Chapter 1: The Client Who Cried

While working my hands into a client’s tight shoulders, I heard stories—some wild, some sad—but never anything like what Mr. Wallace shared that day. The crime he described was both brutal and fascinating, and as he spoke, his voice cracked, and he started to cry right there on the table.

His shoulders shook, tears streaming down his face. I grabbed the box of Kleenex from the side table, the scent of lavender oil still hanging in the air, and pressed it gently into his hand. My fingers hovered a second too long—was I crossing a line? I wasn’t sure, so I pulled back and waited, awkward, as he tried to pull himself together.

I hesitated, then asked, more curious than before, “It’s just an old case from years back, and it’s already closed. Why are you still so shaken by it?”

He wiped his eyes, the tissue crumpled in his grip. He told me that this tragic case wasn’t as absurd as everyone believed. In fact, it had never really ended.

And now, he said, it should finally come to an end.