The Last Dance

It has been two years and five months since I dissolved my team. We were together for 15 years, fighting through thick and thin. We faced death and won on multiple occasions, yet we also endured pain in different spheres of life.

Over the course of my 21-year career, I dedicated myself to performing my duty with integrity, always trying to do what was right. I was an investigative journalist. Now, I am retired.

I decided to put down my torch when I began to feel the downside of my job. My mind could no longer sustain the focus required to study cases and uncover the intricate patterns needed to bring them to a close. As a result, I found myself spending longer periods working on cases, gradually diminishing my brand and undermining my years of hard-earned reputation.

As the saying goes, it's better to bow out when the ovation is loud. So here I am—retired, resting my body, and tending to my beautiful backyard garden.

One of the best parts of being a retiree is that I finally have time for my family. They have been understanding throughout my career, but now that my children are older, I know they need me around. Jessica, my wife of 18 years, has been my pillar of support. She understood my love for fieldwork, yet I know she longed for my presence every day.

Spending time with loved ones allows you to discover new things about them. Clara, my firstborn, has always loved reading and writing—something I’ve known all along. But over the last two years, I’ve realized she also has a deep love for dogs. She has taken full responsibility for our dog, caring for it with such passion that it feels like her calling. When the dog fell sick, she didn’t want to go to school. She begged her mother to let her accompany it to the veterinary doctor, but Jessica insisted she go to school first.

One day, as I drove through town with my son, I asked him what he thought about life lately. He smiled and said, “It’s been beautiful.” Then he added, “I love being around you, Dad. I’m glad you’re done with work and finally here.”

His words struck something deep within me. I managed to mask my emotions with a smile, nodding along to the music playing in the car.

That Wednesday afternoon was particularly hot. I was alone, tired, and resting on the couch—my usual midday break after tending to the house and my garden. A sharp knock on the door interrupted my rest. No voice accompanied it.

I stood up to check.

When I unlocked and opened the door, I was met with a small box on the ground. Mysterious. I glanced around, scanning my surroundings, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. I picked up the box and took it inside. It was heavier than it looked.

When I opened it, my heart skipped a beat.

Inside was a case file—the only case I had failed to close in my entire career.

The murder of the mayor’s son.

It happened ten years ago, and I wrestled with it for years. I didn’t want that unsolved case to stain my reputation, but despite my efforts, I could never crack it. It was a high-profile case, and when my career fell apart, I chose to let it go. That was the end of it.

Until now.

The case file had found its way back to me.

I stared at it, my mind racing. My career. My family. My former team. My body. My mind.

Deep inside, I knew the truth.

I wanted to be in the field again. I wanted to hunt down the killer(s). I wanted to put this case to rest.

It was a growing fire in my heart.

I picked up the phone and called my old team.

One last dance.

I am out of retirement.
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