Chapter 3

Adrian

No one told me cases don't leave you at work, they follow you home, got on your walls and refrigerator surface. They get in your head, and when you rolled your eyes you no longer see brain matter but just cases, red ribbons, photographs and pens.

I knew that would be the case with Damien, all consuming as ever. And me? Obsessive, crazy.

I threw myself into the case immediately. It had been just a week but it already felt longer. Everyone had something to do, a role to play, and Mrs. Chen had been wonderful training me, although she claimed I knew it all already. I was grateful to have an older colleague showing me the ropes.

Arrests had been made, but aside from that, it had not gone the way I'd hoped. I expected the small gangs and street dealers to cave immediately, but a large number of them chose to keep quiet. All had lawyers. We had to let them go.

"Adrian?"

I turned around to find Mrs. Chen. I didn't miss the purple splotches under her eyes.

"Oh. Mrs. Chen. I was just coming in to talk to the guy we just brought in."

She drew a ragged breath that was also a sigh. "Right. He's dead, Adrian."

I stared stupidly at her. I heard her words but they didn't make sense yet.

"Dead?" It came out as a harsh whisper, more breath than word.

"Yes. We started with some questions while we waited for you. He started to choke when he said Damien's name."

My brows drew together.

"I know, I know. I'm not inclined to think that way either, but we've seen cases where minions swear oaths by their masters. It's easy to dabble in—"

I cut her off. "Well, I'm not inclined to believe in any of that at all. I'm going to see him." I marched away from her, anger rolling off me in waves.

I stopped short at the doorway and stared at the body. He was really dead. Foam at the mouth. With leaden feet, I walked closer, willing him to move, to tell me why he would rather die than give information about a man who didn't care if he lived or died.

A sweet smell reached me suddenly, heady and dizzying. But it was a good scent, one I could sleep to.

Wait.

I looked closer at the dead man.

"What is that?" I asked.

Mrs. Chen was by my side in a beat.

"A flower," she said.

There was a tiny petal on his neck, partially concealed by his shirt collar.

"Yes, a flower. But what kind?"

"Adrian." She said it softly, and I looked at her then and almost rolled my eyes. She thought I was losing my wits. It had been just a week, for God's sake.

"Oleander," I said. I stopped, and I did roll my eyes when she still looked blankly at me, but my look softened because I could tell she was tired. She was a mother too. "It's poisonous."

Understanding came into her eyes. "How did we miss that?"

I didn't answer. Someone in this room could have killed him, I thought, but I didn't say it.

"That doesn't matter. There are ways he could have done it. Feigned a cough and put it in his mouth. Anything. I'm more interested in the man people are willing to die for. What level he operates on. What it would take to finally bring him down, look him in the face and ask him how it felt to be pulled from his throne of bones."

"We'll get him, Adrian. Don't let him into your head." Her fingers touched my arm.

If only she knew.

I took a steeling breath. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Chen. I'm just frustrated."

"I know, Adrian. We all are."

"How's it going with the banks anyway?"

"On it, but it's going to take time. We don't expect him to use his real name. Multiple accounts, deposit boxes under different names. Marcus and House are looking into it."

---

At home, I was becoming one with my couch. I sat and stared at my wall, now full of charts and maps, names and numbers crossed out more than once. Everything we knew about this case was displayed there, with a photograph of Damien at the center of it all.

---

The second week, he hit back.

Yet another person had refused to talk. My patience was wearing thin. It was late in the evening, and Captain Morrison suggested we take a walk outside.

That was when it happened.

We heard it before we saw it. A loud boom, like an explosion.

"What was that?"

Captain Morrison turned and ran. I was behind him, Marcus bringing up the rear.

A car was engulfed in flames. I knew, instinctively, it wasn't empty.

"Oh God. It's Sarah." Morrison's voice cracked.

No. No. No.

I made for the car. Hands pulled me back.

"Let me go!" I screamed, and stumbled forward when the grip released. By the time I reached the car, people were already there with an extinguisher, beating back the flames. I didn't wait. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, barely registering the burn.

I keeled over and nearly lost my balance.

Sarah's face—half her body was turned outward, like she'd been trying to get out.

"Adrian, get back." Morrison's voice, maybe. I could barely make out words with the blood ringing in my ears.

People brushed past me, pulled her body out, set it on a stretcher, took her away. She was twisted, caught in the position she'd been turning in.

I couldn't move. I kept staring at the spot where Mrs. Chen had just been.

"Adrian, get back!" Louder this time. Someone grabbed my hand and ran, pulling me along. Seconds later, a second explosion sent us to the ground.

I turned around. Mrs. Chen's car was covered in flames again.

I broke then, and screamed, tears falling rapidly.

---

I don't remember getting home that night. Morrison handled the call to her family—I'd offered, but he'd shaken his head and told me to go. I sat on my couch until the sun came up, staring at the wall of photographs and red string, seeing nothing.

Then I threw myself into investigating, finding whatever I could.

---

The bomb was useless. Hand-made. No store to trace the parts back to. I sat with the report in my lap and felt the anger curdling into something colder.

Two days later, I knocked and stepped into Captain Morrison's office the moment I got word he was back. Information had come in about a gentleman's club Damien visited frequently, and I was going to check it out.

"No, Adrian. You can't." He looked at me from across his desk. "You're going into this with emotions. I can have someone take over the case while you get some rest."

"Mrs. Chen is dead. We need to get him. I don't need rest."

"I'm going in."