Data & Dust

Clink! Thud!

The scattered bottles on the floor jingled and rolled against each other as Ethan struggled to steady himself, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. His heart pounded violently in his chest as the AI’s words burned into his brain: ANNA KNOWS MORE THAN SHE’S TOLD YOU.

For a split second, it was as if the world had stopped spinning. The room around him blurred as his stiff posture tightened, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He swallowed, his throat dry as sandpaper, struggling to comprehend the message.

“No… no, that’s not possible,” he thought, shaking his head as if he could erase the message staring back at him. His pulse hammered in his ears, thoughts crashing together like a chaotic storm.

“No,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “There’s no way Anna —”

A sudden rush of nausea hit him, and he stared at the floor, his legs trembling like jelly. His mind screamed in denial, trying to piece together how the woman he trusted most — loved — could be connected to something so dark, so twisted.

“This… this is wrong,” Ethan choked out, clutching the edge of his desk as if it were a lifeline. “It has to be a mistake. There’s no way Anna could —”

He stopped abruptly, his voice cracking under the weight of his own words.

“Why don’t you tell me all about Anna?” Sato asked, his tone probing.

Ethan flinched, his heart lurching.

He looked up, his eyes wild. “What do you mean? She doesn’t know anything! I’m telling you, she’s not involved in this —”

But Sato’s silence spoke louder than any denial could. The detective’s gaze was hard, assessing, but there was something else there too — something that looked dangerously like pity.

Panic flared in Ethan’s chest, hot and suffocating. He shook his head again, more violently this time. “No. You’ve got it wrong!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the trashed room. “Anna would never… she —”

She kept secrets from you before, a cold, insidious voice whispered at the back of his mind. What makes you so sure she didn’t hide this too?

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Ethan’s breath hitched, his vision blurring as realization slammed into him. A painful mixture of betrayal, fear, and confusion twisted inside him, making it hard to breathe. He clenched his fists, nails digging painfully into his palms as he struggled to steady himself.

“She’s… she’s not involved,” he repeated, weaker this time. Please, don’t let her be involved.

Sato stepped closer, his expression somber. “Ethan, I need you to stay focused. Whoever’s behind this is manipulating both of us. But if this Anna person’s involved… we have to consider every possibility. Do you understand?”

Ethan barely heard him. The detective’s words were drowned out by the roar of thoughts spiraling uncontrollably in his mind. Anna… why? What have you done?

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously. He couldn’t break down. Not now. Not with everything at stake. But the image of Anna — smiling, laughing, sharing quiet moments together — clashed violently with the reality unfolding before him.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered brokenly, more to himself than to Sato. “I thought I knew her…”

Sato’s gaze softened, just a fraction, and that flicker of pity twisted like a knife in Ethan’s gut. “Ethan, you need to be honest. If she’s connected, even a little, we need to know —”

“She’s not!” Ethan shouted, but the fire in his voice had burned out. His shoulders slumped, all the fight draining out of him. “She’s… she’s not.”

He dropped his head into his hands, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “She can’t be.”

“This Anna?” Sato inquired, his voice heavy with curiosity as he held up the picture frame he’d seen almost hidden among a stack of old books and crumpled papers. The glass was smeared with dust, but the image beneath was still clear — smiling eyes, soft brown hair, a woman’s face framed by sunlight.

Before Sato could say another word, Ethan reached out, snatching the frame from the detective’s grasp with a quick, jerking motion. He set it down on his cluttered desk, face down, as if the picture itself was too painful to even look at. The sudden movement made a few pens roll to the floor, clattering against the wood. For a moment, the room was filled with the awkward echo of silence.

“That’s… that’s my wife,” Ethan muttered, his voice rough around the edges, as if the admission had cost him something vital. His gaze flitted everywhere but Sato’s face — settling on the empty bottles beside his laptop, on the half-open window where cold night air seeped through. Anywhere but on the man standing before him.

“So you’re married?” Sato’s voice sharpened, an edge of frustration creeping in. “Then who is this Anna?”

“Look, I —” He hesitated, his pulse thrumming in his ears. “Anna… she was someone I turned to when everything fell apart.”

As the admission hung in the air, he felt a fissure in his resolve, the truth inching closer to the surface. But how much could he reveal? He stared again at the floor, trying to gather his thoughts. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable, the thought of sharing his pain too overwhelming.

But Sato’s steady presence was a reminder that he had to try. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I knew her… but now I’m not so sure.”

Sato’s gaze remained steady, and for a moment, the silence hung heavy between them. Ethan could feel the weight of Sato’s scrutiny, pushing against the walls he had built around his heart.

Ethan’s shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I left my wife a couple of years ago,” he said quietly, almost like he was confessing a sin. “It’s a long story.”

“Do you see us going anywhere? Start talking,” Sato shot back, his brow furrowing deeply. “You keep saying Anna, Anna, like she’s the whole world to you. But you’ve got a wife, Ethan. A real, flesh-and-blood person who —”

“I know that!” Ethan snapped, his voice cracking under the strain. He ran a trembling hand through his disheveled hair, dragging in a shuddering breath. “I know. But I… I left her. She wasn’t… what I thought she was.” He paused, closing his eyes as if trying to piece together memories that kept slipping through his fingers. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us.”

Sato’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And then you met Anna?” he asked softly, the heat in his tone dimming to a simmer.

Ethan nodded, staring down at his hands. “Yeah. I met Anna when I was at my lowest. I’d lost everything — my marriage, my sense of who I was. I know how it sounds, but you have to understand… After I left my wife, I was... I was a wreck. I thought I’d lost everything. And then Anna came into my life, out of nowhere, like she’d been waiting for me all along. Like she was meant to... save me.”

Sato’s lips curled in a cynical half-smile. “Save you? So you left your wife because of Anna?”

Ethan shook his head vehemently. “No, it wasn’t like that! I left because my marriage was already falling apart. There was so much resentment, so many lies. I was drowning in it, and then... Anna pulled me out of it. She made me feel —” He cut himself off, glancing away as if the very thought was too raw, too vulnerable to put into words.

“But then she came along, and for the first time in a long time… everything made sense. Being with her, it was just… perfect.”

A bitter smile tugged at Sato’s mouth, his eyes narrowing. “Perfect? Don’t bullshit me, Ethan. Nobody’s perfect.”

Ethan laughed softly, a sad, hollow sound that echoed around the cramped office. “You’re right. She wasn’t perfect. But… it felt perfect, you know? For a while, anyway. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been looking for. A second chance, or — I don’t know.” He shook his head, struggling to put the feeling into words.

Silence hung between them, thick and oppressive. Sato’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “I get it, Ethan. I do. But you have to understand where I’m coming from. You say Anna was perfect, but perfect doesn’t just happen. People aren’t perfect. They’re messy, complicated. They make mistakes. So what was it? What’s the catch?”

Ethan flinched, his shoulders hunching defensively. “There’s no catch,” he murmured, but his voice lacked conviction. “She just... she got me. The way no one else ever did.”

Sato leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then why does it sound like you’re hiding something? You’re talking like she’s still here, but...” He glanced around the disheveled room, the empty bottles, the mess that seemed to mirror the chaos in Ethan’s life. “Where is she, Ethan?”

Ethan’s gaze drifted toward the window, the wind outside rattling the panes softly, and for a moment, he let himself imagine that if he looked out just a little longer, he might see Anna’s silhouette walking through the shadows. But all he saw was his own blurred reflection staring back at him — haunted, empty, and utterly alone. “I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She just… left. No calls, no notes. Just disappeared.”

Sato watched him for a long moment, the tension in his posture softening. “And you’ve been searching for her ever since,” he murmured, as if the answer had been right in front of him all along.

Ethan nodded slowly, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah. And every time I think I’m getting closer… I find out I’m further away than ever.”

Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating. Sato’s gaze lingered on Ethan, on the way his shoulders slumped, on the haunted look in his eyes. He could see it now — how much Ethan had lost, how much he’d given up. Not just his wife, but himself, piece by piece.

“Listen, Ethan,” the detective said quietly, reaching out to gently turn the picture frame back over, the woman’s smile bright even in the dim light. “If Anna was real — if she really meant that much to you — then you owe it to yourself to keep looking. But you’ve got to be honest with me. With yourself. Otherwise…”

Ethan nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll lose her all over again,” he finished softly.

“Yeah,” Sato agreed. He stepped back, giving Ethan some space. “We’ll figure this out. But no more secrets, okay?”

Ethan glanced at the photo, his heart aching with the weight of everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d kept hidden. “No more secrets,” he whispered.

Sato’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion. He looked at Ethan, his expression a mix of confusion and something else — something darker. “Get me a tech.” He called on his phone, his voice stern, a stark contrast to the softness of his earlier tone.

“What’s that?” Ethan asked, eyeing the detective warily.

“Oh, just need someone to check out your setup. See where you’re connected and all that. Don’t worry, we’re not taking anything,” Sato replied casually, puffing out a cloud of smoke. He waved a hand dismissively. “Should’ve tapped in here a long time ago while we were keeping tabs on you. Didn’t have a clue what we were dealing with.”

Sato’s smile was unnervingly calm as he pulled up a chair and dragged over the ashtray, flicking the cigarette to dislodge the ash. “While we wait,” he continued, easing back and crossing his legs, “why don’t you tell me all about Anna?”

Ethan’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard.

“Like you said... no secrets.” Sato’s eyes narrowed slightly, and the shift in his expression was enough to make Ethan’s heart rate spike. It was a look that promised consequence. “I don’t like omissions, Ethan. So start from the beginning. Let’s do that at the station.”

Ethan hesitated, but there was no way out. Sato wouldn’t tolerate anything less than every detail.

As Sato guided Ethan out of the house, the tension clung to them like a thick fog, stretching each moment as he anticipated the impending revelations.

What secrets would the tech uncover, and how far down the rabbit hole would they go?