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David hesitated, his mind struggling to recall any specific details. "I’m not sure... but I think Amelia said something about him being known for detective stories or something like that. It’s all a bit fuzzy."

Mr. Lay stepped forward, picking up the book on the desk in her bedroom. "Detective stories... that could explain a lot. I reckon it’s tied to the book she was reading - The Silent Shadow."

David’s gaze shifted between Mr. Lay and the book, a sense of unease crawling up his spine. "You mean him, Julian Marlowe is the author of The Silent Shadow?"

Mr. Lay nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the book. "It seems like more than just a random name. Maybe Amelia found something in that book… Something about it, about Marlowe."

The room grew colder as the weight of the mystery settled on their shoulders. Mrs. Lay clutched her hands tightly together, her voice barely above a whisper. “But why didn’t she tell us? If she was in danger, why didn’t she reach out?”

David thought back to the little he knew about Julian Marlowe. “I don’t know… But I’m starting to think she might have stumbled into something much bigger than she ever expected. And Julian may have some clues about where Amelia is.”

Mr. Lay’s eyes sharpened. "If that's the case, we need to find him. Fast." He stood straighter, a sudden sense of urgency flooding his words. “Let’s go meet this detective story writer tomorrow."

David nodded, his mind still spinning with questions. "We’ll figure this out, Mr and Mrs. Lay. One way or another."

Suddenly, the wailing sound of a siren cut through the stillness, growing louder and more urgent as it approached. The sound rattled the air, sending a chill through the room. Mr. and Mrs. Lay exchanged a brief, worried glance before turning toward the window. The flashing lights of emergency vehicles illuminated the street outside, casting long shadows across the walls.

Police cars screeched to a halt in front of the house, their lights flashing wildly in the night. Officers quickly spilled out of the vehicles, their movements swift and practiced. The heavy footsteps of law enforcement echoed through the street as they rushed toward the front door, their radios crackling with static.