Case 0

by May Freighter

  Des snickered next to him.

  Annalise locked her jaw, stopping her need to snap at him. Hopefully, not everyone in HPD is as strange as these two.

  Mavel's trembling hand landed on her lower back. He could lose control with Rios around. Without looking up, she knew the murderous look he would be wearing. Forgetting her earlier irritation, she studied the lift buttons and prayed the numbers would change quicker.

  To her relief, the strange duo changed the topic to their pool game from the previous night, and Mavel’s posture visibly became unburdened.

  After arriving on their floor, Des led the way down the corridor to the Human Possession Department.

  Observing her surroundings, Annalise tried to memorise the layout. A few framed pictures of different esteemed officers hung on the wall with their name and rank etched into golden plaques.

  They walked into a spacious room with six desks and a small sectioned off office at the far end. The top two desks were packed with enough tech and paperwork on them to topple over. The one on her left was occupied by a man who couldn't be older than thirty. He reclined in his chair. In his left hand, he held an open manila folder. Deep in thought, he poked his full lips with a stylus held between his long fingers. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp and his eyes scanned his notes.

  At a desk across from him, a slim blonde read a paperback book with enough blood and guts on the cover to make Annalise's stomach churn. Annalise couldn't figure out why both of them were using paper instead of their terminals on their desks. Were there cuts in the budget? Then again, they may have forgotten what a terminal looked like with the amount of things clustering their workspace.

  The woman lowered the book and rose from her seat with the grace of a panther. Her wheat-coloured bob with red highlights hugged her oval face. She studied everyone with curiosity.

  Their eyes met, and Annalise knew she was a flare. Their genetic trait was crimson irises and an ability to read and induce emotions. They were the rarest of the modded, even rarer in a Police Department since they preferred to stay secluded. Some even ended their lives early if they were unable to control their abilities.

  “The new guys are here,” she announced, sounding bored.

  The man at the desk glanced up from his paperwork. He tossed his file aside and walked over. The material of his grey shirt was stretched around his biceps and chest. His body was bigger and broader than Mavel's, although their height remained the same.

  “I'm Jamen,” he said, offering his hand. “And this is my partner, Calla.”

  Mavel shook hands with them.

  Annalise studied the woman. She was pretty, but not alabaster-beautiful. Her willowy form seemed almost fragile, and Annalise knew too well she wouldn't have been allowed into the Department if she didn't pass all the stamina and strength tests. What more could she be hiding?

  Rios scratched his head and flopped into a chair by the window. “Guess I better start on my report.”

  “Did Chief already assign you to the Landon's case?” Jamen asked.

  “Yeah, I've been awake all night looking through the CCTV footage. The finale of it is missing for some reason,” Rios replied.

  “Missing?” Calla asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

  Rios winked. “Sorry, luv, the rest is on a need-to-know basis. Chief doesn't want me spilling the beans to everyone. Same goes for you, Des, mouth zipped about this one.”

  “I believe our Chief said that to you personally,” Des replied with a cocky smile and took her place at the desk across from him.

  Annalise guessed the last two empty desks belonged to her and Mavel, or they would if she managed to get past everyone. “Mavel—”

  He met her gaze, and they brushed past Jamen and Calla. They headed for what seemed to be the Chief's office at the back. Lifting her hand in the air, her heart kicked into another nervous dance only, this time, it had nothing to do with Mavel being next to her. Drawing in a steadying breath, she knocked on the glass.

  A rumbling voice ordered for her to enter.

  They inched inside and waited for the man on the other side to finish his call. Upon closer inspection, Annalise noted he was in his fifties. Chief Kevin Sunderland sat behind a desk too small for his generous weight. The buttons of his snug pink shirt stretched over his belly.

  He finished his call by tapping his wrist comms and lifted his piercing pale-blue eyes to meet hers. “I take it you're Annalise? Great, I'll skip the tutorial stage as I expect the Academy had taught you enough to handle minor cases. You'll be assessed by Jamen for the duration of this case.” With his chubby fingers, Chief handed her a digital tablet he had laying on his desk. “This is your case zero, Storm. It'll be your test to see if you truly fit into this division.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. In her hands, she already held a case. Just how unorthodox was the HPD? Usually, new detectives and officers had to shadow their seniors for three to six months, depending on the department, prior to being allowed to lead a case.

  “But—”

  “What are you standing around for? Get moving and talk to your superior.” Chief huffed and dismissed them with a flick of his hand.

  “Understood,” she mumbled and walked out of his office, dumbfounded.

  Calla glided over. “He's a charmer, I know. Well, don't look so worried. If you have any questions regarding the procedure, I'm willing to help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But, I have a condition…”

  “Don't do it,” Rios shouted from his desk. He was already reclining as far as the seat would let him with a purple eye mask covering half of his face.

  Calla grinned like a mischievous little girl. “All I want is to get any and every image of the dead you find. Disassembled bodies are fine, too. The more blood the better.”

  Annalise grimaced. Why would anyone willingly want to stare at those things? During her second year at the Academy, they had to study Criminology and were forced to assess images of crime scenes. The labs had vents through which a gas was pumped to simulate the smells. The majority of the students brought their own bags to puke into. Those who didn't, well, the cleaners had a lot to deal with at the end of each session.

  Mavel nudged her side. “We should speak to Jamen.”

  “Yes, we should.”

  Trying her best to avoid touching any of the paperwork, she beamed at her superior and offered him the tablet. “This is the case we are going to work on together. Is there anything I need before we head out?”

  Jamen mumbled something and tossed his case file atop of the wobbly pile. “Follow me. I have to acquaint you with AID and then we can get your gun issued.”

  Annalise frowned. “AID?”

  As Jamen marched towards the door, he said, “It's short for Artificial Intelligence of Divinity. We use it to upload data to the DPD servers when we’re on the go. It can record witness statements as well as be your personal time manager.”

  She hastened her steps to try to match his strides. Mavel, on the other hand, had no trouble keeping up.

  They headed down the corridor, and Jamen said, “AID organises your cases by updating them. If you want to access any cases from the past, you will need to do so from here. So, outside of the headquarters, you only have access to the current case until Chief closes it or sends it to someone else.” Jamen faced her. “Am I talking too fast?”

  Annalise shook her head, and they filed into a lift.

  “Good”—he pressed the 'F-1' button on the panel—“because I don't like repeating myself.”

  2

  AID

  When the lift arrived on the F-1 level, they were met with a cream corridor that spanned the length of the building.

  “Where are we?” Annalise asked, studying the glass doors on either side of them.

  Jamen glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to slow his hurried strides. “The underground level is an afterthought of the offic
ials. Half of them wanted a large car park to fit anti-riot vans and motorcycles, the others claimed we needed room for data storage and an armoury. So, on the right, you can find the former and, on the left, the latter.”

  He came to a stop and placed his palm on a glass door. The scanner built into the surface lit up and the door unlocked. “As a newbie, your access will be restricted. If you need any data you can’t access from your terminal or your wrist comms, you’ll have to ask me to help you retrieve it.”

  Marching after her superior, Annalise came face to face with the huge space full of weapons, modified wrist comms, and other tech she’d never seen till now. Next to her, Mavel observed everything with wide eyes.

  Without delay, Jamen strode to the crystal shelves and selected a pistol along with an add-on to the wrist communications device. He placed both of them on the oval table in the centre of the room and waved for them to join him.

  Annalise held her breath as she edged closer. She focused on the black steel frame of the pistol. “Is that mine?”

  “Yes. The modified SIG PT226 has nine-millimetre bullets pumped with a paralyzer. One shot neutralises the suspect and two shots kill.” Jamen rested his palms against the reflecting surface of the crystal table. His eyes locked with Mavel’s. “Against beasts, I suggest two bullets. You won’t survive otherwise.”

  Mavel set his jaw. “I will keep her safe.”

  Raising his brow, an unnerving smile stretched Jamen’s lips. “Out there, although it seems like a peaceful little city, dark things happen—things that can leave scars deeper than an amputated limb. You won’t always be by her side. Instead of saying you’ll protect her, make sure you don’t get carried away. After all, you can turn at any moment.”

  Annalise’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. Anger reverberated through her. As she readied her protest, Mavel said, “Then I will do just that.”

  “Good to have you both on board.” Jamen slapped him on the shoulder. Even now, Annalise couldn’t pinpoint Jamen’s true demeanour.

  The detective’s attention returned to her, and he pointed to the wrist comms add-on on the table. “Put it on.”

  Doing as she was told, Annalise secured it around her right wrist, connecting it to her normal comms. The metal bands locked in place and the screen blinked on. A sudden prick on her skin made her wince.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “A DNA sample. The comms need it to identify the officer,” Jamen replied.

  The device finished processing the data and a holographic image of a young girl in a frilly, knee-length dress appeared on top of the display. She smiled at Annalise. “Hello, Detective Storm. I am A.I.D., an Artificial Intelligence of Divinity. Please tell me the seven digit code on your selected service weapon.”

  Jamen handed her the SIG.

  Forced to put away the digital tablet the Chief had given her, she accepted the gun. The familiar heaviness in her hand made her smile. She located the serial number on the barrel of the gun and read it out loud.

  “Voice activation and registration confirmed. Welcome to Divinity PD, Detective,” the AI said in a pleasant, child-like voice and disappeared.

  The SIG lit with a blue line along the top, causing her to frown.

  “When it’s blue,” Jamen said, “it means you are the correct user. Hand it over to your beast for a second.”

  Annalise passed the pistol to Mavel and the light immediately turned red. The AI hologram reappeared on top of the wrist comms with a sour expression. “It appears your weapon may be compromised. All trigger actions have been locked. Would you like me to fill out the necessary documentation for retrieval or issue a new one?”

  “Tell her no,” Jamen said.

  Annalise studied the little girl. “No, it’s alright.”

  “Understood,” AID said and vanished.

  Mavel handed her the SIG back. “Am I to receive one as well?”

  The detective shook his head. “Modded are not trusted with police tech.”

  “Then how is he supposed to defend himself if we’re attacked?”

  Jamen shoved his hands in his pockets. “Simple answer? Use his abilities. Now then”—he headed for the door—“you have your case. You don’t need to carry the tablet anymore. AID has downloaded the relevant data the moment your identification was complete.”

  “If we have an AI doing all the information storage and retrieval, why are you still using paper documentation?”

  “Because I don’t trust technology,” Jamen said. “Let’s head to my favourite place in this hellhole—the garage.”

  Annalise was not disappointed when they crossed the corridor and entered one of the many car parks under the DPD. According to Jamen, each department had their vehicle tailored for them. So, when they passed the SUVs, the motorcycles, and the anti-riot vans, disappointment filled her. Heading to the far end of the parking garage, she contemplated what the vehicles for the HPD could be.

  They came to a stop in front of the two-seater cars with barely any legroom. She raised a questioning brow at Mavel who cleared his throat in an attempt to hold in his laughter. Annalise pursed her lips. Just how low was the budget for her department?

  Jamen strode over to one of the navy-and-black vehicles. “This one is yours. Take the directions AID gives you to get to the crime scene. Calla and I will join you shortly.”

  She said nothing as she climbed into the car, taking the driver’s seat.

  Jamen headed back towards the entrance, and she faced Mavel. “What do you think?”

  “About the car or the whole intervention?”

  Annalise smiled. “The whole thing.”

  “I don’t trust him and his flare. If I had a choice, I would trust that flirt, Rios, over this man.”

  Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she weighed his words in her mind.

  Her wrist comms blinked on, and the AI’s voice filled the speakers in the car. “Service vehicle registration complete. Where would you like to be directed to, Detective?”

  “The crime scene, please.”

  “Acknowledged. Setting course for the Bronze District. Would you like anything else?” AID asked, and the small screen on the dashboard displayed the directions.

  “Ask her about the case,” Mavel said.

  Annalise turned on the engine and repeated the query.

  “The victim is Robert Fern. Sex: male. Age: forty-two. DNA analysis upon birth confirmed pureblood status. Current residence registered in the Bronze District. The residents: Robert Fern, Terry Fern, Ashley Fern, Keira Fern, and a female beast servant, Leila Green. The education database confirms the attendance of the victim’s children at St. John’s in the Silver District.”

  Annalise analysed Leila’s name. Her surname indicated she was born in the Green District, just like Mavel. Not the most pleasant of them all, especially when it was mostly the modded who were permitted to reside there. No pureblood would ever consider staying there willingly. Even the poorest of the purebloods remained in Bronze, at least, until they broke the law and were banished to live among the modded. She heard horror stories about that district, but not as many as she heard about the Red and Black Districts.

  “Any suspects?” Annalise asked as they left the car park and drove down the illuminated tunnel.

  “The most recent report from the officers on-site indicates that Leila Green is the perpetrator. The beast was reported missing by Terry Fern this morning,” AID replied.

  “Think she did it and ran?” Mavel enquired.

  “It’s plausible if their relationship was bad, but what I don’t get is how a family from Bronze could afford a school in Silver.”

  “It’s not uncommon for purebloods to work two jobs nowadays. Some of them force a couple of jobs onto their servants to bring in the credits.”

  It made sense. There was no law stating the servants had to be just maids or companions to their owner. Yet, if the beast worke
d too hard, their mental state would deteriorate. They could become possessed and take out their master. Is that what happened here?

  Annalise drove in silence. The only interruptions were from AID informing her of the turns to make. They passed the stone gate at the district bridging point and headed further west. Her father never considered people in Bronze to hold any importance. Residents of this district were believed to be the lower class and would rarely meet anyone from Golden.

  She observed the area. The houses here were huddled together. Most of the gardens were lined with rubbish and waste bins awaiting an overdue collection. Some could still afford to build a second floor, it seemed.

  Ten minutes later, Annalise killed the engine at Lower Deston Street. Twenty small bungalows lined the road. For once, she was happy she wasn’t driving her usual car because, no matter how she looked at it, her vehicle would not fit without blocking the oncoming traffic.

  She climbed out and stretched. Ahead of them, the crime scene was isolated. Four police officers circled the area, keeping the curious bystanders at bay.

  Annalise waited for Mavel to join her. They walked to the seven-foot-tall holo-barrier. Sucking in a nervous breath, she steadied her nerves and plastered a smile on her face. She showed her badge to the officer on duty. “I am Detective Annalise Storm with the HPD and this is my beast, Mavel. We are here to assess the situation.”

  Pity flashed in the young officer’s eyes. “Go ahead. Hope you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  Her smile faltered as she passed through the barrier. A small group of people rushed about inside. The Crime Scene Unit was already present. Their tiny mechanical drones searched the untrimmed grass for evidence and collected samples.

  Annalise focused on the small beech tree in the centre of the lawn. The leaves held a reddish tint even though it was only spring. Vine-like pink matter hung from the branches. With the next breath, the smell of decomposing meat hit her. The sight in front of her had nothing to do with poor decoration choice. Someone’s intestines were suspended on the tree.