The station paperwork took forty minutes.
Drake sat across from me while I filled out forms. His pen moved slowly, like he was in no hurry to finish.
"You always this quiet?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded like that made sense.
When we were done, he stood and grabbed his keys.
"Need a ride to the bureau?"
"That's where you're taking me?"
"It's on the way to nowhere."
He shrugged.
"Figured I'd save you the bus."
Siver drifted through the wall.
"He likes you. Or he's curious. Same thing, really."
I followed Drake to the car.
The Riverdark Crime Investigation Bureau was a narrow building wedged between a pawn shop and a closed diner.
The sign out front had letters missing.
Drake dropped me at the curb.
"Good luck, specialist."
"I don't really believe in luck."
"Yeah."
He pulled away.
"But I figured you might need it."
Inside, the air smelled like old paper and coffee.
A woman in her forties stood behind the front desk, sorting files. She looked up when I entered.
"Andres?"
"Yes."
"Chief Inspector Voss."
She didn't offer her hand.
"You're earlier than expected."
"My flight landed."
She studied me for a moment.
"Cold Case and Special Inquiries is down the hall, second door on the left. Your desk is the one by the window."
"I was told I'd be assisting investigations."
"You will."
She picked up a stack of files and held them out.
"Start with these. Three cases from the last six months. Ruled natural or accidental. We're taking a second look."
I took the files.
The top one had a name I recognized.
Vance, Elara.
"Something wrong?" Voss asked.
"Nothing."
She nodded slowly.
"Your partner is Detective Ayra Thorne. She's out in the field today. You'll meet her tomorrow."
She turned back to her desk.
That was the end of the conversation.
The office was small.
Two desks. A filing cabinet. A window that faced a brick wall.
I sat down and opened the Vance file.
The official report was thin.
Carbon monoxide poisoning. Found in her car, engine running, garage door closed. No suicide note. No signs of struggle. Toxicology showed elevated CO levels.
Case closed within three days.
I flipped to the recommending officer's signature.
Dr. Simon Castell.
Siver appeared behind me, reading over my shoulder.
"Same name as the airport thief's report?"
"His brother," I said. "Elias Vance."
"And the doctor signed off on both."
"He signed off on all three of these."
I tapped the stack.
"Two deaths. One theft. Same recommending officer."
"That's either efficiency or something else."
There was no such thing as coincidences. Three of them, same name—not possible.
I pulled out the other two files.
One was a dock worker named Victor Crane. Heart failure. No autopsy.
The other was a forensic consultant, Marcus Hale. Gas leak explosion. Body burned. Identification through dental records.
I read Hale's file twice.
"Burned beyond recognition," I muttered.
"Convenient," Siver said.
"That's one word for it."
I closed the files and leaned back.
Voss had said the evidence lockers were disorganized. That usually meant things went missing.
I needed to see what was still there.
The evidence locker was in the basement.
I found the custodian—a man with tired eyes named Pol—and showed my ID.
"Vance case," I said. "Evidence items."
He checked his log.
"Most of it was released to the family. What's left is in Box 14-C."
He led me to a shelf.
The box was small. I opened it.
Two items: a pair of gloves and a single earring.
No notebook. No personal effects. No car keys, no phone. Nothing that would show where she'd been before she died.
I held the earring up to the light.
Small. Silver. Blood on the clasp.
"She was wearing this when they found her?"
Pol shrugged. "That's what the log says."
I bagged the earring and signed it out.
On my way back upstairs, Siver walked beside me.
"Blood on the earring," he said. "If she died of carbon monoxide, she wouldn't have been bleeding."
"No," I said. "She wouldn't."
The sun had set by the time I left the bureau.
The streets were quieter now. Streetlights flickered. The river was somewhere to my left—I could smell it.
I walked without direction, letting the city settle around me.
Siver was quiet for once.
I thought about Elara Vance. Her file. The missing evidence. The blood on the earring that shouldn't have been there.
I thought about her brother, Elias. The way he collapsed at the airport. The way Drake said he'd been asking questions before he started stealing.
Someone had closed those cases fast.
Someone had made sure the evidence disappeared.
I stopped at a corner.
Across the street, a figure stood under a broken streetlight. They were watching me.
I stared back.
After a moment, the figure turned and walked away.
Siver materialized beside me.
"Friend of yours?"
"No."
I watched until the figure disappeared into the dark.
Tomorrow, I'd go to the morgue. I'd find Dr. Castell and ask about his signatures. I'd see what else he'd signed off on.
But tonight, I walked.
And somewhere in the city, someone was already watching.