TEEN WOLF: WOLVES AND WHISPERS

The morning after the discovery at the preserve, the air in the Stilinski living room was thick with unspoken thoughts. The three of them—Scott, Stiles, and Javi—had spent the night dissecting every possible angle, trying to force scattered puzzle pieces into a coherent picture. But all they had were jagged edges and missing parts.

The forensic report was supposed to be their guiding thread, but it still wasn't in their hands. Sheriff Stilinski had promised to call the moment it came through, and until then, they were left in the purgatory of waiting.

Stiles sat hunched on the couch, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the armrest. His knee bounced, his eyes flicking between the clock and the front door, as if sheer willpower could make time move faster. Every tick of the second hand was a taunt, a reminder that they were powerless in this moment.

Scott paced the length of the living room, raking his fingers through his hair. His movements were restless, agitated. "How long does it take to get a damn report?" he muttered, shooting another glance at the door as if expecting his presence alone to summon the sheriff. "Something's up."

Javi stood apart from them, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Outwardly, he was calm—silent, observant. But there was an intensity in his gaze, a sharpness that suggested his mind was racing just as fast as theirs. He had always been perceptive, but after years away, he'd honed that skill into something more precise.

He wasn't voicing his thoughts yet, but something about this whole situation gnawed at him. The quiet. The waiting. It felt deliberate.

The silence was unbearable, and Stiles finally cracked. "You know, this would be so much easier if we had, like, any answers."

Javi pushed off the wall, shaking his head with a smirk. "Cut me some slack, Stilinski," he said, slinging the strap of his duffle bag into place. "We're all on edge, but jumping the gun won't help."

Stiles groaned. "Yeah, well, this waiting is killing me."

Scott stopped pacing just long enough to exhale sharply. "We should've had that report by now." His voice was lower this time, edged with something between frustration and suspicion. "What's taking so long?"

Javi arched a brow. "Maybe the report's not as clear-cut as you think. Or maybe…" He hesitated, his eyes scanning their reactions before finishing, "they don't want to share it just yet."

Stiles shot him a look, unimpressed. "I'm not in the mood for your cryptic nonsense today, Javi. I just want the truth."

Javi didn't waver. "You think I don't?" His voice was quieter now, but no less firm. "We all want answers."

The weight of his words settled between them.

A second passed. Then another. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock, each measured beat amplifying the tension.

Then, the phone rang.

Stiles practically launched himself forward, snatching it off the receiver. "Stilinski."

A pause.

His expression shifted in real-time—frustration melting into something more focused. Anticipation. Apprehension. He nodded, swallowing whatever reaction was threatening to break through. "Got it. We're on our way."

Scott didn't wait for an explanation. The moment Stiles hung up, he was already reaching for his jacket. "The sheriff's got the report?"

Stiles nodded. "We need to go."

Javi pushed off the wall, his expression unreadable. He could feel it—the weight of whatever was waiting for them. The air felt different, like they were standing at the edge of something big, something that could change the course of everything.

They stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the sunlight stretching long shadows across the driveway. The stillness of the town felt eerie, like the world hadn't caught up to what they knew was coming.

Javi tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky. "See? The sun is bright. Could be a good sign."

Scott gave a small nod. "Could be."

Stiles groaned, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Or it could just be another annoyingly sunny day in Beacon Hills. Can't it ever be cloudy when things go to hell around here?"

Scott chuckled, while Javi smirked, shifting his bag. "You ever stop complaining?"

Stiles crossed his arms. "Excuse me for having a negative outlook when everything is going from bad to worse."

Scott sighed, ever the peacemaker. "Guys, guys. C'mon. We're not here for personal drama. We need the report."

And with that, they climbed into the jeep, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. Whatever the report contained, one thing was certain—once they saw it, there would be no turning back.

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The drive to the sheriff's station was tense, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Stiles' fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly they were white, his knuckles straining. Scott sat beside him, stiff, his gaze fixed ahead, ever-alert. In the backseat, Javi stared out the window, his mind racing, the weight of what they were about to face pressing down on him.

The car was silent, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional thrum of tires against the road.

Scott's voice broke through the quiet, low and thoughtful. "What do you think we'll find?"

Stiles let out a breath, his eyes flickering between the road and the rearview mirror. "Honestly? I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not gonna be good." He shot a quick glance at Javi.

Javi smirked, tapping his duffle bag with his fingers. "Got anything to say?" he teased, his tone light, but the glint in his eye was anything but casual.

Stiles rolled his eyes, though there was no real heat behind the action. He was too focused on the road to engage in their usual back-and-forth. "Shut up, Javi," he muttered, his voice absentminded.

After a beat of silence, Scott's voice cut through again, his curiosity piqued. "So… what's with the duffle bag? You don't have a body in there, do you?"

Javi chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, but if I did, you'd be the last to know, McCall." He shot Scott a teasing grin, but there was an edge to it—something unreadable beneath the humor.

Scott arched a brow, unimpressed. "Seriously."

Javi sighed, tapping the bag again, almost absentmindedly. "It's just some stuff I like to keep on me. A few essentials. You never know when you'll need to be prepared."

Stiles glanced at him through the rearview mirror, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Prepared for what, exactly?"

Javi met his gaze, his expression neutral. "Anything."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look but let it go—for now. There were bigger things to worry about, and grilling Javi about his mysterious duffle bag could wait.

The sheriff's station came into view, and the tension in the Jeep thickened. Whatever was in that forensic report, it was about to change everything.

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The moment they stepped into the sheriff's station, a shift in the air was unmistakable. It wasn't just the hum of fluorescent lights or the distant murmur of deputies that caught their attention—it was the palpable tension. Deputies huddled in groups, their whispered conversations faltering as their gazes flicked toward the door. It felt as though the whole station was holding its breath, waiting for something they couldn't name.

Sheriff Stilinski was standing just outside his office, waiting for them, his usually steady expression now taut with unease. His hands gripped the report so tightly, the paper crinkled under the pressure. Something was off—his usually stoic demeanor had cracked, leaving an edge of concern that neither Scott nor Stiles had ever seen.

"In my office," he ordered, his voice sharper than usual. "Now."

There was no hesitation. They followed him into the cramped office, the door swinging shut behind them with a heavy, final sound. The small room seemed to close in around them, the silence thickening as they all stood, waiting. The only sound was the soft buzz of the lights above, their low hum amplifying the tension that hung in the air like a storm about to break.

The sheriff moved to his desk with deliberate care, laying the report down in front of them. He didn't look at them—he was focused on the document, his jaw clenched as if he were preparing to say something he didn't want to.

When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with something none of them had expected. "I have the report," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "and it's not good news."

The words sank into the room like a stone thrown into still water, sending ripples through the air.

"Just as I thought," the sheriff continued, his finger tapping the report with a precise rhythm. "Cause of death: asphyxiation. The injection site we found? A sedative."

The room seemed to shrink around them. Scott's stomach dropped, his breath catching in his throat as he exchanged a look with Stiles. This wasn't random. This wasn't just another murder. This was something much darker, much more deliberate.

"A sedative...someone drugged him?" Scott's voice was tight, his jaw set hard, his face flushed with the anger building inside him.

Stiles frowned, brow furrowing as he processed the new information. "Asphyxiation? But we didn't see any signs of strangulation, no bruising or anything—" He cut himself off, confusion making his voice rise.

The sheriff's gaze flicked from Stiles to Scott, his expression grim. "That's what's throwing us off, too. It wasn't the hanging that killed him. The sedative knocked him out cold, but it was what happened afterward that did him in."

Scott's fists clenched, his frustration evident. "Someone did something to him while he was unconscious." His voice dropped low, filled with a dangerous undertone. "Something bad."

Stiles' fingers curled into his hair, tugging at it in frustration. His mind raced, his ADHD making it almost impossible to stay still. "Okay, okay, so we know the cause of death wasn't accidental. Someone wanted him dead. But why? Why go through all this trouble?"

Javi, who had been silent until now, leaned forward, his arms crossed, eyes narrowing as he absorbed every detail. He seemed to be piecing it all together in his mind, the sharp edge of his intellect cutting through the confusion. "We're missing something. Why go through all this trouble—drugging him, making it look like a hanging, and then…" He trailed off, his eyes flicking to each of them, as if the answer was just out of reach.

The sheriff's gaze hardened, and he turned his focus entirely to Javi. "That's exactly what we need to figure out. Whoever did this wanted to make sure Langer didn't fight back. Didn't resist. The sedative kept him unconscious long enough for the killer to do what they needed to do."

Scott's frustration flared, a quiet growl building in his chest. "This doesn't make sense. Why him? Why go to all these lengths for a cardiothoracic surgeon? There's got to be something we're missing."

Stiles began to pace the room, his restlessness palpable. His mind was a whirlwind of questions. "This isn't just about a murder. It's personal. Whoever did this had a reason, a message they were trying to send." He turned back to the sheriff, his voice growing more intense. "We just have to figure out what that message is."

Javi's eyes flickered toward the sheriff, his expression shifting into something more serious. He wasn't just the outsider anymore; this was personal to him too. "How did the coroner take this? Any leads?"

The sheriff shook his head slowly, the motion filled with frustration. "The autopsy's still incomplete, but they're saying the asphyxiation likely came from something smothering him—maybe a pillow, or a cloth. The sedative kept him knocked out long enough for whatever was smothering him to finish the job."

The weight of the silence that followed was suffocating. Scott, Stiles, and Javi all stood there, each one of them processing the grim reality unfolding before them.

Someone had killed Dr. Langer, and they had done it with precision, with careful planning. But the question remained—why? And what was the real message behind all this?

Javi rubbed his temples, the weight of the case pressing down on him. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to click together, but there was still something off, something missing. "Okay, what if..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing as the idea sharpened in his mind. "What if the preserve isn't the real crime scene? What if it was just a dumpsite?"

Stiles halted mid-pace, his eyes locking onto Javi's with a mixture of confusion and sudden intrigue. "A dumpsite?" he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief.

Javi nodded, his expression turning more intense as the thought took root. "Think about it—if the killer wanted to make the murder look like an accident, the preserve was a perfect place. Secluded, quiet, no one around to see anything. But what if the real crime scene is somewhere else entirely?"

Scott's brow furrowed, a mix of skepticism and curiosity tugging at his features. "You're saying they killed him somewhere else and then just dumped the body in the preserve to stage it?"

"Exactly," Javi responded, his voice low, steady. "We've been fixating on the wrong place. The preserve wasn't the scene of the crime. It was just the location they used to hide the body. They knew it would throw us off."

Stiles leaned forward, the theory slowly clicking in his mind, but doubts still lingered. "But why go through all that trouble? If they wanted to hide it, why not just leave him somewhere less obvious? The preserve is public, a place people go all the time."

Javi shrugged, his gaze distant as he considered the bigger picture. "It's perfect because it doesn't look perfect. The scene looks like it was staged, but in a way that makes it feel random. The killer wanted the body found, but not too soon. They needed time to cover their tracks, make sure they were long gone before anyone started asking questions."

The sheriff, who had been silently absorbing the conversation, let out a frustrated breath, his voice finally cutting through the stillness. "This would explain why there weren't any signs of a real struggle. Whoever did this wanted it clean—clinical, even. And the preserve? It was just a controlled environment. The killer had to be meticulous."

Scott's jaw tightened as he processed the implications. "We're looking for a place where the murder actually happened. Somewhere private, somewhere that could hold the truth. And it's not far from here."

Stiles rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "And if that's true, we need to think—who would know this area well enough to use the preserve as a cover, but still pick a place to kill him where there'd be no witnesses?"

Javi's lips twitched into a small, knowing grin. "Exactly. And the more we dig, the more we'll find that this isn't just about the victim—it's about what the killer's trying to hide."

A thick silence fell over the room, everyone lost in thought. The theory was there, a new direction to follow—but it didn't make the hunt any easier. If anything, it just made the search feel even more urgent.

Javi broke the silence, his voice steady and resolute. "Let's go back to the beginning. Recheck everything—locations, timelines, the people involved. The killer made a mistake somewhere, and we're going to find it."

As Javi stood up, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder, the sheriff raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "That bag," he said, his voice low but pointed. "Why is it always with you? Ever since you came back, it's never left your side."

Javi paused for a split second, his fingers tightening around the strap of the bag before he turned to face the sheriff. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Stiles cut him off with a dramatic sigh.

"Hold up! Don't you dare say 'I like to be prepared' again," Stiles interjected, his tone playful but sharp. "That excuse is getting old."

Javi shot him a sidelong look, clearly amused. "You sure? It's a solid one."

Scott, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, chimed in with a smirk. "And don't even think about saying, 'Europe has its perks.' That one's worse."

Javi chuckled, enjoying the banter despite the tension in the air. "Fine, fine," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll just say it's... for emergencies. Happy?"

The sheriff didn't seem convinced, still eyeing the bag with a knowing look. "Emergencies, huh?" he muttered, almost to himself. "One of these days, I'm going to find out exactly what's in that bag."

Javi flashed him a grin and threw a quick look at Scott and Stiles, who were still waiting for a real answer. "Guess you'll have to keep guessing. For now, let's focus on finding our killer."

The sheriff shook his head, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Don't think I won't come back to that, Garcia."

Stiles shot Javi an exaggerated glare. "Seriously, though, the mystery bag is going to kill me before the killer does."

Javi shrugged, his grin never quite reaching his eyes. "Keep wondering."

Scott chuckled, watching the exchange with a hint of amusement. "It's probably full of useless junk."

Javi feigned offense. "Hey, it's not junk. It's called being prepared."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Right, because you definitely need fifty rolls of duct tape in case you come across a broken chair or something."

Javi grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I can't help it. It's a good excuse. Plus, I really do like being prepared. You never know what you might need."

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, guys, we're wasting time. We've got a body to find and a killer to stop."

The lighthearted banter faded as the weight of the investigation settled back in. The mystery of the bag still lingered, but for now, the focus had to return to the case.

The sheriff gave Javi a final lingering glance before nodding. "Scott's right. Let's focus on the case."

Stiles sighed dramatically, flicking a glance at the duffle bag. "Fine, fine. We'll table the bag conversation for now. But mark my words, I will find out what's in there. One day."

Javi chuckled, slinging the bag back over his shoulder. His friends' curiosity was insatiable, but he wasn't worried. Whatever was inside the bag was his secret for now, and it would stay that way—for now. "Sure you will. I'll be waiting."

The sheriff let out a dry laugh, then clicked his tongue in a knowing way. "Alright, boys, here's a favor for you…" He leaned forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Find me a suspect, bring them here, and if Javi's theory holds up, I want you to find the real crime scene."

Stiles's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting the sheriff to throw them into the deep end like this. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, daddy," Stiles said, putting his hand on his forehead as if to check for a fever. "You mean us? You want us to track down a suspect and find a crime scene?"

Javi couldn't help but chuckle at Stiles's reaction. "Father-son duo," he quipped, smirking at the pair.

The sheriff shot Javi a pointed look, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You two think you're up for it?"

Stiles straightened, despite still processing the sudden request. "We've been through worse... right, Scott?" he said, looking at his best friend for confirmation.

Scott gave him a wry grin. "We've definitely survived worse, Stiles. But we'll need to be smart about this."

Javi, still chuckling, added, "And don't forget, you've got me too. I may not be part of the official team, but I can help." He slung the bag over his shoulder again, a purposeful look in his eyes. "I'm in."

The sheriff nodded slowly, his expression serious once more. "I don't want you getting in over your heads, but if you're serious about this, we'll need results. And soon."

Stiles let out a nervous laugh. "Great. You heard him, Scott. We're the dynamic duo now, or maybe the dysfunctional duo—either way, it's happening."

Javi grinned, stepping toward the door. "Let's get to work, boys."

As the trio headed out, the weight of the task at hand settled on them. The sheriff had just set them on a path that could lead to a dangerous confrontation—one they hadn't been expecting but couldn't back down from now.

The sheriff sighed, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Those boys..." He muttered under his breath, his gaze lingering on the door they had just walked through.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. They were good kids, no doubt about it, but sometimes their impulsive nature got the better of them. Still, he couldn't deny the determination in their eyes. They had faced down far more than most kids their age—and managed to make it out alive.

But this time? This time, he wasn't sure how it was all going to end.

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The trio exits the station, the door closing behind them with a soft thud. Stiles, walking ahead, couldn't help but voice his disbelief.

"Can you believe it, Scott? The sheriff is trusting us," Stiles said, his tone a mix of surprise and incredulity. He glanced back at Scott and Javi, his hands thrown out in exasperation. "Us. With finding a suspect. And the real crime scene!"

Javi walked alongside them, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he listened to Stiles.

"Guess we've earned a little trust. Just don't mess it up, McCall," Javi teased, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint.

Scott shot a sidelong glance at Javi, rolling his eyes. "I think we can handle it, Javi. But Stiles is right... this is a lot of responsibility."

Stiles nodded eagerly, tapping his fingers against his leg. "Yeah, a lot. But hey, who better than us, right? We've got the skills."

Javi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Skills, huh? What skills are those? Running into trouble and getting out by the skin of your teeth?"

Stiles grinned, his usual confidence returning. "Exactly! It's an art form."

Scott couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "We'll figure it out. But first, we need to start looking for that real crime scene. Let's go. Time's ticking."

The trio rode in Stiles' Jeep, the sound of the engine humming as they sped down the road. Javi and Scott followed in tandem, the atmosphere tense but familiar.

Stiles fastened his seatbelt, glancing at the others as he spoke with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Okay, guys, I've got several destinations in mind. First, the hospital. Then we hit the crime scene and see if there's anything we missed. And guess what? The next stop after that? The hospital again."

Javi chuckled at Stiles' tone, shaking his head. "Oh, you and your sarcasm, Stiles. Always keeping things... interesting."

Scott sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. "Stiles is Stiles, Javi. You'll get used to it."

Javi nodded with a grin, his gaze flickering to Stiles in the rearview mirror. "Yup, Stiles spikes. Anyway, let's get to it. We've got some digging to do at the hospital."

Stiles grinned, a glint of excitement in his eyes despite the seriousness of their task. "Alright, team. Let's crack this thing wide open."

Scott and Javi exchanged glances, both raising an eyebrow as they looked at Stiles, who was practically bouncing in his seat.

Scott shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Okay, but why are you so excited, huh? We're going to investigate, not go on a date."

Javi chuckled, his tone dry as he added, "Yeah, Stiles. No romance in the air—just murder investigations and dodging suspicious people."

Stiles threw his hands up in mock frustration, grinning. "I'm not excited excited. It's just that we're one step closer to getting answers, okay? And, you know, cracking a case is kind of my thing."

Scott smirked and leaned back against the seat. "Right, just make sure you don't get too carried away. We're not going in there guns blazing."

Javi rolled his eyes but smiled. "Knowing Stiles, guns blazing is exactly what he'll do—just with words."

Stiles grinned, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm. "I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Play it cool? That's never worked for us before."

Scott sighed, half-amused, half-concerned. "Let's just get through this, alright? We'll be fine, as long as we don't do anything stupid."

Javi raised an eyebrow at Stiles' driving. "No promises there."

As they drove, Stiles' gaze shifted to Javi's duffle bag, his curiosity growing with each passing second.

Stiles leaned forward slightly, his tone teasing but with an edge of genuine curiosity. "Okay, I'm starting to get really curious... what if your bag and you get separated, like, even just two meters? Will it explode or something?"

Javi's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching Stiles' playful expression. He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Nah, no explosions, Stiles. I'm not a walking time bomb."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. "So it's not a bomb, then what is it? Because I'm pretty sure that bag's been attached to you like it's got some kind of weird emotional attachment."

Scott, still half-distracted by the road, chimed in, his voice dry. "You know, Stiles, you're acting like it's a secret weapon or something. Maybe it's just... you know, normal stuff?"

Javi grinned, giving Scott a look in the rearview mirror. "Maybe it's just my collection of snack food, you know, survival kit kind of thing."

Stiles smirked, his gaze still locked on the bag. "Sure, survival kit... just don't make us go through airport security with you anytime soon."

Javi laughed, clearly enjoying the teasing. "No promises, McCall. Just focus on the investigation, alright?"

Stiles grinned, leaning back into his seat. "Yeah, yeah, mystery bags and cryptic answers. We're gonna figure it out eventually."

*Javi chuckled, his smirk softening just a bit, but he remained tight-lipped, keeping his secrets close to his chest. Even Stiles and Scott's relentless bantering couldn't shake him from his resolve.*

*Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles' relentless curiosity, but he couldn't help but admit to himself that he was a little curious as well. The duffle bag had been glued to Javi's side since he arrived back in town, and it was impossible not to wonder what was inside.*

Scott spoke up, his tone focused as he glanced at both Stiles and Javi.

"Okay, let's recap. We know the victim didn't die from the hanging itself, it was the asphyxiation caused by the sedative. And someone must've injected him while he was unconscious, then left him there to die. But what doesn't add up is the crime scene. Why the preserve? It doesn't fit. Javi's theory about it being a dumpsite makes more sense. The real crime scene has to be somewhere else."

He paused, giving them both a pointed look.

"We need to figure out who could've had access to Langer, who would've known enough to stage this so perfectly, and why they chose him in the first place."

Javi nodded thoughtfully, but there was still that edge to his demeanor—like he knew something they didn't.

"Exactly," Javi agreed. "And with everything we've found so far, I'm willing to bet we're just scratching the surface."

Stiles sighed dramatically, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Of course we're scratching the surface. When is it ever easy with you guys?"

Scott chuckled, glancing out the window.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough."

The Jeep rumbled as they continued down the road, the weight of the mystery pressing down on them, but the need for answers driving them forward.

Stiles looked at Javi, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"If I'm going to ask you, Sherlock, how can we get Langer's personal information without causing trouble? You seem to have a lot of secrets, and I'm guessing you've got a few tricks up your sleeve."

Javi raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly, but there was a flicker of something more calculating in his eyes.

"Well, Stiles," Javi said, his tone almost playful but with an undercurrent of seriousness. "We could go the legal route—requesting the information through the proper channels. But, let's be real, that would take time, and we don't have the luxury of waiting."

He tapped his fingers on the side of the duffle bag, as if weighing his options.

"I'd say we find someone who owes me a favor. Maybe someone from the town who's got access to records, or we pay a visit to the right people in the system. But you didn't hear that from me."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, glancing at Scott, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"Great. So, basically, we're playing dirty. Just what I needed."

Javi chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment of tension.

"Sometimes, Stiles, you've got to bend the rules to get things done."

Scott glanced between the two, shaking his head.

"Let's just hope this doesn't come back to bite us."

Stiles' eyes lit up, and a grin stretched across his face, clearly pleased with his own idea.

"Speaking of playing dirty, are you guys forgetting something? I'm a hacker myself!" He puffed out his chest, his usual confidence radiating. "I can get us Langer's personal info in no time. No need for favors or shady deals. Just some quick key strokes, and we're in."

Javi raised an eyebrow, looking impressed but skeptical.

"Okay, hacker boy, I'm intrigued. But I hope you're not planning on hacking into the FBI or something. We need to keep this low profile."

Stiles waved his hand dismissively, clearly not worried about the potential consequences.

"Low profile? Please, Javi. You're talking to a pro. I know my limits, and this is nothing." He winked, clearly enjoying the moment. "Besides, who else could do this better than me? No one."

Scott let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Just make sure we don't end up on a watchlist, Stiles."

Stiles grinned even wider, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with his excitement.

"Don't worry, McCall. I've got this covered. Let's just get to the hospital, and then I'll work my magic."

Javi chuckled, shaking his head, clearly amused by Stiles' overconfidence.

"Alright, then. Lead the way, hacker extraordinaire."

As Stiles drove, he suddenly swerved the jeep into a different direction, veering away from the hospital.

Scott glanced over at him, furrowing his brow. "Wait, where are we going? This isn't the way to the hospital."

Stiles shot them a quick, mischievous grin. "Yeah, I know. We're not going to the hospital first. We're making a quick detour."

Javi raised an eyebrow, a bit confused but intrigued. "Detour? To where?"

Stiles didn't answer right away, just focusing on the road as he navigated the turns with his usual reckless driving style. He turned the jeep into the familiar driveway of the Stilinski house, the place that had always felt like home for both him and Scott.

He parked the jeep and killed the engine, then looked over at the two of them. "Home sweet home. I figured we might need a bit more... comfort for the hacking operation. Besides, it's not like we can do anything too shady out in the open."

Scott blinked, a bit thrown off. "Wait, you're going to hack from here?"

Stiles shrugged, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his laptop from the back seat. "Yup. Got better Wi-Fi, and, you know, Dad won't be around to catch us."

Javi laughed, shaking his head as he followed Stiles out of the jeep. "I see. So, your house is the new base of operations? Not what I expected."

Stiles grinned, a bit of his usual charm coming through. "Well, it's either this or we go to the creepy, abandoned warehouse for some serious espionage vibes. Besides, my dad's got a stash of snacks in the kitchen. And we all know that's crucial for a successful operation."

Javi smirked as they walked inside. "Alright, then. Let's see what kind of intel you can dig up, Stiles."

Scott was still processing the detour but followed them inside, clearly ready to get things rolling. "Let's just hope it's enough to get us a lead."

The three of them settled into the living room, and as Stiles opened his laptop, he quickly got to work. A moment of silence settled over the room, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of keys.

Javi leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. "This better not take long. We've got a mystery to solve."

Stiles glanced up from his screen, his fingers still flying over the keyboard. "Trust me, we'll have what we need. Just give me a minute."

Stiles, still focused on the screen, let out a muttered curse under his breath as his fingers flew across the keyboard. He wasn't exactly worried about time; he knew it'd take a bit to dig into Langer's life. But the tension in the room was palpable, and he couldn't help but sense the silent anticipation from both Scott and Javi.

Scott leaned back against the wall, trying to get a read on Stiles, but all he could see was the back of his friend's head as he furiously typed away. He whispered over to Javi, his voice low and uncertain.

"What do you think he's up to?"

Javi chuckled softly, trying to keep his own voice down.

"Honestly? I have no clue. But knowing Stiles, it's probably something illegal and borderline insane."

Scott couldn't help but laugh quietly, glancing over at Stiles, who seemed completely absorbed in his task. His fingers moved at lightning speed, his eyes glued to the screen, and his muttering only added to the sense of chaos in the room.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Scott said, smirking. "He doesn't exactly play by the rules."

Javi's lips curled into a grin, leaning back on the couch with a relaxed but observant air.

"Neither of us did."

Scott's grin deepened, his mind clicking into place as he recognized the unspoken bond between the three of them. They were all in this together—no rules, no boundaries, and maybe even no turning back at this point.

"I guess we're all cut from the same cloth, aren't we?" Scott said with a knowing look, his voice quieter now, almost reflective.

Javi's grin grew a little wider as he glanced over at Scott.

"You could say that. Though, I'd bet Stiles takes it to a whole new level."

Scott nodded, the silent understanding between them growing. They had each walked their own dark roads, but now, they were walking them together. Whatever came next, they knew it would take more than just the usual tricks to unravel this mystery.

The hum of Stiles' laptop continued in the background as the tension in the room thickened, everyone waiting for the next move.

Stiles let out an excited whoop, his fingers stopping for a second as he raised his arms in triumph.

"Gotcha! Hospital database, right where I wanted it!"

Scott and Javi leaned in, their eyes fixed on the screen as Stiles scrolled through the records. They watched intently as the name 'Langer, David' appeared on the screen, but as the details filled in, the air grew thick with confusion

Scott frowned, his gaze shifting from the screen to Stiles.

"Wait, hold up. This is… this doesn't make sense."

Stiles' face contorted in frustration as he scanned the details.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. It's clean—nothing unusual. No past injuries, no previous visits failed surgery or anything like that and of course no red flags as a surgeon. The guy's record is as healthy as a horse."

Javi leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied the screen, a sense of unease creeping into his chest.

"So, no medical history. That doesn't add up. The sedative wasn't some random shot—it had to have been deliberate. But if he's perfectly healthy, why target him?"

Stiles slapped the side of his laptop in frustration.

"Exactly. No major injuries, no signs of health issues, nothing even remotely suspicious." He muttered under his breath, "This is weird."

Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"So if the hospital record is clean, what's the connection here? Who would want him dead, and why? It doesn't make sense."

Javi's eyes narrowed, thinking hard. There had to be more to this. It was clear the victim's health record didn't line up with the method of his death. Something was missing.

"Maybe it's not about the victim's health at all. Maybe we're looking in the wrong place."

Stiles sighed, spinning his chair around to face them.

"Great, more mysteries. Just what I needed."

Scott exchanged a glance with Javi, both sensing the deeper problem now.

"Whatever it is, we're not done yet."

The room fell quiet as the three of them stared at the screen, the mystery deepening with every passing second. Langer's clean record was just the beginning—there was something bigger at play, and they had no choice but to keep digging.

The phone rang once, twice, then crackled to life. Sheriff Stilinski's voice came through, sounding weary, as if the weight of the case had taken its toll.

"Hello, boys. The results are in. Time of death was between 7 and 9 AM. Cause of death was asphyxiation—looks like a pillow or cloth was used to suffocate him. The bruises on his torso? Those came from when he was hung. And yes, the sedative was active at the time of the crime."

There was a pause before the sheriff's voice darkened, the gravity of the situation settling in.

"And here's the weird part… The coroner thinks this looks like the work of someone with medical knowledge. This wasn't just a random act of violence. Whoever did this had the expertise to carry it out with precision."

Stiles, Scott, and Javi exchanged glances, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together with unsettling precision.

Stiles spoke first, his voice low, frustration and realization in equal measure. "So, not just some random murderer. This person's a professional. That explains the sedative, the careful asphyxiation... they knew how to make sure Langer suffered and died the way they wanted."

Scott's face hardened, his jaw tightening with each revelation. "Someone who knew how to avoid mistakes. Someone who planned this carefully."

Javi crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the phone as if it could somehow provide more answers. "Medical knowledge... Changes everything, just like we expected. This isn't just about a grudge or a random killing. Whoever did this knew how to cover their tracks and make it look like an accident."

The sheriff's voice cut through the growing tension. "Yeah, well, this doesn't make it any easier. I need you boys to stay sharp. Whatever this is, it's deeper than we thought."

Stiles rubbed his temples, sinking back in his chair, the weight of the situation settling in. "Great. So now we're dealing with a killer who's not only smart but knows their anatomy. This just got a lot more complicated."

Javi's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as the pieces clicked into place. "We're getting closer to the truth, but it's still a long road ahead. We need to figure out who has both the motive and the skills to pull this off."

Scott exhaled sharply, determination returning to his features. "Let's get to work. We're not stopping until we find out who did this."

Sheriff Stilinski spoke up again. "Have you found the real crime scene? Got any suspects?"

Stiles paused, glancing at Scott and Javi before responding into the phone.

"Not yet, Sheriff. We're still working on it. We found Langer's medical records, but they didn't give us much. It's like the guy was in perfect health—no signs of any previous issues that could have led to this. We did dig into the hospital database, but there's nothing that points us in the right direction yet."

Scott added in, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of frustration.

"We're still trying to figure out the real crime scene. The preserve might've been a place to dump the body, but we're not sure yet. We're putting the pieces together, but nothing's clicking fully."

Javi, looking thoughtfully at the others, finally spoke up, his tone low but firm.

"Whoever did this is either a genius or a complete psychopath. They staged the scene perfectly, and the medical knowledge they used is no accident. It's too precise, too deliberate. This wasn't random—someone went out of their way to cover their tracks. It's like they knew exactly how to make us question everything."

The sheriff sighed on the other end of the line, his voice serious.

"Alright. Keep pushing, but don't get reckless. If you find anything, let me know immediately. We can't afford to miss anything. And be careful—whoever did this is playing a dangerous game."

Stiles groaned but nodded, even though the sheriff couldn't see it.

"Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, Sheriff. We'll keep at it."

There was a brief pause before the sheriff's voice came through again, softer this time.

"Just remember, I trust you boys. Don't let it get to you."

Stiles' expression softened a bit, though the pressure was still heavy.

"Thanks, Sheriff. We won't let you down."

With a final click, the call ended. The room fell silent for a moment, each of them processing the weight of the task ahead.

Javi broke the silence first, his voice carrying the determination they all felt.

"We're not giving up. We'll find the answers."

Scott nodded firmly, ready to push forward.

"Let's do this."

And with that, they were back on track, one step closer to uncovering the truth—but with the chilling realization that the more they uncovered, the darker it seemed to get.

Stiles' grin widened as he tapped the screen. "Guys, I got something. Security footage from some street cams—guess where our victim was headed the night before he died?"

Scott leaned in, eyes narrowing at the screen. "Where?"

Stiles smirked, dragging the cursor to zoom in on the video. "A movie theater. Dr. Langer was on his way there, but here's the kicker—he wasn't alone. Someone got into his car with him, and then they drove off together."

Javi crossed his arms, his sharp gaze locked onto the screen. "So, he wasn't just running errands or going home. He met up with someone. Question is—who?"

Scott frowned, his instincts kicking in. "Can you get a better look at the other person?"

Stiles exhaled, clicking a few buttons. "I'm working on it. The angle sucks, but give me a sec... Enhancing the frame might give us something."

Javi leaned forward, eyes flickering between the footage and Stiles' screen. "Whoever they are, they could be the last person to see him alive. If we can ID them, we might just have our first real suspect."

Scott nodded, his expression tense. "Then let's find out who they are."

Stiles cracked his knuckles, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Alright, looks like I need to hack into more street cams. This is actually kinda exciting—it's firing me up."

Scott shot him a look. "Stiles, we're investigating a murder, not playing some hacking mini-game."

Stiles smirked, eyes still locked on the screen. "Hey, just because it's illegal and morally questionable doesn't mean I can't enjoy being good at it."

Javi chuckled, leaning against the desk. "Yeah, yeah, just don't get us arrested, genius."

Stiles scoffed. "Please, as if they could catch me." He kept typing, determination in his eyes. "Now, let's see where Langer and his mystery passenger went next…"

Stiles' eyes widened as the footage played on his screen. "Okay, so Langer and our mystery driver parked near the movie theater… but they didn't stay there long."

Scott leaned in, his brows furrowing. "Where did they go?"

*Stiles fast-forwarded the footage, his excitement turning into something more serious. "After a while, they drove off—straight into the woods." He pointed at the timestamp. "And guess what? The timing lines up perfectly with the estimated time of death."

Javi's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Wait, Stiles—can you change the camera angle? I need to see more of the parking lot before they left."

Stiles smirked, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Already on it." He switched to another street camera, rewinding the footage and enhancing the view.

The new angle loaded, and suddenly, the pieces fell into place.

Scott inhaled sharply. "No way…"

On the screen, they watched as Dr. Langer sat in the driver's seat, unaware of the danger beside him. The passenger—a woman in a nurse's uniform—moved swiftly, pressing a pillow over his face. Langer struggled, but within moments, he went still.

Javi clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "She killed him right there. It wasn't a kidnapping—it was an execution."

Stiles swallowed hard, pressing play as the footage continued.

After ensuring Langer was lifeless, the woman calmly slid into the driver's seat, adjusted the rearview mirror, and drove away. The next camera caught her heading straight into the woods.

Scott's voice was low, tense. "She didn't just dump the body—she staged it. Made it look like something it wasn't."

The feed switched to the last available camera, showing the victim's car parked deep in the woods. The woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and with eerie ease, loaded Langer's lifeless body inside before disappearing into the trees.

Stiles exhaled, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "So our killer isn't just some random psycho. She's precise. She knew what she was doing."

Javi nodded, his voice grim. "And if she's a nurse… she has access. To sedatives. To patients. To people like Langer."

Scott met their gazes, his eyes burning with determination. "Then we need to find out who she is—before she does this again."

Stiles sighed, closing the laptop with a soft click. "That's all I can do—for now."

He leaned back, rubbing his eyes, the weight of their discovery settling in.

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay, we know the suspect is a nurse—but the real question is... who?"

Javi smirked, his eyes glinting with determination. "There's only one way to find out. She's a nurse, which means she's hiding in plain sight at the hospital—right under everyone's noses. But here's the bad news… we have to consider every nurse a suspect."

He glanced at Scott, his smirk fading slightly. "And that includes your mom."

Stiles pulled out his phone, quickly dialing his dad. "Wait a minute—I need to fill him in."

Scott and Javi exchanged glances as Stiles paced, waiting for the call to connect. After a few rings, the sheriff's weary voice came through the line.

"Stiles, please tell me you have something."

"Oh, we have something, alright," Stiles said, his tone edged with excitement. "Turns out our killer isn't just some random psycho. It's a nurse, Dad. We got her on camera—she smothered Dr. Langer with a pillow before driving his body out to the woods."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh. "A nurse? You're sure?"

"Positive. Which means we need to go through the hospital staff, find out who was working that night, and track down Langer's car. If we can find it, we'll have our real crime scene."

The sheriff grumbled something under his breath before responding. "Fine. But you boys stay out of trouble. I'll pull the hospital records and meet you there."

"No promises, Dad." Stiles smirked.

He turned to Scott and Javi, eyes alight with adrenaline. "Alright, gentlemen, let's go catch a killer."

The sheriff sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "This time, I'm coming with you."

Stiles blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—what? You're actually coming along?"

"You think I'm letting the three of you run around chasing a murderer without backup?" The sheriff's tone left no room for argument. "I'll meet you at the hospital. And don't do anything reckless until I get there."

Stiles shot a look at Scott and Javi, then grinned. "Well, there goes half the fun."

"Stiles," Scott warned.

"Fine, fine," Stiles muttered. "See you soon, Dad."

He hung up and clapped his hands together. "Alright, change of plans! We've got an official chaperone. Let's head to the hospital and start narrowing down our suspects before he gets there and ruins all the fun."

Javi smirked, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder as he headed for the Jeep. "Let's just hope our nurse doesn't decide to disappear before we get there."

Scott's expression darkened as he finally spoke up, his voice quieter than usual. "Guys… are we really considering my mom as a suspect?"

The weight of the question settled over them like a heavy fog. Stiles and Javi exchanged glances, neither wanting to be the one to answer first.

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Scott, no one wants to believe that. But right now, we have to look at every nurse in that hospital, no exceptions. Including your mom."

Javi nodded, his tone more careful than usual. "It's not about accusing her, Scott. It's about ruling people out. If she's innocent—and she probably is—then we just move on. But if we ignore possibilities just because they're uncomfortable, we might miss the real killer."

Scott clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with the thought, but after a moment, he exhaled sharply and nodded. "Okay… Let's just get this over with."

Stiles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before hopping into the Jeep. "Don't worry, dude. If your mom was the killer, she would've grounded you by now just to keep you from investigating."

Scott let out a small, reluctant chuckle, shaking his head as he followed them into the car. As much as he hated it, they had a job to do—and the truth wasn't going to wait.

As the Jeep rumbled to life, the weight of their discovery hung in the air. The truth was inching closer, but with it came more questions—more doubts. The image of the nurse in the footage, the cold and calculated murder, and the grim possibility that someone in the hospital was responsible—it was all leading them down a path none of them were prepared for.

Scott stared out the window, his thoughts clouded. Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, already running through a hundred different theories in his head. Javi sat quietly in the back, eyes sharp, mind working through the puzzle piece by piece.

They had a suspect. They had a crime scene. Now, they just had to find the truth before the killer found them first.

To be continued…