ㅤㅤI couldn't mask my surprise as she approached, and the soft look on her face shifted to subtle concern the moment she noticed. "Hey, how are you holding up?" she asked gently. Her tone was innocent, yet it grated on me in a way I couldn't quite place. I knew she meant well—just checking in—but maybe that was the problem. She had every reason to believe I needed it. Even I couldn't deny that I wasn't the most predictable—or stable—person around, not after everything that's fucked me over. "M?" she called out to me. "You've been spacing out, haven't you? You look really worn out." I couldn't help but wonder how bad I must look for her to comment on it, but it was probably written all over my face. "Don't worry, you're still dashing." Between that and her earlier unexpected appearance, her words left me momentarily breathless. The fleeting look on her face made it clear she hadn't intended to say it out loud, leaving us trapped in an awkward silence that neither of us seemed ready to break.

ㅤㅤAfter a moment to gather myself, I managed a casual, "Thanks." But when her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a deep red, I quickly clarified, "For bringing my stuff. You didn't have to." Her gaze dropped to the white tiles beneath us. "Sure. It was no problem," she murmured softly. The silence that followed felt different—less awkward, more like there simply wasn't anything left to say. At least, nothing I could think of. "Sorry, but maybe we can catch up another time? We're in the middle of an investigation," I said, offering her a small, apologetic smile. "I'll give you a call." I hoped the promise would ease her as I excused myself and stepped away. I gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning and signaling to Lloyd, who stood waiting patiently in the distance—just like the case that was waiting on us.

ㅤㅤBy the time the elevator brought us to the underground parking lot, Lloyd broke the silence. "Your friend's got it out for me—gave me that look, like she doesn't trust me." I hadn't noticed anything, but with my back to her earlier, it wasn't surprising. "Just ignore it," I replied. "I doubt you'll have to deal with her much." He glanced at me sideways before offering a nonchalant shrug. "Fair enough. So, are you driving or should I take the wheel?" he asked, holding up the key as we reached the police cruiser. "You drive. I need to go through that holo-disc you gave me," I said, opening the door and sliding into the seat as he did the same. "Didn't think you'd actually bother reading it," he said, a hint of honesty in his tone as he started the engine. I gave him a once-over, sizing him up. He didn't seem like someone who'd openly slack off, but he had the air of someone who'd take things easy whenever he could. I just hoped he'd know when to drop that attitude and step up when it really mattered.

ㅤㅤAs he drove us to the crime scene and I finished going over the holo-disc, I set it aside and finally glanced out the window, letting my eyes take in the towering, pristine skyscrapers that stretched nearly endlessly into the sky. "First time in the rich part of the city?" Lloyd's voice broke the silence, drawing my attention. I glanced at him, his eyes steady on the road ahead. "Not that I'd blame you. Before you, me, or even the captain, this place didn't need cops like us. Everyone's got their own private security teams, so honestly—what good are we to them, right?" I stayed quiet, thinking about it. "Then how did they handle cases like murder—the case we're on—before us?" I asked, but he was just as clueless as I was. "Beats me. They'd probably dump the body somewhere out of sight, then just push the narrative that their part of the city is crime-free—all smiles and shiny faces."

ㅤㅤJust as he finished speaking, he gestured toward a towering skyscraper and pulled the car to the curb. "That's our crime scene," he said, cutting the engine. The low hum of the exhaust faded, replaced by the chaotic symphony of the city around us. "Excuse me, but you're not allowed-" began a man, a valet, as he approached us. His words faltered, however, the moment his eyes locked onto mine—he must have recognized me from the news. "We're here on official business, and we won't be long. Besides, wouldn't the sight of a police cruiser reassure the tenants in this building and ease any worried minds?" Lloyd said, his tone calm but persuasive as he reasoned with the valet.

ㅤㅤThe valet stood firm, though the beads of sweat on his brow betrayed his unease under our scrutiny. Before he could stammer another protest, a well-dressed man stepped in with an air of practiced authority—the kind that screamed he was either tied to the case, a neighboring tenant, or just a pompous rich asshole. "Mr. Wade, it's fine. I'll handle this personally. I'm sure the other tenants won't object—after all, as the officer said, their presence is reassuring, whether it's their car or their company." I studied him carefully, my gaze steady until he met it with a polite smile. "Ah, forgive my manners," he said with practiced ease. "David Johnson—a close friend of the victim in your case. It's comforting to see justice in action, and fascinating to witness the law embodied by its officers."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

ㅤㅤLloyd and I shared a puzzled glance, silently asking, 'What's this guy's deal?' He caught on almost immediately and offered a quick explanation. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's been ages—or maybe never—that I've seen a police officer in person. Or anyone I know, for that matter. So, pardon me if I seem a little overly excited." David offered a bow, and Lloyd took the opportunity to silently mouth to me, 'He's nuts.'

ㅤㅤ"I see. In that case, would you mind answering a few questions?" I asked as he straightened up, his chest puffed out with confidence. "Absolutely," he replied, almost too eager for my liking—especially when a close friend of his just died. "You sure you don't mind standing out here for this? Looks like it might be a bit too cold for you," Lloyd cut in, slipping his hands into the deep pockets of his black bomber jacket, a twin to mine. Lloyd smirked as David failed to hide a shiver. "Yes, I suppose we should step inside and make ourselves comfortable," David said, his smile unfaltering, his tone effortlessly polite. He gestured for us to follow, leading the way with the valet quietly trailing behind.

ㅤㅤLloyd let out a low whistle as we stepped inside, and even I had to pause, momentarily taken aback by the sheer extravagance of the lobby. At its center hung a massive, ornate chandelier, so grandiose it seemed almost stupid—large enough that, if it fell, it might take the entire building down with it. "Pretty, isn't it?" David's eyes gleamed with pride as he glanced back at us over his shoulder. "Sure," I said, my tone flat now that I was over the initial awe. "Mr. Johnson, can you show us to Michael Angelini's unit?" I interrupted just before he could start mouthing off again. The idle chatter was wearing thin, and honestly, I could tell even Lloyd was eager to cut through it and get down to business.

ㅤㅤInstead of looking hurt or offended, his face lit up. "Of course, right this way." By now, I was already skeptical, and while I knew Lloyd was too, he hid it fairly well. As we followed him, David led us to the elevators and called one through the button as we trailed behind. While we waited, the soft music playing in the lobby wasn't breaking the silence; if anything, it seemed to make it louder, more noticeable. The awkwardness was thick, and while I believe I could tolerate awkward moments, this one felt unbearable, like staring directly into its glaring spotlight. "After you, officers," he said with a slight wave, gesturing to the open lift doors.

ㅤㅤOnce we were inside, he stepped in after us, pulling a card from his suit and tapping it against a scanner. Only then did he press the button for the floor, and the elevator began its ascent. 'So, they do have some level of security,' I mused silently, while I took a mental note. "Mr. Johnson, is there a staircase here that leads to all the floors—like a fire exit?" I asked, my tone deliberately casual, carefully masking any hint of suspicion he might catch. "There is, but it's locked. You can only open it either from the security control room, where the guards keep watch, or by drilling through it—but that would create a lot of noise and instantly alert security."

ㅤㅤHe looked at me the same way he had since our first meeting—cooperative, smiling, with that practiced facade of servitude glinting in his eyes. As the elevator doors slid open and we arrived at the floor, he stepped out first. "What do you think, Lloyd?" I asked. His response mirrored my own thoughts. "From what he's said, it’s either someone on this floor or someone in the security team who tampered with the system. They could’ve looped the camera feed and unlocked the door. There’s still plenty of room for speculation." I let out a weary sigh, my mind juggling the weight of the case and the funeral. 'I’m so tired,' I thought as we trailed behind him.