Chapter 2 — The Night Intrusion

Callum

Detective Callum Vexley stood in the rain, the collar of his coat turned up against the chill. Streetlights cast muted halos on the slick pavement, and the mist softened the city’s harsh edges. Ahead of him, the small flower shop seemed to glow with a quiet resilience, its wooden sign—“Ardent Blooms”—swinging on its hinges, painted vines curling around the letters. Through the jagged hole in the front window, the shop’s warm light spilled out, illuminating the raindrops clinging to the shards of broken glass.

“This isn’t your usual break-in, Callum,” Detective Kane muttered beside him, his breath rising in small clouds. He sipped from his battered metal coffee cup, the brim steaming against the cold night air. His trench coat was frayed and soaked at the edges, but he seemed unbothered by the discomfort.

Callum’s steel-blue eyes swept the scene with practiced precision. Yellow tape cordoned off the perimeter, and uniformed officers cataloged evidence under the relentless drizzle. The lock on the door was intact, but scattered shards of glass reflected the lamplight like fragments of a shattered reflection. A trail of faint muddy footprints led from the threshold into the shop, their crisp edges unblurred by the rain.

He crouched near the entrance, his gloved fingers skimming the damp ground. “Fresh,” he said, his voice clipped and thoughtful. “The rain hasn’t touched them yet. Whoever it was, they didn’t linger.”

Kane grunted, folding his arms across his chest. “Quick in, quick out. But what’s worth stealing in a flower shop? A bouquet of roses?”

Callum didn’t answer. He stepped forward and eased the door open, the small bell above it letting out a soft, dissonant chime. Inside, the sharp metallic tang of rain was replaced by a heady symphony of lavender, eucalyptus, and roses. The scents were almost overwhelming, like walking into a memory too vivid to escape. Bouquets overflowed from vintage vases, their colors spilling across the pale wooden counters. String lights coiled above, casting the space in a golden glow that felt at odds with the broken glass underfoot.

At the back of the shop, a petite woman swept the floor in deliberate, measured strokes. Her auburn hair, tied in a loose braid, fell over one shoulder, and the freckles on her cheeks stood out against her pale complexion. She moved with an air of calm control, though Callum caught the tension in the stiffness of her shoulders and the way her hands tightened around the broom handle.

“Miss Ardent?” His voice, low and steady, cut through the quiet.

She started slightly, her hazel eyes lifting to meet his. For a heartbeat, she gripped the broom as though it might anchor her, but then she exhaled, loosening her hold. “Yes,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady.

“I’m Detective Vexley,” Callum said, gesturing toward Kane, who lingered near the doorway. “This is Detective Kane. We’re here to investigate the break-in.”

Lily’s gaze flicked to the broken window, then to the neat pile of glass at her feet. “It’s strange,” she said, brushing a stray petal off the counter beside her. “They didn’t take anything. At least… nothing valuable.”

Callum tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Setting the broom aside, Lily moved to a wooden counter. Her movements were poised, but Callum noticed the faint tremor in her fingers as she rifled through papers and petals. Finally, she retrieved a small, leather-bound ledger with a floral-embossed cover. Her hand lingered on it for a moment before she held it out to him. “This is my mother’s memory ledger. It’s full of her notes—special orders, sketches, little things she wanted to remember. It was here yesterday. Now, it’s gone.”

Callum accepted the ledger, its weight surprising in his hand. Faint traces of pressed petals lingered on the worn pages, their scent subtle but distinct. He ran his thumb over the embossed blooms on the cover, their faded patterns delicate against his glove. “You’re sure it was here?” he asked, his tone measured.

“Yes.” She gestured to a wooden drawer beneath the counter. “I always keep it there. It’s not valuable to anyone else. It’s just…” Her voice faltered, catching in her throat. “…personal.”

Kane’s voice broke the silence, his tone dry. “So someone breaks in, skips the cash register, and walks off with a florist’s old book. They’re either sentimental, or there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Callum didn’t respond immediately. His gaze swept the shop, absorbing the meticulous order of the bouquets, the tools arranged neatly on the workbench. Everything here was intentional, each detail reflecting the care of someone deeply connected to this space. This wasn’t just a shop—it was a sanctuary.

“Did anything unusual happen before this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as they returned to Lily.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing over a loose petal. “There was… a man. He came in yesterday afternoon. He didn’t buy anything—just looked around and left.” Her voice softened. “At the time, I thought he was just passing through. But the way he looked… it made me uneasy.”

Callum straightened, his focus sharpening. “What did he look like?”

“Tall. Dark hair. He wore a brown coat, I think.” She glanced toward the window. “He didn’t seem interested in the flowers. It was like… he was searching for something.”

Kane jotted notes in his weathered notebook, his brow furrowed. “Sounds like someone we should keep an eye out for.”

Callum stepped closer to the drawer Lily had indicated. A faint smudge marked the edge of the wood—dark, precise, deliberate. He gestured toward it. “Did you see this before?”

Lily shook her head, her expression tightening. “No. I…” She faltered, steadying herself against the counter. “I didn’t notice it earlier.”

Callum’s mind raced, piecing together the muddy footprints, the untouched lock, the smudge on the drawer. Every detail pointed to a premeditated act. Whoever had broken in had known exactly what they were looking for.

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice quieter now, “the things we think are insignificant hold meaning to others.”

Lily’s hazel eyes held his, her composure wavering just enough for him to glimpse the vulnerability beneath. The stiffness in her posture softened slightly, though her hands remained poised on the counter, as though she needed its solidity.

Callum turned to Kane. “We’ll need to examine the perimeter again.” He glanced back toward Lily. “Don’t try to clean up too much. We’ll want to take a closer look at everything.”

She nodded, though her unease lingered. “I just don’t understand why anyone would want that ledger. It’s like…” She hesitated, then continued softly, “A garden of memories. Each page holds a piece of her life. I don’t know what someone else could see in it.”

Her words settled over the room, quiet but poignant. Callum’s grip on the ledger tightened slightly before he turned and headed for the door, the faint chiming of the bell punctuating his exit. Outside, the rain had intensified, drumming against the pavement in uneven rhythms. Kane gave him a sidelong glance as they stepped under the awning.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” Kane asked, his tone laced with dry humor.

“That this wasn’t random.” Callum’s voice was clipped, his gaze fixed on the warm light spilling from the shop window onto the wet sidewalk. “They knew what they wanted. The question is… why?”

Kane chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with this one, Vexley.”

Callum didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the shop’s glowing interior for a moment longer, his thoughts tangling like vines in the rain. Somewhere in the depths of this tangled city, an answer waited. And Callum intended to find it—no matter how deep he had to dig.