Chapter 14
Detective Jones
Getting out of bed for my job was harder than it probably was for anybody else in this city. Most people woke up worried about traffic, late meetings, bills stacking up on the counter, or whether their boss was going to spend the entire day breathing down their neck.
That was exactly why my pantry stayed stocked with giant tubs of instant coffee lined up beside each other like emergency supplies before a storm, because one cup was never enough for this kind of work.
New York breathed violence somewhere across the boroughs at every hour. There was always someone getting robbed, shot, stabbed, beaten, or found dead. I just investigated a massacre the other day and now this.
When I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs toward my car, there was already a pressure building in my stomach that I had learned not to ignore over the years because homicide detectives develop instincts the same way stray dogs survive harsh winters.
The drive through Manhattan was usually smooth for the hour, but instead of relaxing me, the empty roads only made the atmosphere feel heavier. As I got closer to the Old Johnson Play Center, the city itself began to look different.
Streets were blocked off one after another with patrol cars parked sideways across intersections while flashing lights painted entire buildings red and blue.
Even from nearly half a block away, I could already see crowds gathering behind barricades despite the hour because New Yorkers treated tragedy like live entertainment whenever it happened close enough to home.
Then I saw the tape.
It stretched so far down the block that it looked like somebody had tried wrapping the entire neighborhood in yellow caution signs. At the same time, officers moved quickly underneath the flashing lights, and forensic vans crowded the curbs beside ambulances.
I stepped out of the car, and my eyes moved slowly across the block while I walked forward beneath the tape, taking in shattered storefront windows, bullet-riddled car doors, and shell casings scattered everywhere you could look.
Whoever carried this out didn’t come looking to scare people or send warnings. They came there planning to wipe everybody out.
Bodies were scattered across different parts of the scene, one lying near the curb beneath a sheet soaked dark around the chest, while another one rested near a trash can.
I ducked beneath another line of tape and spotted Detective Mitchell standing near the middle of the block with a notepad tucked underneath his arm.
The kid was smart and eager, but he was still new enough that scenes like this hadn’t fully hardened him yet, and one look at his face told me whatever he had seen out there shook his ass just as my first case had done me.
His skin looked pale underneath the flashing lights while his eyes kept drifting back toward one particular section of the crime scene, like he was trying not to stare at it for too long.
I walked over while putting on latex gloves.
“Mitchell. How many total do we have?”
“Three confirmed dead so far,” he replied quickly before swallowing hard.
“Possibly more once they finish checking the buildings around here.”
Mitchell shifted nervously beside me before finally speaking again.
“You’re not going to believe who one of the victims is, sir.”
“Who is it?”
Before he could answer, I looked to my left at the coroner crouching down beside a body, slowly pulling the sheet back from the victim's face.
The moment I saw who it was underneath, I knew the city was about to be at war.
To Be Continued.
On You 3: Amir Quatar’s Story
The finale
Also coming soon:
Contract With A Goon: A Surrogacy and Arranged Marriage