“Clarke! There you are!” Ironheel turned around and greeted Adam as we walked through the door with a warm smile and laugh. “Any luck?” He asked.

“It took a bit, but yeah.” Adam held up the dainty rose-gold necklace. “A woman named Natalia Murphey gave me this. She said it was from her ex-boyfriend Mickey Andrews. MA.”

Monica and Ironheel gaped at the locket.

“Is that?”

Monica ripped it from Adam’s grasp and held it up to the light, examining it closely with twinkling azure eyes.

“It is! Ironheel, look! It’s the same necklace!” She opened the locket and peered at the pictured man inside. His gaunt cheeks and thinning hair matched the other. “It’s the same man too!” She shrieked.

“Same what? She said that was her boyfriend.”

“So this is Mickey Andrews?” Monica asked.

“I’d assume so.”

Ironheel sauntered over and looked over Monica’s shoulder at the locket.

“Well, I be damned?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Adam inquired, dumbfounded.

“Well, do you think he’s the killer?” Moncia said turning to the inspector, ignoring Adam’s question.

“We can’t say yet but this is certainly enough to at least detain and question the man. Clarke, did she tell you where he can be found?”

Adam brought his hand to his chin. “She told me he worked at a place called. Max’s Carpentry. She even wrote down the address.” He said pulling the thin slip from his pocket. “It’s right her-” Ironheel snatched it from his hand.

“2401 East Lockwood.” He read. This is about an hour away from the Yard. Ironheel looked over at the clock, a half past two. Unfortunately, it’s a bit late. We can go there first thing tomorrow. His gaze shifted towards Monica, placing a giant hand on each shoulder.

“It seems you were right all along, Miss Moore! Your investigating skills saved the day. We might have found our killer!” He boomed. “You set a great example for your peers, Miss Moore!”

“But I’m the one who found the evidence and the address!” His voice tinged with frustration. Once again, he was ignored.

“Say,” Ironheel said looking around the room. “Where’s Hans at?”

“He’s not here?”

“No, you guys were supposed to work together!”

“I’m sure he’ll show up.”

“He better!” Ironheel scolded. “You can take a page out of Moore’s book, Clarke!”

Adam sighed.

“If Shorty doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes go looking. Other than that I have more business for you two today. Good work! I have some work to attend to at the station.”

Ironheel sauntered out the door and down the darkness-drowned street.

“Hey.”

Adam turned around. He was greeted by Monica. She stood smiling with her hands held behind her back.

“Good job!” She praised.

“Thanks.” He replied with a dismissive tone. “You seem to be popular here.”

Monica giggled warmly. “Maybe so! I worked with most of these bobbies for years. What about you, how long you’ve been a detective?”

“Oh, a few years. Because of my father’s connections, I was promoted to detective right away. Never actually had to do any of the work.”

“Ha! You got a shortcut didn’t you?”

“Sure did.”

She laughed again and scooted closer towards Adam.

“So, what happened with Detective Hans?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Why’d he leave?”

“Oh. Just an argument.” Adam responded curtly.

“Ah, I thought he did something.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know.” She said, shuffling her feet oddly. “He seems suspicious. I don’t know why the Yard would hire a person like that.”

“He does good work.”

“Maybe so. But nobody comes from nowhere.”

The duo quieted and listened to the typewriter clicks of the diligent bobbies.

“So, I guess I should ask. What the hell were you two talking about earlier?”

“Ah, the locket thing? Well, we found two identical necklaces to the one you found today. Both were found on two separate bodies. Same picture and everything. Picture of Mickey Andrews.”

“Why would he give out multiple necklaces to several different women with the same picture of his face inside then go on to kill them?”

“We don’t know the motive yet, but all evidence points to this Mickey Andrews.”

Adam thought to himself for a few moments. A feeling of doubt grew in his mind.

“I mean why would he? He could’ve just taken the necklaces after killing them. It had a picture of his face after all. It seems too perfect.” He met Monica’s gaze. “Maybe they were planted.”

Monica guffawed. Placing her thin hands over her mouth.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“You are too funny! We have all the evidence in the world to incriminate a man and now you doubt it?”

Adam was silent.

“Evidence dictates the law, not opinion. As things stand, Mickey Andrews is the only known suspect so he is who we shall arrest. If more evidence comes up, then obviously there would be some reconsidering but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Hmm.” He still wasn’t convinced.

“Well, I best be going.” She added. “If Hans doesn’t return feel free to write me, I’ll help find him! She waved goodbye and left without another word.

Adam sat on the curb outside the Yard, his eyes scanning the street for any sign of Cecil. The flickering gas lamps cast eerie shadows through the dense fog that clung to the city, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. Each passing carriage heightened his anxiety, but none bore his friend. The longer he waited, the more his worry grew.

The oppressive darkness seemed to press down on him Just then, he heard the approaching sound of footsteps approaching through the fog. They stopped directly in front of him. Adam looked up to see Cecil standing there, his face half-hidden in the dim light.

"Did you walk all the way here?" Adam asked, his voice edged with concern.

"No," Cecil replied calmly. "I had some errands to attend to down the street."

"That took three hours?" Adam's skepticism was clear.

"That's not all I did." Cecil reached into his breast pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. "These are the names of the next possible victims, in no particular order."

Adam took the paper, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

Unfolding the list, he read.

Charlotte Evans, Amelia Thompson, Olivia Wright, Alice Lotusburg, Emily Baker, Isabella Harrison, Natalia Murphy, Grace Turner, Sophia Wilson, Lily Mitchell

"Is this a joke? Where did you get this?" Adam's eyes searched Cecil's face for answers.

"It's a long story," Cecil said, avoiding the question.

"Are you going to tell me?" Adam pressed.

"I promise it's not important."

"Yeah, sure. Ironheel is going to want to see this."

"I know," Cecil conceded.

Adam examined the list again before handing it back.

"I met Natalia Murphy today."

"Then she's a prostitute and might get killed if this case isn't solved," Cecil said bluntly.

Adam didn’t really know what to say to this. Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to his head.

"There's something else," Cecil added, pulling a tarnished locket from his jacket.

Adam sighed deeply. "God damn it."

"Familiar then? It seems to be a marker for the victims."

"But not all of them had one," Adam pointed out.

Cecil shrugged, and a heavy silence settled between them.

"Look, Cecil, I'm sorry about earlier," Adam said, breaking the quiet.

Cecil didn't respond.

"I don't really know what came over me. I was just tired and upset. So—I don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's not that big of a deal, pretty boy. I already forgot about it," Cecil finally said.

"Oh." Adam looked down, feeling a mixture of relief and awkwardness.

Cecil chuckled. "It'd do you good not to overthink so much."

"Your snobbish attitude is starting to get on my nerves," Adam retorted, though there was no real malice in his voice.

"Ha! Who's the snob, rich boy?" Cecil shot back with a grin.

"Whatever,"

Cecil yawned. “I’m gonna head home.”

"Not yet,” Adam said standing up. “We need to talk.”

"Alright.”

Adam began walking down the street, signaling Cecil to follow, the cold air settling in their bones.

“I think there’s more to this case than we think.” Adam began.

“Oh. This isn’t the talk I thought it was going to be.”

“I’m serious, I want you to listen. I mean what kind of murderer leaves a memento of their face in a locket on a bunch of victims they murder? It’s not logical.

“Murderers don’t tend to be logical people.”

“I know that! But this seems like too big of a screw-up.”

“What are you suggesting? Framing.”

“I don’t know. But it’s weird how a bunch of victims have the lockets but a lot don’t. That list you gave me had potential victims. If you are crazy, then that’s still missing a big chunk of a killer’s preferred victims. The list was all women. But the killer murders both women and minorities. If he marks some victims with a locket then what about the other non-marked woman? Or the men?”

“Perhaps it’s multiple people.”

“Could be. But that still wouldn’t explain who and why one would leave a photo of their or someone else’s face at the crime scene.”

“You bring up a good point there.”

“I explained this to Monica, she got super defensive.”

“You think she’s sideways?”

“I don’t think so. She seems really dedicated to this whole ‘justice’ thing. But I don’t know.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes actually. She said you were suspicious, which is true. What do you have planned?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, my dear Adam.”

Adam stopped in his tracks turning and grasping Cecil by both shoulders.

“I’m being serious! I’ll report you both if I have to!”

“There’s nothing to worry about, good lord, you are quite uptight.”

“I-I’m so sorry things have just been so stressful.”

Cecil pried a hand off his shoulder.

“Someone could use a break.” He giggled. “Or I could help you mellow out.”

Adam gaped at Cecil. His sharp ocean-blue eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, his perfectly styled hair falling in soft waves that framed his face exquisitely. That infuriatingly charming smirk played on his lips—a look Adam had grown to both loathe and crave. The day's chaos spun in Adam's mind: thirteen murders, four lockets, and the most mesmerizing man he had ever encountered.

Every logical part of Adam's brain screamed to focus on the mission, that this was wrong, to push aside the distracting allure of this near-stranger. Yet, Cecil had a way of burrowing under his skin. Adam leaned in closer, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them.

He heard Cecil's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with anticipation as they met Adam's. His resolve crumbled, his need overpowering all else. He closed the remaining distance, their lips brushing together in a tantalizingly soft kiss.

Adam's hand trembled as he delicately cupped Cecil's face, his thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. Time seemed to stand still in those blissful moments, their connection deepening with every second. The kiss, tender and exploratory, felt like an eternity yet ended all too soon.

They pulled back, breathless, their eyes still locked in a heated gaze. Adam's heart pounded in his chest, every inch of his body alight with the intensity of their brief, electrifying contact. Cecil’s shocked and wanting gaze softened as he let out a laugh as he straightened his lapels

“When I said I could help you ‘mellow out’ I meant take you out for a drink, nothing more. But I think your idea was better.”

“Oh my god.”

Adam quickly shoved Cecil away by his chest and placed a trembling hand over his mouth.

“It’s fi-”

“No! It’s not! It’s wrong, It’s illegal!”

Adam didn’t know what to do with himself. He finally knew what he truly wanted. What he’s been running from all his life. Cecil was all he could think about. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. What was so wrong about love?

Adam was broken out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around. Cecil was smiling at him softly.

“It’s ok,” Cecil told him in a tone softer than he had ever heard him speak in.

Adam looked away, “It’s not normal,” He whispered barely audibly.

“Who cares?” Cecil asked with a smirk. “Though, maybe not a thing to do in public.” He removed his hand but leaned in close.

“We can always finish this at my apartment.” He suggested. “Do you have petroleum jelly?”

“What? Oh! No, no we aren’t doing that. It’s late and I’m tired.”

“Aw,” Cecil replied with disappointment. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about all of that.” He said with a reddening face. “But I should get going. Make sure to give the evidence to Ironheel tomorrow.”

“Will do.”