Sarah's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, grounding me back in the present. "Where do you want to start this investigation?" she asked, her tone business-like yet tinged with a hint of curiosity.

I rose from the shabby chair that had become too familiar over the years, its worn fabric a testament to the countless hours spent pondering over cases. Moving towards the wall behind me, I eyed the single piece of butcher's paper that I had stuck there amidst a collage of notes, pictures, and files – a makeshift tapestry of investigation.

"I've been putting a bit of a timeline together," I said, my voice tinged with thoughtfulness. The timeline was a crude yet necessary tool, a way to visually piece together the fragmented events as we understood them.

"On that?" Sarah's question came with a raised eyebrow, her gaze shifting between me and the butcher's paper.

"What?" I shrugged nonchalantly, feeling a slight defensive edge creep into my voice. "I wanted to get my thoughts out before they disappeared." In this line of work, every detail mattered, and the fear of losing a crucial piece of information was always lurking in the back of my mind.

"Oh, come on, Senior Detective," Sarah replied, her grin spreading across her face. Her teasing tone was familiar, a welcome respite in the midst of tension. "Give yourself a little more credit."

I couldn't help but return her smile, feeling a momentary lift from the growing burden on my shoulders. Sarah's light-hearted humour was like a beacon in the often murky waters of police work. Despite the gravity of our current case, her presence brought a semblance of normalcy, a reminder of the world outside these walls.

Our relationship, whatever it might be called, was an enigma even to me. We spent countless hours together, both in the precinct and out, yet there was an unspoken agreement between us. Neither of us had rushed to define what we were, and honestly, that worked for me. In a job where uncertainties were the only certainty, the undefined nature of our relationship was oddly comforting. It was one less pressure to contend with, one less expectation to meet.

"So, what have you timelined then?" Sarah's question brought me back to the task at hand, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"Not a lot," I confessed, my gaze returning to the wall that had become a makeshift canvas for the investigation. The array of events, crudely represented, seemed almost juvenile in their simplicity. "We know that this," I said, pointing to a rudimentary stick figure I'd drawn. It was skinny-headed, armless, more a child's doodle than anything else. "Was the last time Louise heard from her brother." The figure stood alone, a solitary marker in a timeline that felt increasingly complex.

"This second figure, further along, is when she sent Kain to check on them." I traced my finger along an imaginary line to another stick figure, this one slightly closer to the present marker on my timeline.

"And the third one?" Sarah's voice pulled me further along the timeline.

"That's Louise coming to visit us today," I answered, slightly surprised that it wasn't immediately obvious. Sure, my artistic skills were lacking, but the context, I thought, should have filled in the gaps.

"Of course," Sarah said, a hint of embarrassment colouring her voice as she caught on.

I paused, my mind whirling with the possibilities that lay ahead. Scenarios, each with its own set of outcomes and implications, raced through my head. Despite my less-than-stellar drawing skills, my analytical abilities were sharp. It was my capacity to juggle multiple theories, to sift through the noise and find the signal, that had propelled me to my current position. My competence, I reassured myself, was not in question.

"We should start by checking their bank accounts," I decided abruptly. It was a starting point, a way to anchor the investigation in something concrete. With that thought, I pivoted on my heels and set off to initiate the process. No further words were necessary; the situation urged me forward, my mind already racing ahead to the next steps, to the untangling of this intricate web we found ourselves in.

Having gained access to both Jamie and Kain's financial records, a feat made more challenging by the less-than-cooperative bank manager, Sarah and I divided the task. She delved into Jamie's accounts, her eyes scanning each line with precision, while I began combing through Kain's records. I quickly realised that Kain's financial activity was unremarkable. He still lived at home, and his bank records reflected a routine of a young man not yet burdened by major financial responsibilities. Fuel consumption, occasional grocery purchases, and a few personal indulgences - nothing that raised any red flags. However, one detail stood out starkly: his account had been dormant since the night before Louise claimed she had sent him to check on Jamie.

I glanced across the table at Sarah, feeling a mix of frustration and concern. Her attention was entirely absorbed by Jamie's bank statements, her forehead creased in concentration. "Well, that was a fruitless exercise," I sighed, leaning back in my chair. The lack of any significant findings in Kain's financial records only deepened the mystery.

Sarah continued her meticulous examination, seemingly unfazed by my comment. I pressed on, sharing my thoughts aloud, "Unless Kain has additional investments and finances secretly stashed elsewhere, which I highly doubt given how generous his parents seem to be, he has very simple spending habits and, frankly, not much money. There's no indication that he purchased plane tickets or jumped on the ferry to Melbourne. But–"

At that moment, Sarah's head snapped up, her focus instantly shifting to me. "But?" she queried, her tone sharp with interest.

"Looks like Kain is a fan of Candy Crush. There are a few small transactions from the game at around 11:00 P.M. on the night before he visited Jamie, but I don't see how that's going to help us determine what happened after he saw Jamie. If he ever did see him, that is." I leaned back, my hands intertwined behind my head, feeling the weight of unanswered questions.

"You don’t think he did?" Sarah’s question cut through my thoughts, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and skepticism.

"I’m not sure yet," I admitted, my eyes drifting towards the ceiling as I contemplated the myriad possibilities. The uncertainty was gnawing at me, each unturned stone in this investigation adding to the growing sense of unease.

I sat in contemplative silence, lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, while Sarah finished poring over Jamie's accounts. The sound of rustling papers filled the air, a rhythmic accompaniment to the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Suddenly, Sarah broke the silence with a hint of triumph in her voice. "Well, I might have something." She reached the end of the bank statements and thrust the final piece of paper towards me. "There. Look at the last transaction," she urged, her finger jabbing at a specific line on the page.

I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the details. "Possibly," I murmured, nodding slightly, though skepticism still clouded my judgment.

"Possibly?" Sarah echoed, her voice rising in disbelief. "Only possibly? This is huge!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm a sharp contrast to my cautious skepticism.

"But it doesn't prove anything or give us any real information," I pointed out, trying to temper her excitement with a dose of reality.

"He totally drained his bank account in a single transaction three days ago," Sarah countered, her eyes locked on mine, conveying the gravity of her discovery. "Louise is clearly justified in suspecting some sort of foul play."

Inside, I could feel a simmering frustration. Sarah was a competent detective, no question, but her eagerness sometimes overshadowed the need for thorough analysis. In this line of work, jumping to conclusions could be a dangerous game. It was critical to consider all avenues, to follow the evidence meticulously, not to let it be swayed by personal biases or hasty judgments.

"I reckon that Luke Smith killed Jamie, then Kain caught him covering up the body, so Luke killed him, too," Sarah ventured, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and certainty. Her enthusiasm was understandable; this could potentially be her first major homicide investigation. But her haste in drawing conclusions was concerning. And my own headache, throbbing relentlessly, wasn't helping me guide her with the patience I usually mustered.

"Sarah!" I snapped, more harshly than I intended. The urgency to temper her rush to judgment outweighed my usual restraint.

At my outburst, Sarah fell silent. I realised then that I had risen from my chair, standing now in the middle of the office, the focus of surrounding attention. The sudden quiet felt heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of office activity. I felt the weight of the gazes upon me, the unspoken question in their eyes about my reaction.

I met their stares, unflinching, a firm resolve settling within me. This was more than just maintaining authority; it was about demonstrating the rigour and responsibility that my role as a senior detective demanded. I had earned my rank, not just through years of service but through countless hours of careful analysis, measured decisions, and the ability to keep a level head even in the most challenging of circumstances. And now I was determined to prove that I deserved my title.

As I stood there, surrounded by the familiar clutter of the office, my resolve solidified to meticulously piecing together a puzzle that seemed to grow more complex by the minute. My mind churned through the sparse information we had, attempting to form a cohesive narrative from the disjointed facts.

The evidence, as sparse as it was, could potentially align with Luke's – or rather, Louise's interpretation of Luke's – version of events. But that was speculative at best until we got Luke's own account. Jamie's financial moves were intriguing: emptying his savings, drawing out thousands from his credit card before Kain was supposed to visit him. If Jamie had that much cash on hand, it suggested he might be planning to lay low locally, avoiding detection and perhaps sidestepping his troubled relationship with Luke. His car, left behind yet easily retrievable, hinted at the possibility that he hadn't ventured far.

But the question that nagged at me was: why didn't Jamie take his car right away? If Luke's story about their relationship woes and Jamie’s supposed trip to Melbourne held any truth, then Jamie's actions seemed designed to convince Luke of his departure, buying him time to manage his affairs undisturbed. It was a clever ruse if true, but it raised more questions than it answered.

Then there was Kain. How did he fit into this puzzle? Was he an unwitting participant, or was he actively aiding Jamie in some way?

"Aha!" The exclamation slipped from my lips unintentionally, a product of the gears turning in my head. I hardly noticed I'd spoken aloud until Sarah's response brought me back to the present.

"What?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Ignoring her question momentarily, I continued to unravel the threads in my mind. Louise had mentioned Kain taking his ute, which was now also missing. It clicked in place. If Kain was assisting Jamie, then Jamie wouldn't need his own car immediately. They could use Kain's ute for whatever they were planning.

"Sarah," I finally addressed her, my voice firm with newfound clarity. "If we can find Kain, he'll lead us straight to Jamie."

"Are you sure?" Her skepticism was evident, but I couldn't blame her. The pieces of this puzzle were fitting together in a pattern that only became clear after connecting the dots of years of experience.

"Jamie has all the skills to go off the grid if he wants to. That'll make him hard to pin down on our own. We need Kain. He's the one who can lead us to Jamie." As I spoke, a realisation dawned on me, a slight slip in my usually guarded demeanour. I had revealed more about Jamie than I should have known from the information gathered today. I quickly redirected the conversation, hoping Sarah hadn't caught on to my inadvertent slip.

"I don't think you're going to find anything, but if Jamie has that much cash, he could have purchased plane tickets without leaving a record. I want you to follow up with both the Hobart and Launceston airports to check whether either Jamie or Kain have boarded any flights in the last five days."

"Okay," she replied, her tone professional, yet I sensed a flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

"And when you're done with that, given Kain's ute is missing, go and check with the ferry service. There's a chance they could have made it to the mainland."

"I'm on it," Sarah responded, her nod filled with the enthusiasm that was a hallmark of her approach to detective work. "And what are you going to do?"

I paused for a moment, considering my next move. "I'm going to visit Luke Smith."

Sarah looked hurt, her expression shifting. "But—"

"Time is of the essence here, Sarah," I interjected, cutting her off. Her disappointment was palpable, but necessary decisions often came with a personal cost. "If my hunch is wrong and you're closer to the mark, then Jamie and Kain are in danger and we have to divide and conquer."

I knew Sarah well enough to anticipate her response. We usually conducted suspect interviews together, a routine that had become almost second nature. But this case was different, it demanded a split approach. Each lead, no matter how thin, needed to be pursued with diligence and urgency.

As I watched Sarah gather her materials, a sense of responsibility weighed heavily on me. Her readiness to dive into the investigation was evident, but my decision to keep her at arm's length from my thoughts about Jamie gnawed at my conscience. In this line of work, trust and transparency within a team were crucial, yet there were moments when instincts guided me down a solitary path. This was one of those moments.

I was still wrestling with the idea of any immediate danger to Jamie and Kain. The pieces of the puzzle hadn't yet aligned to form a clear picture of threat, but the unknowns were too significant to ignore. I needed some time alone, away from the buzz of the station, to process and reflect. My head was still throbbing from the night before, a relentless reminder of my own fallibility. I couldn't afford to let my guard down, not when every detail, every word could mean the difference between a breakthrough and a dead end.

In assigning tasks to Sarah, I ensured she would be engaged, her focus diverted. It was a tactical move, designed to give me the space I needed without arousing suspicion or concern. I trusted her capabilities, but in my current state, I couldn't risk revealing more than necessary. The tasks would keep her busy, and more importantly, safe.

"Fine," Sarah responded, her tone indicating acceptance but not without a hint of resignation. I could sense her desire to delve deeper, to be more involved, but she understood the necessity of our divided approach.

I let out a barely audible sigh of relief as I collected my thoughts. It was time to confront Luke Smith, to peel back the layers of his story and see what truths lay beneath. My coat felt heavy on my shoulders as I donned it, a physical manifestation of the burden of the investigation.

Right then, Mr. Smith, I thought determinedly, my steps quickening as I made my way out of the station. A sense of purpose leading me forward. It was time for a candid conversation with Luke, time to gather the missing pieces of this increasingly complex puzzle. The way he responded, the nuances in his expressions and words, could unlock the next phase of our investigation. This wasn't just about following protocol; it was about intuition, about reading between the lines to uncover the hidden truths. And I was ready to face whatever that entailed.