New day; new case. We were standing in the Lieutenant’s office opposite her desk. In my mind’s eye, I saw the last time I stood here pleading my case, begging to come back to work. My father was freshly underground, barely having been laid to rest, and I was a mess; that part still hadn’t changed. With everything that had gone down with the Neo Luminaries, I was still coming apart at the seams, but I wasn’t about to back down without a fight.

Lieutenant Blackwood wore that same unreadable expression she always did, scrutinizing us from behind her wireframe glasses. Déjà vu. I had a knack for getting myself worked up. And what could I say? I just couldn’t stand sitting still. It was simultaneously both my best and worst quality.

However, there was one saving grace to having to do this song and dance another time, this time the three of us were a united front. We ran her through the finer details, our personal connection, and how I belonged back on the streets protecting this city. While I spoke, I felt a fire burn within me. It wasn’t an explosive flame. No, it was the kind that smoldered, the kind that looked snuffed out until you poked and prodded it, it was the kind that stubbornly spat out fresh embers two seconds from lights out, almost to spite you, refusing to die.

Finally, she unclasped her hands and adjusted her glasses to peer at us from over them.

“I would tell you that this case is beneath you, troubled youth are a dime a dozen, and that your efforts are both misguided and inefficient. I could also add that it is a waste of both our resources and your talents, but I see your mind has already been made,” she said, adjusting her glasses and reclasping her hands together on top of her desk. “That’s quite enough. I see no reason to delay this any further. Do what you must and report back to me when you’re satisfied. You are free to go.”

Simple. Fast. Efficient. That was the way she liked it, and it was a sentiment we shared as well. We smiled in satisfaction as we turned to leave. The door slammed shut with a click of the latch.

“That was easy,” I mused. “Maybe I should lose an arm more often.”

“Don’t,” Ethan groaned, with a hint of warning in his voice. “Don’t even joke about that.”

I shrugged, my smirk still on my face while my heart twinged inside my chest. Gabe tried to wipe the smile from his face too. He meant well; he was just happy to see me starting to act like my old self again. That made two of us. I was starting to feel alive again. Silently, I prayed that was a trend that would last.

“So, what’s the first order of business?” I asked, turning to Ethan.

“You’re asking me?” he sighed. “I thought this case was your baby.”

Touche, I earned that one, but I had a bad habit of making a joke out of my life and it was a bad habit I wasn’t willing to give up, at least not yet.

“Point taken,” I said and addressed Gabe next instead. “What are you thinking, Gabe?”

“How about that food pantry your brother volunteers at?” he said. “Bet the place’s got some people happy to help.”

Noah wanted us to look into a girl whose last name he didn’t even know. The food pantry was our only real lead. Ethan looked down at his wrist, noting the time.

“We’re ahead of schedule,” he said. “While you two take care of that, I’ll head back to the lab and see what I can find out on my end.”

“Sounds good,” I said and strolled down the hall as fast as could reasonably be considered walking. Once we were both down and seated in our cruiser, the scent of stale leather and burnt coffee greeted me again like old friends. Some things change, some things stay the same. I smiled with the small comfort of returning to where I belonged with a bit of familiarity. Once we were back on the streets, we were fighting the demons the good people kept in their closets.

Our Irises lit up with a notification from Ethan.

“Looks like Ethan got the name and address for us,” I said.

Our destination took us from well-maintained roads and straight into the cracked and pothole ridden streets that belonged to the most struggling members of our society. It was a wonder how our suspension survived it, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was nearly nauseous by the time we rolled up to the front of the food pantry. The sign that hung over the entrance read, “Mother Teresa’s Food Pantry.” Walking through the door reminded me of the words transcribed on the Statue of Liberty, ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’

The interior was modest and clean, excluding the wear on the floor where the linoleum had been rubbed away by years of the same footpath being taken again and again. It snaked around the room along the fronts of shelves filled with food.

Towards the back, three elderly women were working hard at work stocking shelves and helping customers. They had just finished helping a young family when we made our way to the back and flashed our badges.

“Not to trouble you ladies, but we’ve got a few questions to ask,” Gabe said.

They chuckled at him.

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“And what can we do for you young man?” the first woman asked, adjusting her spectacles.

“Did you hear that?” Gabe smirked, nudging my side with his elbow. “I’m a young man.”

“Good for you Gabe,” I said. “Why don’t you handle those three while I look for the priest? Catch up with me when you can.”

“Father Lewis should be in the parish,” the second woman said as I walked past her.

The double doors in the back of the hallway swung open as I pressed through them. Now back outside, I was greeted by the faint scent of exhaust in the wind and the noise of the busy city. The church looked quaint and out of place among the otherwise modern architecture. After making my way through another set of double doors, I found myself inside of a Catholic church for the first time since my youth. The light filtered through the stained-glass windows and cast colorful patterns on the floor; it was just the way I remembered it, down to the unshakable silence of the insulated walls. The only sound was the clicking of my heels against the stone floor, and I grimaced with every step that seemed strangely intrusive in the house of God.

Facing the altar, a man with grey streaked hair had his head lowered in prayer, his cassock pooled around his form. His eyes were closed, but my footsteps roused him, and he turned to meet me. The first thing I noticed were his eyes; they were the eyes of a man who had seen too much. I knew those eyes because I had them too. Those who have been through hell and back always recognized their kin. He was a man providing sanctuary for the broken, the weak, and the damned, and I was the last line of defense against a rotten city falling apart at the seams; we were both trying to save the lost souls in our own way.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Father, but I’m here about Cassie,” I said, flashing him my badge.

At the mention of her name, he furrowed his brows and looked downward in introspection. “So, then it has come to this,” he said, taking a deep breath to center himself. “Cassandra Weddell… yes. I’m familiar with her. Her family is one of the families assisted through our food pantry.”

Now that made me pause, the way I saw his body tense told me more than what he had said. Although, it was good to have a name to put to her face. Our mystery girl, Cassie, was now Cassandra Weddel; that was something we could plug into the database. Ethan would be pleased.

“Has something happened to her?” he asked.

“We don’t know yet, but we’re looking into it. At the moment, we are investigating it on an anonymous tip,” I said. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Ah, of course,” he said.

It was practiced – the way his pain flashed and faded on his face almost instantaneously. That was the demeanor of a man who had been trained to hide his emotions at all costs. I saw it often in criminals, but even with the upstanding members of society, there were many who showed the same pattern. After all, there were also secrets innocuously hidden behind white picket fences and carefully curated images: broken people playing happy, smiling families. For me, it had become second nature to shove away my feelings both so deeply and so efficiently that I didn’t even notice.

Father Lewis sighed, lowering his gaze once more. “There are many people who come to us for assistance; and we do not turn them away anyone in need of help. Due to our proximity, a lot of families we serve come from the Elect of Abstantia. Cassandra is a member as well.”

“And is that relevant?” I asked, scrutinizing his admission, reading between the lines.

“I believe that is your realm of expertise, Detective, not mine,” he said with the composure expected of a man of the cloth. “I am not as familiar with them as you might think. They are very private people.”

With a wave of my hand, I pulled up some data on The Elect of Abstinentia. They were a small, impoverished sect that kept to itself, turning away from all the progress that humanity had made in the last several hundred years. Some people considered them strange or undesirable, others admired the strength it took to reject society, settling on living quietly in their own communes as everyone else did circles around them. These days, some of them begrudgingly allowed their children to attend public school. Traditionally, all the children were homeschooled, but times were tough and the space for people who refused to learn to navigate modern technology shrank with every passing day.

“Can you tell me the last time you saw her?”

“I believe it was a few weeks ago,” he said.

“Was there anything different about her? Did she seem distressed?”

“No,” he said, taken aback. "She was in a good mood. I thought things might have been turning around for her."

She was happy—that was either a very good sign or a very bad one. On one hand, it could mean that Noah overreacted and the girl was fine; no harm, no foul, and we'd get ourselves a new case. On the other hand, it could mean she stumbled into something new and exciting, and new and exciting could mean trouble. Perhaps a predator promised to save her from her miserable home life. Whisk her away to something better. There was also the ironic twist of fate that individuals who contemplated taking their own lives tended to be in higher spirits shortly before ending it all.

“Can you tell me anything else, Father?” I asked. “Friends? Connections? Anyone that she might have gone to for help or recreation?”

Father Lewis shook his head.

“She hardly ever spoke. Despite how much time I spent with her, there was not much I knew of her life outside of her visits to our food pantry.”

Behind me, the heavy doors to the church creaked open. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Gabe. If you knew someone long enough, you would eventually memorize even the sound of their steps; it was in their gait, the way they walked. Ethan, Gabe, and Noah—if they approached me, I'd know it was them before even looking up.

“Glad you could join us, Gabe,” I said. “Don't worry, he’s with me. Allow me to introduce you to my partner, Detective Gabriel Grant.”

He came to stand beside me and flashed his badge. After a quick nod, we were back to business.

“Can you think of anything else that might be noteworthy?” I asked.

There was a short pause as he soaked in our words, closing his eyes in quiet contemplation.

“She was a troubled child,” he said. “There were times she would come sit with me while her family was busy, and I would keep her company, but our conversations were often one-sided... Perhaps the others at the parish could be of more help to you.”

Gabe gave me a knowing look. It seemed like he had more luck than me with the women from the food pantry. I wasn't surprised; no one loved to gossip more than pensioners.

As we turned to leave, Father Lewis called out.

“Detectives,” he said. “I'll pray for her. May God keep her safe, and you two as well.”

I glanced back over my shoulder.

“Of course, you’ll hear from us if we find anything."

Once we were down the nave and the doors had swung shut behind us, we were shoved back into the chaos of modern life, far away from the sanctuary of the church’s interior.

“We need to get to her before someone else does,” I muttered. “If someone else hasn’t already. What did you find out?”

“Might've gotten us a lead,” he said. “Ladies their age love to talk.”

“Oh, I bet,” I said. “Tell me all about it.”