Chapter 3 - THE MIDNIGHT AUTOPSY OF A THREADAt 2:00 AM, Naomi sat at her workbench in the estate's old tack room, the space illuminated only by a harsh, green-tinted UV examination lamp.
On the stainless-steel examination tray lay the shred of braided red nylon she had pulled from Edmund's coat sleeve, alongside a sample of the exact nylon cord used in the estate's equestrian jump poles and rappelling gear.
Under the ultraviolet light, the fibers glowed with a distinct chemical luminescence. This wasn't standard pet leash material. It was military-grade tactical descent cord, treated with a specialized synthetic waterproofing polymer manufactured exclusively by Aegis Logistics—a private security contractor shell company fully owned and operated by Edmund Croft.
Naomi’s phone buzzed violently against the metal table. A text message from an unknown number flashed across the screen:
Drop the investigation, Ms. Hart. Some dogs aren't worth losing your license over. Or your life.
May you like
She didn't hesitate. She screenshot the message, encrypted it, and forwarded it directly to an encrypted drop-box linked to Julian’s personal terminal. But before the data could finish uploading, the tack room’s overhead fluorescent lights flickered violently and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness.
Footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and calculated—crept across the gravel path outside the heavy wooden door.
