I opened the door and slid into the back seat, closing it behind me. Jane was beside me, while James sat in the front passenger seat. Leo was adjusting the rearview mirror in the driver’s seat. He looked a lot better now; a few small bandages on his face, and his clothes were fresh. Jane and James also seemed to have gotten some rest before coming to the station; they looked sharp and ready.

"Here," Jane said, handing me my service pistol and magazine. "The forensics team managed to recover this from Tidbit."

I took the gun, checking that the safety was on and that the chamber was empty, then slid the magazine in. "Thanks," I said. "They didn't find anything else in Tidbit, right?"

"Nope," Leo replied, backing the car out of the parking lot. "That place is done for—blown to pieces."

"How are you feeling now?" James asked, throwing a quick glance at me through the mirror.

"Better," I said, securing my gun in the holster. "Oh, and Jane, thanks for making that creamy tomato pasta for my mom."

Jane smiled. "It’s her favorite. By the way, how come your name is Crana-lalala or whatever, and your mom's is just Eve?"

I shrugged. "Don't ask. Have no idea."

"Pfft—Crana-lalala," Leo chuckled as he shifted gears, getting us on the road.

I cracked open the window and glanced outside. A few cops were busy clearing the homeless from the streets. Most of them looked frail and shivering from the cold. One of them, if I wasn't mistaken, seemed to have passed away overnight. The sight was grim, yet some bystanders were recording the scene on their phones—some smirking, others pretending to look concerned when they knew the camera was on them. It was obvious they weren't locals from West Antapolis. People from here didn’t bother with theatrics; they simply walked past the suffering without a second glance, too numb to care anymore.

“Heh—” Leo said. “Have you seen this ad yet? It’s so idiotic.”

“Hmm?”

Above us, a neon ad flickered on a nearby megabuilding. The glowing lights showed a car speeding straight toward a wall. Just before impact, the driver inexplicably flew through the windshield, and then, a split second later, the car crashed into the wall. The scene shifted to a woman in business attire, her expression professional yet playful.

“He exploded too early, the car didn’t even touch the wall. Don’t worry, we can fix that,” she said with a wink, pulling a pack of condoms from her pocket. "Wrap yourself with Dickus. Don’t explode too early, champ."

Leo shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "We're almost there," he said, eyes back on the road. "Her place is just a couple of blocks from our station."

James gave a nod. "Good. At least we won’t have to deal with this traffic much longer."

Jane let out a chuckle mixed with disbelief. "Dickus... What kind of ad is that? These things are getting crazier by the day."

“Yeah, the 18+ ads are supposed to run from eleven at night to five in the morning. No idea why this one's still playing,” James said, shaking his head in amusement.

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“Yeah.” Leo said. “As if the only problem in West Antapolis is the ads.”

—

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the high-rise where Miranda and her husband lived. Entering the underground garage through the building's back entrance, we parked near the elevator. The place was pristine, lit with a soft, yellow glow that highlighted the rows of luxury vehicles. High-end cars gleamed in their spots, each polished to perfection—sleek Mieno C55s, chrome-coated sedans, and a few rare models that screamed wealth and exclusivity.

Leo gave a low whistle, pocketing the keys as he twirled around in awe. “Man, these people are loaded,” he said, eyes wide with disbelief. “This is insane.”

“Is that a Mieno C55?” James pointed to one of the cars, his voice tinged with envy. “That thing costs a small fortune.”

Jane was already by the elevator, rolling her eyes. “Come on, guys. We’ll drool over the cars later.”

We stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the 78th floor. Leo immediately pulled out his phone to check the news, Jane leaned back, arms crossed, watching the door, and James did a quick inspection of his gun, making sure it was ready. I stood there, zoning out, my gaze fixed on the small TV above the door where, of course, another ad played. There was no escaping ads in West Antapolis; they followed you everywhere, even into the most mundane moments.

After a couple of minutes, the elevator dinged, and we stepped out onto the 78th floor. The hallway was immaculate, with cleaning robots buzzing along the floor, scrubbing away even the tiniest specks of dust. The walls were adorned with elegant, minimalist designs, and the windows were equipped with interactive displays that allowed you to zoom in and get a detailed view of the streets far below. The air felt fresher here, almost as if you were above the pollution and chaos of the city.

“This must be what heaven looks like,” James said as he took in the view.

“Yeah,” Jane agreed, peering out the window. “We’re so close to the sky, we might as well be in heaven.”

“Wait, which room was Miranda's again?” Leo asked, scratching his head.

Jane furrowed her brows, thinking. “Was it 78-8?”

“78-18,” James corrected with a nod.

“Right, 78-18,” Jane said, and we continued down the hall.

We reached the door labeled 7818, and Leo pressed the bell, stepping back to wait. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. I stepped closer, pressing my ear to the door. Faintly, from a distant room, I heard a dog barking incessantly. Other than that, the apartment seemed quiet.

“What do you hear?” Jane asked.

“Just a dog, barking its head off,” I replied.

James took a more direct approach, banging on the door. “Miranda! Open up! Police! We’ve got questions for you about the case!”

Silence.

Jane gave it a shot, her voice firm. “We have a warrant, Miranda. Open the door!”

Suddenly, the door next to us creaked open, revealing a little girl, no older than seven. She blinked up at us with wide eyes. “My sister’s sleeping,” she said in a small voice. “Please be quiet.”

Jane softened her expression, crouching down to the girl’s eye level. “Hey, sweetie. We’re police officers. Do you know Miranda, your neighbor?”

The girl nodded but then hesitated. “My mom says I should ask for ID when someone says they’re police.”

“Smart mom,” Leo said, pulling out his badge and showing it to her with a grin. “Do you know if Miranda went out this morning?”

“I don’t think so,” the girl replied, frowning. “But I’m not sure.”

“Do you know a way we could get into Miranda’s apartment?” James asked, almost desperate.

“She’s just a kid,” Jane whispered to him. “How would she know that?”

The girl looked thoughtful for a second, then said, “Our balconies are connected. You could try going in that way.”

James shot Jane a triumphant smile. “Bite me, Jane.”

The girl let us into her apartment, and we carefully followed her to the kitchen balcony. As she opened the sliding door, we stepped outside.

“There,” she said, pointing to the connected balcony.

“Thank you,” Jane said with a smile.

“Can I have some money?” the girl asked, blushing a bit. “I helped you, right?”

Leo chuckled, pulling out his wallet and handing her $250. “You’re a good kid.”

After she left, I reached out and turned the doorknob of Miranda’s balcony door, which was surprisingly unlocked. I stepped inside cautiously, only to be met with a sight that stopped me cold.

Miranda lay sprawled on the floor, her body surrounded by a pool of blood. A single bullet wound marked her head—a clean, precise kill. We all froze, the air thick with the shock of realization.

“Well, fuck a duck,” Leo muttered, breaking the silence. “Our only suspect is dead. Yay.”