Chapter 3: A Voice in the Dark

While investigating Emily Reed’s social circle, Harris discovered that she was a well-known local singer.

She had a voice that could hush a room. Her name was familiar to anyone who spent Friday nights at the Blue Note Tavern, or who’d attended Maplewood’s summer block party.

Emily was 30 years old at the time, very beautiful, and possessed a golden voice, making her especially popular.

Photos on her phone showed her laughing with friends, hair shining under the stage lights, her smile genuine and open.

For years, she had performed at local bars and music venues, which was precisely the reason she had conflicts with her previous husband, eventually leading to divorce.

Some folks said her ex couldn’t handle the attention she got—the way men lingered at her shows, the way she shined in the spotlight. Small towns have long memories and longer tongues.

Thomas Reed was 35 at the time, with a good job and appearance, and was reportedly very good to Emily.

He worked at a local insurance agency—steady, responsible, the kind of guy who brought donuts to the office every Friday. Neighbors described him as "a real stand-up guy."

Although both were in their second marriages, they seemed very much in love to outsiders.

They were the couple everyone rooted for—the ones who made second chances seem possible. Their wedding photo hung in the foyer, framed in cherry wood.

According to neighbors, both husband and wife were talented and friendly, and had never had conflicts with anyone.

"Salt of the earth," one neighbor insisted. "Always brought a casserole to the block party."

The first round of investigation showed that revenge was unlikely, but a crime of passion also seemed improbable. For a moment, Harris had no clear direction.

He sat in his car late at night, engine idling, listening to the rain tap against the windshield, turning the puzzle over and over in his head.

However, from an investigative perspective, the more flawless a case appears, the more likely it is hiding a major conspiracy.

Harris quoted an old partner: "Perfect’s just what a liar aims for."

This was definitely a carefully planned murder; they just hadn’t found its flaw yet.

Somewhere, he was sure, was a thread waiting to be pulled—a careless word, a forgotten receipt.

Just as the police were running out of leads, Emily Reed’s mother reported something important.

She called the station, her voice trembling but determined. She wouldn’t let her daughter’s death become another cold case.

"A few months ago, Tom bought Emily an accident insurance policy."

She said it quietly, but Harris heard the weight behind her words. In small towns, folks notice when something changes—especially when it comes to money and marriage.

This was very unusual. Why would a husband buy accident insurance for his wife for no reason?

Harris had seen enough life insurance policies to know they were rarely innocent in cases like these. He felt his pulse quicken—finally, a motive that made the pieces fit.

Harris immediately launched an investigation.

He called in favors at the insurance company, got a subpoena for the policy records, and pulled every bank statement he could find. This was no longer just a hunch.

And this investigation did reveal a problem.

Something was off—the dates, the beneficiary, the amounts. Harris’s instincts finally had a trail to follow.

Three months ago, Thomas Reed had indeed purchased personal accident insurance for his wife.

It was a large policy, with Thomas as the sole beneficiary. The timing was no coincidence. Now, Harris just had to prove it was more than bad luck that brought tragedy to the Reed family.

As Harris stared at the paperwork, a cold certainty settled in his gut: This wasn’t just bad luck. Someone in Maplewood was about to get away with murder—unless he stopped them.