FAR FROM HOME

Charles Death

Behind Soren, a burly man finished a phone call. Lucus Bennett. Dressed plain, but the way he stood made it obvious he wasn’t just some regular bodyguard.

Soren didn’t turn around. “Did you find out what was used on Charles?”

“Yes, sir.” Lucus’s voice went serious. “Our people got the investigation records. Traced the substance on the body. Hydrogen peroxide.”

Soren’s eyes narrowed a little. “Hydrogen peroxide?”

“Yes, sir. Concentration was extremely high. Not the kind people keep at home. It degraded the bones badly. Some parts of the remains had almost broken down. That’s one reason the investigators had so much trouble identifying him. DNA was compromised too. The lab had to work with whatever little biological material was left before they could confirm it was him.”

Soren stayed quiet.

His eyes stayed on Charles’s tombstone.

“Any suspects?” he asked.

Lucus shook his head. “Not yet. We checked every lead we could find. Whoever did this was careful. All the CCTV around where the body was found had been wiped. Cameras around the Anderson estate too—nothing showing Charles leaving the house that day.”

Soren’s eyes narrowed further. “Then look at the Anderson family.”

Lucus nodded right away. “Understood.”

Soren’s gaze went back to the tombstone. Charles had mentioned the family in that last letter. Warned him they were planning to kill him. Soren couldn’t ignore the chance that his brother’s death was tied to them.

Lucus lowered his head a little.

After a short silence he asked, “Sir, do we need to tell the media you’re back?”

Soren finally turned away from the tomb. “No.”

Lucus looked at him. “Should we at least let them know you’ve returned to Nucus?”

“No need.” Soren started walking toward the cemetery entrance without looking back. “If they want to wait, let them wait. I didn’t come back for their attention.”

Lucus lowered his head again. “Understood.”

They reached an ordinary black Jeep parked outside.

The Jeep pulled away from Nucus Memorial Cemetery and headed into the city.

Half an hour later the familiar streets came into view.

Soren had been gone more than ten years. The place had changed almost past recognition. Old buildings gone. New skyscrapers along the main roads. Streets he remembered as quiet neighborhoods now packed with businesses. Westland’s economy had grown fast while he was off fighting. Nucus had gone from a relatively small city to one of the country’s busiest modern centers.

Cars everywhere. People hurrying between buildings. Big commercial districts where quieter places used to be.

But Charles was still dead.

No matter how tall the buildings got or how prosperous the city looked, none of it changed that.

Years earlier, when the war had pushed right up to Westland’s borders, the country had been on the edge. Enemy forces had crossed in. Thousands of soldiers sent out to hold the line. Soren had taken command of the naval forces assigned to the fight and led them through battle after battle.

They’d fought for months.

A lot of men never came back.

He’d watched soldiers under him die and kept leading anyway until Westland finally pushed the invaders back across the border.

After the victory he’d been ready to come home and see Charles again. He never got the chance.

Soren leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

After Charles died, the Anderson family put out an official statement calling it a tragic accident. Said Charles had gone to the seaside alone that day and somehow fallen in. Body recovered later, badly damaged from the water, hard to identify right away.

They’d already buried him before Soren could get back to Nucus.

He’d never believed their story.

Charles had been blind, but he wasn’t careless. He knew the estate better than anyone. Whenever he went outside he always had someone with him. And he never liked going near the sea. Preferred places he knew well, where he could move around without help.

Charles hadn’t just fallen in.

Someone had tried to destroy the body after killing him.

No reliable witnesses. No clear evidence. And no good explanation for that final letter.

His thoughts broke when Lucus reached into the front and handed him a sleek white envelope.

“Sir, the Anderson matriarch’s sixtieth birthday celebration is tonight. Estate’s already full of guests. Almost every important member of the family has come back to Nucus.”

Soren’s expression didn’t change. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

Soren glanced toward Charles’s tomb one more time, then looked away. “Drive to the Anderson Estate.”

His eyes stayed cold as he stared ahead. “If Charles was murdered, the Andersons know more than they’ve told anyone. Tonight I want to know what they’re hiding.”