The Last Secret

On the morning of July 12, 2026, at approximately nine o’clock, Mayor Bowman and three others were pronounced dead upon arrival as streets emptied in seconds. Parents grabbed their children and ran while bystanders ducked behind cars and concrete barriers. Police believed it was a conspiracy to commit murder against the mayor, who had been shot in the head. Officers had yet to make any further comment on leads regarding the suspect, as Chief Solomon stated he would hold a live press conference with the media that afternoon.

“Before I go on to answer your questions, I would like to extend my deepest condolences to Mayor Bowman and the families of the other three victims. The citizens of Toronto should feel safe when walking these streets, and to the citizens at home, I promise you there will be justice.”

Reporters shouted questions over one another, each trying to catch the Chief’s attention. The Chief rubbed his face as reporters just wanted the next hot story. It was like watching children fight over the same toy. He overheard one reporter say to another.

“Wait your fucking turn. Let a real journalist ask the proper questions.”

The Chief remained silent, shaking his head as he stood there, disgusted by the reporter's mannerisms. He then leaned close to the microphone and spoke.

“At this time, I will not be answering any more of your questions.”

He walked off the podium when one of the reporters yelled.

“You didn’t answer any of our questions.”

The chief stooped halfway towards the exit. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned his torso towards the reporter.

“Why should I?” he said, walking back onto the podium and standing in front of the microphone. “All you people care about in this room is yourselves, fighting over who gets my attention. Do you not realize that four people have died today, and several are severely injured?”

There was a moment of weakness with the chief. His eyes grew glassy as he blinked rapidly to keep his tears at bay, looking back at the reporters as he spoke.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

The Chief gazed at the reporters for a moment, observing their expressions after what he had said. Their heads were bowed toward the ground. Ashamed of how they were acting, the Chief made his final comment.

“That will be all, thank you for your time.”

Ending the press conference with a heartfelt moment, across Toronto, TVs flickered as it aired. One of those TVs was in retired journalist Mark Woods's living room.

Mark Woods was an extraordinary journalist known for his ability to uncover the truth. Although he hasn’t been in the field for many years, he retired a couple of years ago due to his wife's illness. Until today, when he received an unexpected visit from one of his closest friends, Rob Smith.

Rob Smith was a private investigator who occasionally worked with Mark. They met while investigating the murder of a 10-year-old boy, Nathan Davidson. It was later learned that his brother, 14–year–old Jaccob Davidson, was the one who killed him.

While watching the CNN News discussion about this tragic event between Anderson Cooper and Victor Blackwell, the doorbell rings. He turned down the volume as he crawled off his La-Z-Boy chair. The doorbell rang again. Mark exhaled sharply and strode toward the door.

“Who is it?” “It’s me.” Mark furrowed his brows and hesitated to open the door. He yelled, “Me who?"

Rob said mockingly, “Seriously, Mark, after all those years working together, you still don’t recognize my voice?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought before second-guessing himself as he replied.

“Rob? Is that you?" "Yes, you idiot. Are you going to let me in or leave me standing out here?"

Mark walks toward the door and turns the doorknob to open it. His eyes widen when he spots Rob standing there. A grin spread across Mark's face.

“Hey, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

"So, are you going to let me in or just make me stand here with this six-pack of beer?"

Mark steps aside to let him in; Rob pauses briefly to look around at his space, then turns back to Mark and speaks.

“I see retirement life is treating you well.” "Yeah, but I miss being out in the field sometimes,” he replied as he shut the door.

Rob quietly placed the six-pack on the dining room table, gazing at the finished crossword puzzle. His fingers brushed the newspaper's corners before he turned to Mark, jaw clenched and responded.

“I might be able to help with that.” Mark frowned. “What do you mean by that? “

He narrowed his eyes at the television, watching the latest news about the mayor’s death. His gaze dropped to his feet, hesitant to speak. Then, he turned back to Mark and spoke.

"Did you hear about the mayor’s death?" "Yes, it's all over the news today.”

Rob's face lit up with a grin as he burst into laughter and responded.

“You must have been thrilled after being forced to retire." “He didn’t force me; I chose to retire due to my wife’s illness.”

His face turned red as he retorted sharply at Mark.

“Cut the crap, Mark; you know you were pressured to retire once you discovered his affair with Chief Solomon's wife. You nearly exposed the story, but he stopped you. So, why didn’t you go through with it?”

Mark's forehead creased as he looked at him with confusion, unsure how to respond. He replied.

“I faced a choice between spending life in prison or living in peace forever. If you were in my place, what would you choose? “

Mark observed Rob's anger as his fist clenched, knuckles whitening, and jaw tightening before he exploded in fury.

“I would have revealed his true nature; he's a worthless individual, and you know it. He not only cheated the Chief’s wife but also used taxpayers' money to cover his gambling debts and drug expenses.”

Neither man spoke. The ticking wall clock filled the silence as a fierce thunderstorm rolled in, with rain pounding the shingles and strong gusts of wind shaking the windows. The thunder echoed throughout the entire house.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Rob looked away as he reached for his beers, while Mark continued to watch him. Then Mark spoke.

"Rob, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Rob accidentally dropped his beer, which he then placed on top of his crossword puzzles. He looked at one of the clues and responded.

“19 down is the opposite of loyalty, representing Betrayal, which I have experienced throughout my entire life, even among my closest friends.”

Mark’s tone eased as he responded.

“What do you mean by betrayal? I've never betrayed you. Why would you say that?"

His nostrils flared as he gripped the beer bottle tightly, causing the skin on his knuckles to change colour. He took a deep breath to steady himself before responding.

“The mayor, my wife, you.” He paused briefly, gazing into the distance through the window at the pouring rain. Then, he turned back to him with intensity and carried on.

“Why didn’t you inform me that my wife was involved with Mayor Bowman?”

Mark’s stomach churned as he nervously fidgeted with his hands while replying.

“Rob, I have no idea what you're referring to." "Oh, I think you do because, ironically, I wasn’t the first to find out... It was my son, or at least I believed it was.”

Rob stood up, straightening his shoulders, and approached him. He moved closer to Mark's face, who then began to back away gradually across the room. Rob kept following him while speaking.

“My son was donating blood, and the staff asked him about his blood type. He thought it was positive because I am A positive and his mother is AB positive. However, when the nurse checked his health records, it showed his blood type was O negative.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol. Mark's eyes widened in surprise as he froze, his hands shaking and his voice wavering.

“Rob, what are you doing? Please put the gun down so I can explain," he said. "But Mark, you told me you had no idea what I was talking about. So how can you explain if you didn’t let me finish?” Rob replied. He pointed the gun at him and continued.

“My son managed to hack into the blood bank's health records he was donating to, and within their files, there was only one other person with the same blood type. Can you guess who that was?”

Mark's shoulders drooped as he looked down at his feet. Rob then kept talking.

“I asked my wife directly if she had any sexual relations with Mayor Bowman during our relationship, and she confirmed that she did. She explained it occurred while they worked together at City Hall, though I wasn't aware they knew each other in such a way.”

Mark then responded, “So, it was you. You are the one who killed the mayor.”

Rob suddenly burst into laughter, then swiftly shifted to a cold, sociopathic demeanour. His thumb grazed the side of the pistol, producing a faint click that resonated through the room and persisted.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t do it. After my wife and I separated, my son was heartbroken and felt guilty, thinking he was to blame. Seeing him on TV made him furious. For two months, he watched him carefully, waiting for the right moment. That afternoon, he came to my house with the pistol I’m holding now, which has my DNA on it. I accept responsibility for his actions.”

Mark then asked, "What does this have to do with me?" Rob replied. "Later that night, she told me everything—her affair, Mayor Bowman being Austin’s biological father; she even said that she confronted you about it and you told her to keep it a secret. Why would you say that?”

Mark’s hand trembled, sweat streaming down his temples. His throat clenched as he struggled to explain.

“Listen, Rob, let me explain. I knew if you found out sooner, you might have killed him. I didn’t want you to ruin your whole life over this mess. We were only trying to protect you.”

"Lying to me and raising a child that isn't even mine—those should have been my decisions. You should have been a better friend.”

Mark was pleading for his suffering as he fell to his knees and spoke.

“I know it's Rob, and I apologize. Please forgive me and put the gun down.”

His nostrils flared as he fought back tears, gazing downward. He tilted his head back, clenched his jaw, and spoke.

“It’s too late for my forgiveness, Mark. It’s time for us to be even.”

He was just about to pull the trigger when suddenly the front door swung open. Black-clad figures rushed into the hallway, rifles raised as they moved through the house, shouting and pointing their guns.

“Freeze! Drop your weapon now!"

Rob dropped his weapon, got on his knees, and raised his hands when one of the officers arrested him. Suddenly, Chief Solomon appeared out of nowhere, walking slowly towards Rob, squarely facing him as he spoke.

“One of our officers found your son about twenty minutes ago at a motel off Highway 401. We have taken him into custody and will be charging him with first-degree murder of Mayor Bowman. “

As he was being handcuffed, one officer read him his rights, and he looked at them both and responded.

“But how did you find me? How did you learn that my son was the one who killed Mayor Bowman?” "I quickly dialled 911 while you were busy admiring my crossword puzzle. After that, I put my phone in my side pockets and instructed the dispatchers to trace the call back to this location," Mark explained. He then looked at Chief Solomon and continued.

“Then I took hold of it and listened to everything, including your son's murder confession.”

Chief Solomon looked at an officer, who nodded in approval, and he took the person away. The two of them watched him from a distance as he turned his gaze toward Mark and spoke.

“I apologize for what happened. Are you hurt or require medical assistance? Attention.” "No, I’m fine, thank you. Do you know how long he'll remain in custody?" Mark responded.

The chief responded, “It's the legal system's decision." He then posed a question to Mark.

“What did he mean earlier when he said to you that Mayor Bowman screwed me?”

Mark's gaze drifted to the floor. After a long pause, I gave him the answer he wanted to hear instead of the one he deserved.

“It's nothing serious, just that you're being appointed as deputy mayor. That's all.”

A smile appeared on the chief’s face as he looked back at Mark and spoke.

“It's amusing you mention that, because I've been thinking all along that it was the mayor who was screwing my wife.”

Mark froze, looking at him like he couldn't believe he heard correctly. Then, the chief stepped closer and whispered.

Here's a secret: Rob’s son didn’t kill the mayor; I was the one responsible. He attempted to but missed entirely and ended up killing three others instead. I observed him from across the building. Clearly, he had no clue how to handle a gun. It was a flawless crime — it couldn’t have gone better.

The chief then began to walk away from Mark, glanced back with a cunning expression, and spoke.

"You have a good night, Mark."

Mark's gaze remained fixed on Chief Solomon's smiling face, returning his look. Never had he witnessed such a combination of revenge and betrayal in a single night. He then turned toward the mirror in the living room and spoke.

“I suppose we all have our secrets.”