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The door shut firmly behind me, cutting off the low hum of hushed conversations and clinking glass as I left the main house. I glanced over the expansive view of the ocean visible through the large windows. There, standing alone on the beach against the horizon, was Emilio.

Alone.

"Evening, Emilio," I said as I approached, my footsteps muted on the warm sand.

"Agent Thomas," he replied without turning around, his voice deep and steady.

"Beautiful view," I commented, pausing beside him.

"Calm on the surface, but it hides strong undercurrents," he said, watching the rolling waves.

"Like this island," I ventured, matching his metaphorical tone.

"Exactly." He finally faced me, his gaze scrutinizing. "You're here for answers, aren't you?"

"Answers lead to truth," I stated, studying the guarded look in his eyes. "Isla's truth."

Emilio paused, then slowly nodded.

"So, you’ve heard. Yes, I knew Isla. She had many sides—some clear like these waters, others less so."

"Was your friendship with her straightforward or complicated?" I asked, implying the underlying tension without mentioning my own uncertainty.

"Both," he admitted, a hint of sadness in his voice. "She trusted me until things turned complicated."

"Turned complicated? How?"

"Problems arose," Emilio said shortly.

"Between you two?"

"Between all of us," he corrected, gesturing toward the house. "This place is built on complex relationships."

"Care to elaborate on those 'complications'?" My tone was steady, but inside, my mind raced.

"Another time, perhaps," he said, his eyes flickering with unreadable emotion. "Ask Mrs. Walton. She knows more than anyone else around here."

"Thank you, Emilio." I nodded, respecting his boundary while filing away every nuance.

"Remember, Agent Thomas," he called as I started walking away. "In tough situations, it's not just about getting by—it's about knowing where you're headed."

His words stayed with me as I paused briefly, nodding in agreement. I let his advice sink in, each word pushing me further into the heart of the investigation. A family’s future was at stake, and mine as well.

"Complications," I muttered, the word bitter on my tongue.

It hinted at more than just disagreements—it might even point to motives for murder.

I glanced back at the main house, realizing that every person there was potentially hiding secrets behind polite smiles and casual talk.