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“They never mentioned her even though the results indicate that?”

“And yet the Seraphin Bay police notified them. I have the police commissioner’s phone records; you can thank Lena for that. He called the headmaster that same day, and the call lasted five minutes.”

“He called him to tell him that the body found belonged to a student, and he didn’t even issue a statement about it within the school, not even to the faculty.”

“Wait for the rest. What do you think the case was closed under?”

“Suicide…”

“Exactly. Yet the chain marks perfectly match those of the other victims. Damien, he's back. I don't think he's an impersonator.”

Fuck..

“Okay, keep me posted if you get any more info. I'm going to see the headmaster and try to find out more. Tell the team that when I get back, it's my turn to buy drinks,” I say before heading into the main building.

“Okay, and take care, yeah?”

"You too."

He's back. The Chain Poet is fucking back.

Why? Why now? What triggered this?

The headmaster’s office door is oddly wide open, as if he expected me to pay him a visit. I knock once and then go in before he even gives me permission. He doesn't immediately look up, as if I don't deserve his respect.

It must be his way of reminding me that here, he's the one in charge.

“Mr. Caldwell, what can I do for you this time?” He asks, feigning politeness.

“You know a body was found,” I say. He settles back in his chair, as if I’d just told him about some administrative delay. So I continued, “A local girl enrolled here. Strangely enough, she never showed up for the semester.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but his gaze falls on me.

I sit down opposite him and speak again, “She was killed several days before term started.”

He slowly gets up and walks toward the bay window overlooking the campus. The buildings, the walkways, the figures training, unaware of what’s happening above their heads. “Do you know why my office is here?” He asks, gesturing outside. “I can see the parking lot, the exits, the gate. I have access to the security cameras. I know everything. I see everything.”

“Me too.”

He turns halfway around, his gaze locked on mine. “Would you like a drink?”

“Get to the point,” I spit.

A thin smile stretches across his lips. “I often see you with that student, Ms. Vitelli, in the car, late at night, low voices, unnecessary detours.” He shrugs. “Strange, for someone supposedly here to solve a case.”

My body stiffens the moment her name leaves his mouth.

“I took you in,” he continues. “I found you a room on campus so you could work here in peace. Yet, I get the feeling that’s not enough for you.”

I stand up and take a step forward. “You know exactly why I’m here, to find a murderer, and yet you continue to monitor me and my students as if what I’m doing belongs to you.” My jaw clenches. “Tell me, do you want to sabotage my investigation? Do you want this case to disappear?” He sneers without answering. “Either you’re the person I’m looking for, or you know who did it. Because the girl found dead had to be here this year and you don’t look particularly concerned or saddened by this information.”

He sighs wearily, as if the truth is a burden he’s carried for far too long. “Do you really think this academy survives on principles? Training agents who will then return to the mainland costs more than people realize. Government funding has never been enough.” He finally turns fully toward me. “What keeps this academy alive is the donors. And when a donor asks for something, there’s no discussion. No questions. You keep quiet and obey.”

Corruption and compromise. A system rotten to the core.

“If I find out you’re involved,” I say slowly, “I’ll make you go through hell and, I’ll let you burn there.”

He smiles slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister Caldwell.”