Crimson Ties

Slowly closing Captain's office door, Vince mulled over the faint shift in his captain's demeanor. That slight tension when Vince brought up the kidnappings, the subtle tightening of Simon's jaw—indicators of irritation? Maybe. Or deflection. The man was usually a master of stoicism, but today, there'd been cracks.

His mind worked through it quickly. Simon's tone—too dismissive. The shuffle of papers—distraction or avoidance? His refusal to engage on deeper questions—an anomaly but he hid it very, very well. Vince knew his captain better than most. Something was off.

He leaned against the nearest wall, letting his thoughts settle for a moment. Simon had always been a steady constant in the whirlwind of BBPD. Six years on the job—partners and rookies cycled in and out like seasons, but Simon remained. They'd weathered their share of chaos together: gang wars, high-profile murders, even a serial case that nearly broke the precinct.

Simon had been his mentor when Vince first joined as a wide-eyed detective, always the no-nonsense anchor in their stormy city. He was sharp, grounded, and knew how to navigate the complexities of Bog Bay's underbelly. But now? Now, there were shadows.

Vince's stomach tightened. Simon wasn't just hiding something; he was losing the trust Vince had placed in him. That gnawed at him more than anything else—or maybe it was just Vince being too doubtful.

He straightened, shaking off the gnawing thoughts about Simon as he recalled James's earlier instruction to return to the dispatch room. The precinct buzzed with its usual rhythm, though the atmosphere felt heavier than usual, tense, like a wire pulled taut.

As he made his way down the hall, a commotion by one of the interrogation rooms caught his attention. A young officer, face set in grim determination, was wheeling a nondescript suitcase into the room. Vince slowed his pace, his sharp eyes flicking over the scene.

The suitcase itself told him enough. Sturdy, worn in places, its edges scraped, a tool of practicality but not travel. Its contents? He didn't need to guess. Vince's stomach didn't twist, he had done worse, his face remained impassive. He'd seen this before. Heard the whispers. Knew what methods some officers resorted to when cornered.

His steps faltered briefly. Should he intervene? No. Not his battle. He wasn't a villain, sure—but he wasn't a hero either. Changing the system wasn't in his toolkit. His role was to solve cases, to pull threads others couldn't see—not to fight wars he had no power to win.

Going back to the dispatch room, the hum of voices and crackling radios greeting him once more. James, still at his station, caught sight of him and waved him over, his expression unusually serious.

"Glad you're back," James said, lowering his headset. His tone was calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that Vince didn't miss.

"What's the urgency?" Vince asked, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk.

James hesitated for a moment, as if weighing how to phrase it. "It's about those kidnappers. All three are dead."

Vince's brow furrowed. "Dead? The one I handled, sure, but the other two?"

James nodded, his face grim. "Still in the secret room under that warehouse. Forensics got in this morning and found the bodies. The two you left tied up? Both dead. One stab wound each, precise and clean. Weak spots—instant kills."

Vince tilted his head slightly, processing the information. "Someone got to them after I left."

"Looks that way," James confirmed. "Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing. No signs of a struggle. Just two bodies, neatly taken out."

Vince crossed his arms. "And no one saw anything?"

James shook his head. "Nothing useful. Forensics swept the place and found no prints, no clues—just those bodies and the fact they were dead before sunrise."

"The CCTV outside the warehouse?"

"They found the room which the cams connected to. But they all destroyed, all the cameras and the footages" James said.

The weight of it settled over Vince. His mind churned with possibilities, questions stacking up faster than answers.

James leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "You need to be careful, Vince. This... it's not adding up. Someone wanted them gone. Fast."

Vince met his gaze, a flicker of unease passing through him. Silencing loose ends—a professional's work.

He knew he needed more answers—details that only the crime lab could provide. He decided to head there next, hoping to get his hands on anything that could connect the dots.

The crime lab was a high-tech, sterile environment, designed for precision. Fluorescent lights hummed above, casting a cool, clinical glow over the rows of stainless steel counters and counters lined with equipment. Large machines beeped and whirred, each tool in its proper place, from the microscopes to the DNA analyzers. The scent of bleach and antiseptic hung in the air, familiar to anyone who worked in the field. Shelves stacked with sealed evidence bags and files lined the walls, while a row of refrigerated drawers stood against one side, each one marked with numbers and codes.

As Vince stepped inside, his eyes immediately found Reed and Nate Calloway.

Reed was the older of the two by a few minutes, with a taller frame, broad shoulders, and dark, neatly combed blonde hair that contrasted sharply with Nate's more scruffy look. While Reed exuded an air of calculated precision, always wearing a crisp, slightly intimidating expression, Nate had the casual, laid-back demeanor of someone who didn't take life too seriously. His messy blonde hair and the faint stubble on his chin only added to his relaxed appearance, a stark contrast to his brother.

Their focus not on the sterile environment, but on a more comfortable scene: a tablet loaded with forensic reports and a set of analysis equipment spread out on the counter in front of them.

Nate leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face as he swiped through the digital report. "So, if we tweak the algorithm here, we can isolate the blood spatter patterns and predict the angle of the attack. Pretty neat, right?"

Reed, scanning a microscope slide, muttered without looking up. "Neat, if you care about playing with tech more than solving the case." He didn't share Nate's enthusiasm, his focus intense as he examined the evidence under the lens. "I prefer the old-school methods—analyze the physical first, then back it up with the tech."

Nate snorted. "That's why you're always so behind the curve, Reed. The world's moving forward. You can't just 'eyeball' a case anymore. You need to adapt."

Reed rolled his eyes, finally glancing at his twin. "Some of us just don't need gadgets to get results. But go ahead, give the gadgets all the credit, Nate. You love to put on a show."

Vince stepped into their back-and-forth, his voice cutting through their bickering. "Forget the gadgets. I need info on the kidnappers. What do you have on the murders?"

Both Reed and Nate stopped, the playful tension between them evaporating as they turned their attention to Vince. Reed adjusted his glasses, bringing up a new file on the screen. "You mean the three from the warehouse? Right. We've been going through the tox reports and injury patterns."

Nate leaned in, tapping the screen, his voice a little more serious now. "Two of the bodies had a single stab wound to the heart, both quick and precise. Clean cuts, no struggle. It's like whoever did it knew exactly where to strike." He paused, eyes narrowing. "Professional."

Reed nodded, his expression grim. "The third one, well, we already know how that went down. Strangled, probably with a piece of cord. That's the one we think was your handiwork." He shot Vince a quick look but didn't linger on it. "No real surprises there. But the clean stabs? That's more worrying. Whoever did this didn't leave much to work with."

Vince absorbed their words, but his mind was already full with thoughts of the killers. "Where are the bodies now?"

Nate shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Reed's already got the bodies prepped. We're going to take you through the process, let's see what we've found."

Reed moved quickly, his usual stoic demeanor slipping slightly as he led Vince toward the refrigerated drawers at the far end of the room. As they walked, he glanced over at Vince. "Hope you're ready for what you'll see."

The drawer slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the bodies. Reed flicked a switch, and the corpse trays automatically slid out from the drawers, bringing the bodies closer into view. The air in the room grew colder as the chill from the drawers hit, and the dark, forensic haze of the lab wrapped around them.