what was that?”

David’s gaze flicked to Lena, then back to Laura. “He didn’t say.”

Laura’s gaze was sharp, her expression unreadable. “Did he mention anything about the house’s history? Any past incidents?”

David’s heart pounded in his chest. “No,” he lied, hoping she wouldn’t see through his deception.

Laura nodded, jotting down his responses before moving on to her next query. “And where was Mr. Harold’s son found?” she asked, her tone professional.

David swallowed hard, the memory of the incident still fresh in his mind. “He...he was in the crawlspace,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t find him, though. The door to the crawlspace had slammed shut. I...I couldn’t get it open. I called 911. The first responders...they were the ones who found him.” His voice trailed off, the image of the first responders prying open the crawlspace door and discovering Ethan’s lifeless body still vivid in his mind.

Laura’s questions continued, each one a careful probe into the events of the day. She asked about David’s reaction, about his call to the emergency services, about his interactions with the responders. Through it all, Lena remained silent, her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Laura closed her notepad, her gaze meeting David’s. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Carter. I may have more questions in the future, but for now, that will be all.”

David nodded, relief washing over him. “Of course, Detective. Anything to help.”

Laura paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Actually, there is one more thing. Would you mind if I took a quick look at the crawlspace?”

David’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lena, who gave him a small nod. “Sure,” he said, leading Laura to the entrance of the crawlspace. He watched as she pulled out a flashlight and disappeared into the darkness.

As they waited for Laura to return, David turned to Lena, his gaze filled with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

Lena nodded, her eyes meeting his. “Yes,” she said, “I’m okay.”