Chapter 2: The Reluctant Apprentice

The rain had not let up by the time Bleddyn and Bernyce reached the scene of the last girl’s disappearance. A quiet street in a forgotten part of the city, it felt deserted even in daylight. The shadows stretched long across the cobblestones, adding a sense of foreboding to the already grim task ahead.

Bleddyn moved with precision, scanning the area with eyes trained to notice every detail. Bernyce followed closely behind, her shoes splashing in shallow puddles as she tried to keep up. She had expected to feel out of place, but the reality of standing on the ground where a young girl had vanished into thin air was overwhelming.

“Do you often come to crime scenes like this?” Bernyce asked, breaking the silence.

Bleddyn didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was locked on a nearby lamppost, where a faint mark had caught his eye. He crouched down, inspecting it carefully. “This isn’t a crime scene anymore,” he said eventually. “But yes, I visit places like this. The location is the first witness. It tells you things that people can’t.”

Bernyce watched as Bleddyn ran his fingers over the mark, his focus unbroken. She was both impressed and unsettled by his intensity. It was as if the world around him didn’t exist, only the case. Only the clues. She had expected him to be smart, but this level of detachment from everything else, including her, was harder to process than she had anticipated.

“Did they find anything when the police first investigated?” Bernyce asked, trying to sound more competent than she felt.

“Nothing useful,” Bleddyn replied, still not looking at her. “The police always miss the subtleties. They see things as they are, not as they could be.”

Bernyce raised an eyebrow. “You mean they look but don’t see.”

Bleddyn’s head turned toward her, his eyes narrowing in thought. He seemed to appreciate her phrasing, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “Something like that,” he said, standing up. He walked a few paces ahead, staring down the narrow street, his coat whipping in the wind.

Bernyce, meanwhile, scanned the area with fresh eyes. She had spent the last two years studying forensic psychology, but nothing could have prepared her for this moment. Being on the ground, seeing the grim reality of these disappearances, was different from anything she had read in books. The sense of loss hung in the air, heavier than the rain itself.

“You’re not used to this,” Bleddyn said suddenly, as if reading her mind. His voice was not mocking, but it was clear he was stating an undeniable fact.

Bernyce bristled. “No. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.”

Bleddyn turned toward her, studying her with those sharp, unreadable eyes of his. “Useful isn’t enough,” he said quietly. “You need to be more than that. If you want to survive in this line of work.”

Bernyce bit back a retort. There was a harshness in his tone, but something about the way he said it made her think he wasn’t being unkind—just brutally honest. He wasn’t wrong either. There was a part of her that questioned whether she was really ready for this. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. Not now.

“Then tell me what I need to know,” Bernyce replied, meeting his gaze head-on.

A flicker of something crossed Bleddyn’s face—approval, maybe. He nodded slightly before turning back to the scene. “The girl’s name was Emily Dawes,” he began, his voice steady. “Seventeen years old. No history of running away, no criminal background. She was last seen by her parents, leaving for school in the morning. She never made it. The police didn’t find any signs of a struggle.”

“Was there anyone she was meeting? Friends? A boyfriend?” Bernyce asked.

“No one. She was known for being quiet, keeping to herself. Which makes her disappearance even more interesting.”

Bernyce furrowed her brow. “Interesting? You talk about her like she’s a puzzle.”

Bleddyn stopped walking and turned to her. “That’s because she is. People are puzzles, Bernyce. They act based on patterns, impulses, decisions. This girl’s disappearance doesn’t fit her pattern. Someone interrupted it. And that’s what we need to find.”

Bernyce looked at him, unsure how to feel. He wasn’t wrong—psychology was about understanding patterns, behaviors, and decisions. But there was something unsettling about how easily he detached from the human aspect of it. Did he even care about Emily, or was she just another case to be solved?

“You’re thinking I’m cold,” Bleddyn said, as if sensing her discomfort. “That I don’t care.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Bernyce lied.

“Of course, you weren’t.” His gaze was fixed on her now, piercing. “But you’ll learn soon enough. Emotion clouds judgment. When you get too involved, you lose focus. And when you lose focus, you make mistakes. People like me can’t afford mistakes.”

Bernyce was quiet for a moment, taking in his words. She wanted to argue that empathy didn’t necessarily lead to mistakes, but she also understood what he meant. She had seen it happen in her own studies—how personal bias and emotions could warp someone’s perception. But wasn’t there a balance?

Before she could reply, Bleddyn suddenly crouched down again, studying something near a drain on the side of the road. He reached out and picked up a small piece of fabric, no bigger than a fingernail.

“Look at this,” he said, holding it up for her to see. It was dark blue, barely noticeable against the wet pavement. “This wasn’t in the report.”

“What is it?” Bernyce asked, stepping closer.

“A piece of fabric. Could be from Emily’s uniform.” He pocketed it and stood, looking at her with newfound intensity. “We might just have our first real clue.”

Bernyce felt her pulse quicken. Despite his coldness, she couldn’t deny how thrilling this was. Being a part of something real, something bigger than the classroom theories she had spent years studying. And while Bleddyn unnerved her with his distant demeanor, there was something about him that drew her in—an energy, a sharpness that she found fascinating despite herself.

“We’ll take it back to the lab,” Bleddyn said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “This could be important.”

As they headed back to the car, Bernyce couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. There was something about Bleddyn that felt… familiar. As if beneath all that icy exterior, there was something more—something deeper. She wondered if she’d ever be able to see it.

They drove in silence, the rain still pouring against the windshield. Bernyce stared out at the grey, rainy city, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. She was officially part of something far more intense than she had ever imagined.

And she wasn’t sure if it was the case that unsettled her more, or the man sitting beside her.