The Body at South Dock

The first thing I saw was Eli’s woven bracelet.

Blue and green threads showed beneath a security lamp, his hand lying near the wheel of a cargo trolley. The rest of him remained hidden behind two officers and a stack of damaged packing boards, but I recognized the bracelet.

I had seen it on Eli’s wrist every time we met. I moved toward the dock. Vic caught my uninjured arm and pulled me behind a row of cargo pallets.

“You cannot be seen here.”

“That’s Eli.”

“I know.”

I tried to look past him. Pain spread through the shoulder the attacker had driven against the tree, but it barely registered.

Vic lowered his voice. “Vincent Hale has a reason to answer that security alert. Sienna Blake does not.”

The logic did nothing to stop me from wanting to move.

“I need to see him.”

“You stay behind the pallets. Do not cross the barrier.”

Vic stepped into the light before I could argue. The South Service dock had already been sealed off. Security officers stood along the pier while Damien Holt kept them away from the body. A woman in dark medical trousers knelt beside Eli.

“Keep everyone behind the barrier,” she said. “No one touches anything until the scene is documented.”

Dr. Lena Cho checked Eli’s neck, then examined his wrist without moving the arm. Dark marks circled the skin beneath his bracelet.

“These are consistent with restraints.”

My fingers closed around the cracked burner phone in my pocket. Lena studied the injuries along his face and ribs, then the position of his body beside the pier.

“Was he killed here?” Vic asked.

“I can’t confirm that.” She glanced at the wet concrete beneath him. “The injuries don’t fit a simple fall, and there are signs the body may have been moved. The forensic examination will tell us more.”

Damien angled his flashlight toward the ground without crossing the barrier. A black key card lay near the trolley, untouched by the seawater around it.

“Executive access,” he said.

A damaged shipment approval rested beside the torn art-crate padding. One corner was soaked, but the initials near the authorization line remained clear.

C.A.R. Damien’s radio crackled. He listened, then swore.

“What happened?” Vic asked.

“Control checked the dock feed. The nearest camera went offline at eleven. A maintenance report was filed.”

Headlights swept across the warehouse wall. A dark vehicle turned into the service yard, and Calvin stepped out. I backed deeper into the shadows.

Calvin reached the barrier, but Damien raised a hand.

“No farther. We haven’t documented the scene yet.”

Calvin stopped. “Keep it that way. Seal every road out of South Service. Record the names of everyone on duty, and suspend all cargo departures.”

Damien pointed toward the disabled camera. “Police will want access to the full security system. 

“They’ll get the footage connected to this dock. No one enters the main network until we know who disabled that camera.”

The order sounded careful but it also gave Calvin control over what investigators would see. His gaze moved to the access card and the damaged approval. Even from the shadows, I saw his attention pause on the clean card.

“Photograph everything before it is moved,” he said.

A guilty man could protect evidence when people were watching. Eli had followed the shipment to Solara. Calvin’s initials were on the approval. A Reed executive access card had been left beside the body, and a Reed camera had failed at the right time.

Calvin was no longer only a person of interest. He was my primary suspect.

I slipped behind the warehouse before he could turn toward the pallets. Vic found me near the service road several minutes later.

“You need to go,” he said.

“I left him alone.”

His expression tightened. “You did not kill him.”

“I asked him to trust me.”

Vic stepped closer, blocking the dock lights from my face. The anger from earlier was gone.

“Then we finish what he started.”

I nodded and took out the burner phone. The cracked screen still showed the truck plate and the EAST label.

“Send copies, then get back to Reed House,” he said. “I’ll stay here and watch the scene.”

I sent the photographs to our secure account and headed uphill.

By the time I reached Reed House, morning light had begun to spread across the eastern windows. Dirt marked my clothes, my shoulder throbbed, and the bruises around my throat had darkened.

I locked the burner phone inside my luggage, cleaned the blood from the scrape near my jaw, and changed into a fresh shirt. I lay down for a while, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw Eli beneath the white sheet at South Service.

Rest was useless.

I returned to the kitchen and started my morning duties. Moving kept my mind occupied, even if each reach and turn pulled at my injured shoulder. I wiped the counters, prepared coffee, and began making breakfast.

The coffee had just finished brewing when a vehicle stopped outside. A moment later, the front door opened.

“Sienna?” Calvin called.

“I’m here.”

He appeared at the far end, still wearing the dark shirt and trousers he had worn at the dock. His gaze passed over my clean shirt, then stopped at the scrape near my jaw and the bruises darkening around my throat.

“What happened to your neck?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the service garden for air. I slipped on the path. My collar caught on a low branch when I fell, and I landed on my shoulder.”

Calvin came closer. “A branch did that?”

“My collar pulled tight before it tore free.”

I returned to the kitchen and reached for the coffee pot. Pain pulled through my shoulder.

“You should have reported the fall.”

“It didn’t seem serious.”

“It looks serious now.”

I set the pot down before the tremor reached the cup.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

“No, you’re injured.” His attention stayed on me. “And you’re lying.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

“The security system recorded the service door opening,” he continued. “A staff cart assigned to this house was found near South Service.”

I faced him. “Then maybe someone else took it.”

I turned toward the stove, but his hand closed lightly around my wrist. He did not pull me back. The contact alone stopped me.

“Let go.”

He released me at once. I took one step, and pain tightened across my shoulder. My hand moved toward it before I could stop myself.

“Your shoulder needs to be checked,” he said.

“I can manage.”

“I don’t believe that either.”

He reached toward the scrape beside my jaw. I caught his wrist before his fingers touched my skin. For a moment, neither of us moved.

The position brought Apollo back too clearly, my hand on him, his body close to mine, his mouth taking over a kiss that had begun as a lie. His gaze dropped to my lips before returning to my eyes.

“I think you were near South Service,” he said. “I want to know why.”

“I told you where I went.”

“No.” His voice lowered. “You told me where you wanted me to think you went. That is the second time you have lied to my face.”

I held his gaze. “Excuse me?”

His eyes moved to my mouth again.

“You told me we had never met.”