Blood and gun

While she was searching, Cindy sat by Alexander's desk and opened the top drawer. The next moment, her blood ran cold.

Inside the drawer lay a gun, its dark metal glinting ominously in the dim light. Next to it was a small cloth with dried blood on it. Cindy's breath caught in her throat as she reached for the cloth, her fingers trembling. The dried blood made her skin crawl, but it was the familiarity of the cloth that unsettled her even more.

She unfolded it carefully, her eyes widening in shock. The cloth was a handkerchief, and not just any handkerchief—it was hers. She recognized the intricate embroidery on the corner, a design she had done herself in her teens. She had lost it years ago and never knew what had happened to it. How did it end up here, in Alexander's drawer, stained with blood?