Thomson's eyes hadn't felt the grip of sleep. The photograph, now less a clue and more a taunt, lay on his desk — a sentinel to the night's silence. As dawn crept through the blinds, casting new shadows over old fears, Thomson knew this case was different. It wasn't just another name to cross off, another bounty to collect. It was a chance to reclaim a piece of his soul that had been lost for over a decade.
Thomson: "All right, let's start from the beginning."
His voice was a whisper, a strategy discussed with ghosts of the past. The photo, faded and worn, seemed to be the missing piece of a puzzle he had never managed to solve. Thomson's fingers traced the edges, as if hoping to feel the presence of his child, to pull him out from the paper and into the light.
The sun rose, and with it, Mrs. Penelope returned, her eyes carrying the weight of sleepless concern.
Mrs. Penelope: "I can't thank you enough for taking this on, Mr. Thomson."
Thomson: "Call me Thomson. Formalities aren't my style. Now, tell me everything you know about this picture."
As Mrs. Penelope recounted the events leading up to the murder, Thomson listened. Not just to her words, but to the silence between them — the hesitations, the breaths caught by fear. She spoke of a shadowy figure, one that had been seen lurking near the scene, one that had vanished without a trace.
Thomson: "Someone's always watching, even when you think they're not. That's the first rule of the hunt."
Mrs. Penelope nodded, her story pausing as a new day's clients began to trickle into the office, each with their own tales of woe and wrongdoing. Thomson's assistant, a young man with more enthusiasm than experience, managed the influx with a clumsy diligence.
Assistant: "Thomson, we've got a lead on the shadow figure. A witness claims they saw someone matching the description at the docks the night of the murder."
The docks — a place where the city's heartbeat slowed, where deals were made in whispers, and lives could be bought for the price of silence. Thomson knew it well. It was a place where a man could disappear, or find what he had lost.
Thomson: "Prepare my kit. We're going hunting."
The episode ends with Thomson and his assistant heading to the docks, the early morning mist clinging to them like a shroud. The hunter was out, and the hunt was on. The echoes of the past whispered to Thomson, promising answers, as the city awoke to the rhythm of the oblivious everyday.
To be continued...
What shadows will Thomson find at the docks? Who is the shadowy figure, and how are they connected to the murder and the photograph? Can the past be untangled from the present, or are some threads meant to remain unseen?
Keep an eye out for Episode 3, where the depths of the city's heart are explored, and Thomson's odyssey delves deeper into the murky waters of truth and illusion.
The Bounty Hunter's Odyssey" - Episode 1 - The Hunter's Echo