"And you think it's all because of something they bought in the store?"
The question came out quietly, almost a whisper. David didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned on the blinker and carefully drove around a deep puddle on the side of the road. Ahead, through the haze, old wooden houses by the pier were beginning to appear.
Finally, he sighed.
"So far, that's the only connection between all the victims."
He spoke almost like he was giving a briefing. The children could hear the hidden tension in his voice.
"People go into Pinky's shop. They buy something. Then they head to the river. And soon after, they're found dead."
Gina crossed her arms.
"But how can some object kill a person?"
"Good question," David replied grimly.
He paused for a second, as if deciding whether to say more.
"Most likely," David continued after a short pause.
"That's why we'll talk to Pinky first. We'll see exactly what he's selling and what he's hiding."
He glanced in the rearview mirror.
"Just be careful. If this guy is really selling cursed items, he might be far more dangerous than he seems."
The minivan slowly rolled along the river. Outside the windows stretched an old waterfront street, crooked wooden houses, closed souvenir shops, rusty chains by the piers, and boats quietly rocking on the dark water.
The closer they got to the old part of the embankment, the fewer people they saw.
Finally, the building they needed appeared ahead.
An old two-story house stood almost right at the water's edge, as if it had grown into the bank. The boards, darkened by dampness, were covered in cracks, and the roof sagged slightly under its own weight. Above the door hung a faded sign:
"Pinky's Antiques & Talismans"
Some of the letters had almost completely worn away. In the windows hung masks. Dozens of masks.
Wooden, bone, painted in dull colors and decorated with feathers, shells, and small animal teeth. Some depicted human faces, others clearly something inhuman, elongated muzzles, empty eye sockets, strange smiles with too many teeth.
And almost all of them were turned toward the street.
David drove a little further and parked at the curb, making sure the minivan remained in view. The engine fell silent, and with it, the familiar noise of the cabin disappeared.
David sat motionless for a few seconds, staring at the shop through the windshield. Then he finally turned off the engine and turned to the children.
"Gina, keep your hand near your gun."
She nodded silently.
"Ethan, stay right by me."
The boy swallowed nervously.
"I'll do the talking."
David opened the door and stepped out first.
The damp air by the river was colder than expected. It carried the smell of silt and rotting algae. Somewhere nearby an old pier creaked, and the wind swayed the metal wind chimes hanging under the roof.
Gina and Ethan followed.
Wet boards squelched softly under their feet.
As they got closer, it became clear that the shop door was slightly ajar. The dark gap between the door and the frame looked almost black.
From inside came the scent of incense, old wood, and something else. David frowned slightly.
He adjusted his jacket so the fake FBI badge was clearly visible, then carefully placed his hand on the door.
The old hinges creaked quietly. No sound came from inside the shop. Only a faint, yellow light flickered somewhere between the shelves.
David stepped inside first.
The floorboards immediately groaned pitifully under his weight.
Gina and Ethan followed, and the door behind them slowly swung shut, as if closing on its own.
The shelves and walls were overflowing with goods: decorative swords and daggers hung on hooks, strange masks made of wood and ceramic with empty eye sockets stared from the walls, bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, spreading a heavy, spicy smell.
On the shelves stood antique coins in glass cases, darkened amulets, worn books, and rows of glass jars with mysterious contents, dried insects, roots, bones, and murky liquids.
David, Gina, and Ethan moved further inside, cautiously looking around. The floor creaked under their feet.
Ethan involuntarily lingered on one of the masks, a wooden one with a stretched, toothy grin and overly large eyes. It felt like it was staring straight at him.
Behind the counter stood a young, short man around twenty-eight. He had a pleasant, almost boyish face, neat hair, and a friendly, slightly shy smile.
Thin glasses in a metal frame made him look like a polite student or librarian.
He looked completely ordinary, the kind of person you could meet in any small town and immediately forget.
"Good afternoon," he said softly, smiling. His voice was pleasant and calm.
"How can I help you?"
He smiled openly, a little shyly. His thin glasses glinted faintly in the dim lamplight.
David didn't waste time. He calmly pulled out a fake FBI badge in a leather holder from under his jacket and showed it to Pinky, holding it close enough for him to see every detail.
"Special Agent Harper," David said in a professional tone, completely devoid of warmth.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation. We're investigating the disappearance of three local fishermen, and these are my interns, they were sent to me for some field training."
The children gave a shy nod toward the shopkeeper.
"Several fishermen visited your store shortly before their deaths. What can you tell us about that?"