The walk back from the café felt noticeably longer than the way there. He still couldn't make sense of what he had witnessed. Lost in thought, he shifted his grip just in time, before the top bag of sandwiches tipped out of balance and nearly fell to the ground.
The barista, Isaac, seemed to have far more going on than his appearance suggested. Though Benedict wasn't even sure what exactly he had seen. The men who had rushed past him had definitely been a couple of brutal thugs—whether they belonged to some kind of clan or not.
The way one of them had grabbed Isaac, he had been moments away from beating the young man senseless. Yet Isaac had remained disturbingly calm. No panic. No hesitation. Instead, he had driven them off. Alone. One against three. And he had visibly hurt the one who had grabbed him first.
Benedict gave a slight shake of his head. How was he supposed to judge the young man after all that?
He still remembered Isaac's controlled movements after the men had fled, and the uncontrolled trembling that had followed moments later. Of course, he could be mistaken—but the whole thing felt strange to him.
On the one hand, Isaac seemed like nothing more than a normal young man, with nothing odd about him except his appearance.
And yet his gut told him that he should keep an eye on Isaac for a while longer. At least until he was sure that everything about him was truly all right.
Carefully, he balanced the breakfast up four flights of stairs to Jasper's apartment. Benedict cursed as he struggled to get the door open. He almost laughed in triumph when he managed it without dropping anything he carried.
He pulled the door shut behind him with his foot and decided that he would watch Isaac over the coming weeks. No matter what came of it. Even if Isaac had nothing to do with the two cases Benedict was currently working on.
He would find out what was behind all of this.
"Did you remember the remoulade in the cheese sandwiches?" Jasper asked as Benedict tried to unload everything onto the table without causing too much chaos.
Benedict rolled his eyes.
"Yes. And the ham, the eggs, and your damn pickles," he replied, slightly irritated. He was still balancing that one stubborn bag that had nearly slipped out of his hands the entire way from the café. "Maybe you could help me before I spill everything?"
Jasper got up immediately. "You could've just said you needed help."
"As far as I know, you've got pretty good eyes."
Jasper rolled his eyes dramatically. "You're a real ray of sunshine again," he muttered, but still stepped up beside Benedict and helped distribute the bags and cups safely on the table.
Benedict snorted in amusement. "You try hauling four coffees and six bags of sandwiches across the city."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just bring a bag next time?" he suggested sarcastically.
Benedict swallowed a snide remark, because unfortunately Jasper was right. He really should have brought the bag—would've saved him a lot of trouble. Still, he'd never give Jasper the satisfaction. Instead, he grabbed his coffee and flopped down onto the couch.
"Did you manage to find out anything else?" he asked instead.
Jasper shook his head. "Nothing we didn't already know. I just went over the colleagues' reports again and expanded our museum file." He reached for his latte macchiato with a generous helping of caramel, took a deep sip, and closed his eyes in pleasure. "Mmm. Nothing gets the brain going better than a proper dose of sugar."
Benedict grimaced. "I don't know how you manage to drink that sludge."
"It's really not as bad as you're making it out to be," Jasper replied dryly.
"Sure," Benedict snorted.
He much preferred his black coffee without any frills to that overly sweet stuff. He wasn't really into sweet food or drinks anyway—it took a very specific craving for him to even get something like a caramel latte macchiato down.
His gaze drifted to their whiteboard. He studied once more everything they'd put together so far, only to realize that there was still no trace of the White Phantom.
The guy had simply vanished, just like the Black Phantom. They had dissolved into thin air. Most of all, no one had seen Moonshadow since Benedict had shot him and the phantom had disappeared around the corner. It was as if he had truly evaporated.
They had worked straight through the night from Friday evening into Saturday morning. But so far, all their effort had gone unrewarded. What the work had left behind, however, were two completely exhausted cops who would probably have fallen asleep long ago without their coffee or half a pallet of energy drinks.
"Are the remaining reports in yet?" Benedict finally asked.
"Should be any minute now. Forensics is doing its best to analyze the blood. We're still waiting on the report from tech as well, and from the team that checked the air vents."
Benedict sank a little deeper into the cushions. At least he didn't feel uncomfortable crashing at Jasper's place. Maybe he could talk him into going out for a drink later. With a bit of luck, he might even get another night on Jasper's couch.
"Do you think the reports will come in today?"
Jasper nodded. "They should be here by this evening at the latest."
"So, tonight," Benedict murmured. "Hey, Jas, what do you think about grabbing a drink later? Sebastian would probably be in too."
Jasper raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You're voluntarily suggesting going out?"
Benedict shrugged. "You weren't there the last time I went out with Sebastian. Maybe I've got a guilty conscience." A crooked smile crossed his face. "Besides, I could crash on the couch here. Tomorrow we'd have another chance to go over everything calmly—unless you already have a brilliant idea of what you want to present at Monday's morning briefing."
Jasper studied him in silence for a moment, then sighed. "Mi casa es tu casa—you know that."
Benedict gave a tired grin. "Perfect. I'll ask Sebastian if he's got time."
While Jasper nodded in agreement, Benedict reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. His thumbs flew over the keyboard as he typed the message.
Benedict
Feel like grabbing a drink tonight?
Sebastian replied almost immediately.
Sebastian
When and where?
Is Jas coming too?
Benedict
He is.
We're working the case right now and could use a bit of distance.
Sebastian
Sounds good.
Do you still need help?
Benedict
We're almost done.
8 p.m. at our regular bar?
Sebastian
Works for me.
See you there.
Benedict
See you later.
Benedict let his phone drop to his side. "Sebastian's in. We're meeting around eight at our regular bar."
"Sounds good," Jasper said. He rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back for a moment. "Probably really isn't a bad idea to get out of here for a while."
Benedict went through his unread messages once more, mechanically scrolling through emails and internal notices. Then he paused. A new notification from his work inbox made him straighten up immediately.
"I think the forensics reports were just uploaded."
Jasper was instantly alert. "Really? Then let's go through them before we take a break." He sounded noticeably more energized than he had just seconds ago. In one smooth motion, he grabbed his tablet, rolled his shoulders briefly, and started reading. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reached for his coffee and took a thoughtless sip.
Benedict logged in on his own tablet and opened the bloodstain analysis report. He devoured every single word on the screen. The report wasn't particularly long and reflected exactly what he himself had seen. He skimmed through the text quickly, heading straight for the part he actually cared about.
His finger froze at the edge of the screen when he finally reached the relevant passage.
Now this was getting interesting.
The DNA analysis.
He tapped on the attached file and faltered as he read.
That couldn't be right—there had to be a mistake. He read through everything carefully, yet an intensely bad feeling crept over him. It could, of course, just be his exhaustion, or the faint paranoia that had been gnawing at him ever since they'd found the note. He rubbed his tired eyes and read through the entire report again.
But the contents of the report didn't change.
"Pinch me, Jasper, because I really don't believe what I'm seeing here," Benedict finally sighed, defeated.
Jasper yawned widely and shot him an equally tired look. "What are you working on right now?"
"The bloodstain analysis report. They analyzed the DNA and sent us the matching profile."
Jasper raised a skeptical eyebrow. Benedict handed him his tablet with the report open, which Jasper skimmed immediately. "And where exactly is the problem if we have a hit?"
"It's supposedly a woman. Amara Lane, twenty-seven years old, lives here in the city, right by Petal Plaza."
Jasper paused for a moment. "Karate instructor," he read on. "Very athletic, has won several championships. Honestly, that doesn't sound all that far-fetched. The way you described Moonshadow, our phantom seems to be more than just a little athletic. She could fit the profile."
Benedict shook his head firmly. His gut feeling said no—absolutely not. "Moonshadow was wearing tight clothing, yes. And he was athletic, no question about that. But the phantom I saw was definitely a man."
He leaned forward. "He moved like a man too. His center of gravity, his steps, the way he jumped… no matter how often I read this report and weigh the facts against each other, it just doesn't fit."
Jasper slowly set the tablet down on the table. "We'll summon her anyway," he said evenly. "And you're going to take a good look at her. You're the only one who really saw Moonshadow."
He stretched and suppressed another yawn. The exhaustion sat deep in his bones.
Benedict nodded reluctantly. "Fine. Even if it feels like a waste of time."
"You know I trust your gut more than anything else," Jasper said. "I just don't want us to miss any kind of lead."
"What does the city council say?" Benedict asked cautiously.
Jasper didn't answer right away.
He'd been under pressure for days, and the phantom duo's successful heist had definitely not made things any easier for him. He was the one sticking his neck out for every mistake, and every oversight was pinned on him.
The more Benedict thought about it, the more unfair it seemed.
Jasper might have been their superior, but the blame really lay with Ben and the other colleagues who had been guarding the Aurora's Tear exhibition hall.
Moonshadow had slipped right past them. They hadn't noticed him until he'd already stolen the jewel. Communication had failed, and no one had managed to get it working again. Then there had been the noise. There were so many little things that had gone wrong that it wasn't surprising nothing had worked.
However the two phantoms had pulled it off, the moment they vanished, everything had started working normally again. Benedict was convinced that no one could have done anything in that situation.
Maybe he should have been faster than the White Phantom, aimed better, or not taken his eyes off the object. No matter how he looked at it, the situation frustrated him beyond measure.
They should have gotten in trouble—not Jasper.
Benedict had never had a problem taking responsibility for his own mistakes. But watching someone else take the fall for them was almost unbearable—especially when it was one of his best friends.
Jasper rubbed his tired eyes. "They want results as quickly as possible. The heists are costing too much." He made a sarcastic hand gesture. "Our beloved phantom duo is well known for choosing rather expensive works of art. That's made a whole bunch of very rich bastards pretty angry."
"Of course," Benedict said, rolling his eyes. "In the end, it's always just about money, isn't it?"
"Money makes the world go round," Jasper snorted. "And unfortunately, as police officers, it's our job to keep exactly those people happy—the ones who regularly support us with generous donations."
Benedict grimaced. "Our job is supposed to be catching bad guys and solving crimes."
"Supposed to be," Jasper confirmed flatly.
"Jas?"
"Hm?"
"If the blood trail leads nowhere, what steps do we take next?" Ben asked as he lay down on Jasper's couch. His gaze fixed thoughtfully on a small, darker spot on the ceiling.
"Then we'll take appropriate measures."
"What kind of measures?"
"Creative ones," Jasper sighed. He set his tablet down on the coffee table and leaned heavily back into his armchair. "We've tried everything so far to catch him. And until Wednesday, we didn't even know there were two thieves. The classic approach isn't getting us anywhere. The legal options are… limited."
"There are still options," Benedict put in.
Jasper looked at him for a long moment. "There are. And believe me, I'm thinking about them." A crooked smile flickered across his face. "But it doesn't hurt to at least keep alternative ideas in the back of your mind."
Benedict nodded and rubbed his aching temples.
"This case is giving me a headache. Moonshadow's blood trail ends right in front of a painting. The emergency exit was still sealed off. He wasn't in the ventilation shafts, and he didn't use any other exit. The colleagues posted outside the museum didn't see anyone suspicious—especially no one wearing white."
"Maybe he blended in with the men who were inside," Jasper mused. "I can't explain it any other way."
Benedict raised an eyebrow in amusement. "He? So you do believe me that it was a man?"
Jasper gave a quiet snort.
"Of course I believe you. Your gut feeling has led us in the right direction more than once." He paused briefly. "We still have to check everything thoroughly so the higher-ups are satisfied. And, on the side, it gives me little tidbits I can keep dangling in front of them." A devilish grin flashed across his face.
Benedict glanced at all the unread reports still waiting for them. He sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, and yawned loudly.
They'd been sitting here since Friday night, trying to filter the truly relevant information out of a flood of data. They'd gone over notes, floor plans, and the positioning of their men again and again.
And yet everything had led to nothing.
They didn't know when Moonshadow had broken in, nor how. And even less how he'd managed to disappear.
He'd simply been gone—in a matter of seconds.
On the forums, the fans had long since started talking about magic.
And slowly, Benedict was beginning to believe them.