Chapter 2

Julian's voice wavered slightly as he tried to clarify, "Hmm!? I met him, though? Like… just a few weeks ago." His brow furrowed with the effort to recall the exact timeline.

Joshua looked up, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "But didn't you say it was just a few days ago?" he asked, his tone hinting at genuine bewilderment.

Julian rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious gesture that did little to ease the tension. "Oh! No, I meant a few weeks ago," he corrected, his voice rushing as if trying to catch up with his thoughts. "I misspoke yesterday. I was a bit rushed—caught up in the middle of work, you see."

Joshua's confusion softened into a reluctant understanding. "Ah, okay…" he said, his tone now more accommodating. They both resumed their drinks, the conversation fading into the background as they continued to enjoy their night out.

When the bar's closing time approached, the effects of the alcohol were evident. Julian stumbled slightly as he made his way toward the exit. Joshua steadied him, the familiar camaraderie between them evident in his gentle support. Hailing a cab, he helped Julian into the backseat, his own fatigue momentarily forgotten.

"Hey, bro, wanna hang out more?" Julian asked, his voice slurring just enough to betray his inebriation.

"Nah, you're pretty drunk, man. You need to get home safely," Joshua replied, a hint of concern in his voice.

Julian's eyes, bleary and pleading, searched Joshua's face. "You sure?" he asked again, his tone laced with disappointment.

"Yeah, I've got to head home too," Joshua reiterated. "Take care, okay?" As the cab pulled away, Julian sank into the seat, leaning back with a resigned sigh.

Joshua watched the cab drive off before beginning his walk home. The night air was cool, and the city's hum was a soothing backdrop to his thoughts. As he neared his neighborhood, the distant wail of sirens pierced through the stillness. Curiosity and a growing sense of unease drew him closer.

Approaching his house, he saw a chaotic scene unfolding. Police cars and an ambulance were parked outside, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow on the gathering crowd. Murmurs of concern and speculation buzzed through the air. Joshua's heart pounded in his chest as he pushed through the throng of onlookers and the officers stationed to maintain order.

Jennifer, a police officer with a stern but sympathetic demeanor, stepped in his path. "Sir, you can't go inside the crime scene," she said firmly, her hand pressing against his chest to halt his progress.

Joshua's eyes, wide with distress, locked onto hers. "Move! I'm a family member," he insisted, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders.

Jennifer's colleague, a male officer with a calm demeanor, intervened. "Hey, buddy, calm down," he said, placing a gentle hand on Joshua's arm. "It's okay. Let's talk outside."

Joshua, his mind racing and his breath coming in shallow bursts, followed the officer outside. The cool night air did little to soothe his rising panic.

"What's your name?" the officer asked, his voice measured and professional.

"Joshua Bano," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm the son of Cecelia."

The officer's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry to inform you, Joshua, but your parents have passed away."

Joshua's world seemed to tilt as the words sunk in. "W-What happened, officer?" His voice cracked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Unfortunately, your parents were murdered," the officer said gently. "We haven't caught the perpetrator yet. I apologize for the delay in information."

The ground seemed to shift beneath Joshua's feet. He felt as though he was in a waking nightmare. Without another word, he turned and ran back toward the house, his legs moving on autopilot.

Upstairs, in his parents' room, the scene was one of grim professionalism. Three officers were busy taking photographs, their movements methodical. But for Joshua, the sight before him was a gut-wrenching shock. His mother's lifeless form, his father's body—each detail hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face as he knelt beside them, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.

The officers, their faces a mix of sympathy and determination, tried to offer comfort, but their words were lost on him. Joshua's world had narrowed to a painful blur, their voices a distant murmur as he was gently but firmly guided away from the scene.

---

**Forty Minutes Later**

Joshua sat on the steps outside his house, slumped against the wooden railing, the weight of his grief pressing heavily on him. The moon cast long shadows, adding to the somber atmosphere. Jennifer approached, her expression a mix of concern and empathy.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Joshua. We're going to find the person responsible and ensure they're brought to justice."

Joshua's silence was profound, his shoulders shaking with the occasional sob. Jennifer, her heart aching at the sight, made a call to arrange for one of her teammates to take Joshua to the police station. "Joshua, come with us. It's already 1 a.m., and you need to rest," she said, her tone imbued with maternal concern.

Joshua, with a deep, resigned sigh, followed the officer who had been dispatched to escort him. Jennifer watched with a heavy heart as they drove away, the image of Joshua's broken figure etched in her mind.

---

**At the Police Station**

Joshua, exhausted and emotionally drained, slumped on a bench in the police station. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, a stark contrast to the quiet chaos of his thoughts. The officers went about their duties, their voices a dull hum in the background.

Morning came, and the officers gently woke Joshua. "We've reviewed the initial findings," one of them said, his tone both professional and sympathetic. "Your parents were shot, but there were no additional clues at the scene. The cameras on the street were non-functional, so we don't have footage. We're still investigating."

Joshua, his eyes bloodshot and his hair disheveled, struggled to absorb the information. "Do you have a place to stay?" the officer asked, ensuring he had somewhere safe.

"Yes… I have a house," Joshua replied, his voice a low murmur, barely coherent from the hangover and the weight of recent events.

"Alright," the officer said, nodding. "You should get some rest. We'll keep you updated as soon as we have more information."

---

**At Joshua's Second House**

The second house, a gift from his grandfather, was now a place of refuge tinged with sorrow. Joshua lay on the bed, staring at the family photos scattered across the nightstand. Each image was a painful reminder of the loss he had endured. A sudden realization struck him—a memory that had been pushed aside by the shock of the night before.

Determined, he pushed himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. His movements were hurried and frantic as he called a cab and rushed back to the crime scene. The drive seemed endless, his thoughts a chaotic whirl of grief and urgency.

When he arrived, the house was cordoned off with police tape. Officers were busy setting up warning signs and securing the perimeter. Joshua, breathless and determined, approached one of the officers. "Hello, officer. Can I go inside? I need to inspect a few things," he requested, his voice a mix of desperation and resolve.

The officer's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, you're the victim's son! But I'm afraid that's not possible," he said apologetically.

"Please, just for a moment," Joshua pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency.

The officer hesitated, then relented. "Alright, but make it quick," he said, allowing Joshua to enter.

"Letting him in?" another officer asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "He's family, so he might have something to contribute, like mourning."

Joshua moved swiftly through the house, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached his room, where he pushed aside a panel in the wall to reveal a hidden room. Inside was a computer, its screen casting a dim glow. Joshua sat down and accessed the hidden camera feed, his hands trembling.

The footage played back the harrowing events of the night. Two individuals dressed in black tracksuits, accompanied by armed men, appeared at the front door. Joshua watched in horror as his mother opened the door expecting to see joshua