Fog clawed at the jagged cliffs, the sea below churning with a relentless fury mirroring the disquiet simmering in Detective Evelyn Crowe's gut. The victim, Alistair Thorne, lay splayed across the library floor, the opulent room strangely untouched by the storm raging outside. A single bullet wound marred his forehead, an impossible crimson stain against the pristine marble. But the truly unsettling detail was the locked study door and sealed windows. This wasn't just murder; it was a meticulously crafted puzzle, and Evelyn, with her uncanny ability to sense residual emotions, was the only one who could solve it.