CHAPTER 8 - Madeline
I wake up with a crushing weight behind my eyes. I don’t move. The light leaking through the blinds burns straight into my skull. My mouth tastes like stale alcohol and something bitter I can’t quite place. God.
I press the heel of my palm against my forehead and breathe slowly, trying not to move fast. My stomach rolls in protest. Fragments of last night drift through my head like broken glass. Music. Lights. Lucy dragging me onto the dance floor. And then, him.
The memory is too sharp compared to everything else. His hand on my waist. The steady pressure of his fingers against my back as he pulled me closer. The heat of his breath when he leaned down to speak directly into my ear. I squeeze my eyes shut. Why do I remember that part so clearly?
A groan comes from the living room.
“Tell me I died,” Lucy mutters from the couch.
“Because if this is living, I want out.”
I let out a weak breath that almost became a laugh.
“If you died,” I say hoarsely, pushing myself upright.
“I’m pretty sure I came with you.”
My head spins the moment I sit up.
I steady myself and stand slowly, gripping the kitchen counter when I reach it. My balance feels wrong, like the floor shifted slightly overnight. Pieces of the night keep surfacing.
Someone drove us to my place. Lucy was barely conscious beside me. My keys slipped through my fingers while I tried to open the door. But the strongest memory isn’t the party.
It’s him. The way he touched me. The strange white streak cutting through his dark hair under the ballroom light. And the look in his eyes. The hunger.
My phone rings. The sound slices through the silence so suddenly I flinch. Unknown number.
Something cold creeps down my spine. I answer anyway.
ME: “Madeline Emerson.”
UNKNOWN: “Miss Emerson, this is detective Hargrove.”
My stomach drops. Detective. I straighten slightly, the fog in my head thinning instantly.
DETECTIVE: “We recovered a body early this morning.”
A heavy pause follows.
DETECTIVE: “There's a strong possibility it’s a body of Jake Sullivan.”
For a second I don’t understand the words. Jake. My ex.
My fingers tighten slowly around the phone.
ME: “What?”
DETECTIVE: “The body was discovered near the outskirts of the morgue. It’ll be transported to your facility for examination soon.”
My heart starts beating harder. Jake is dead. The thought should hit me like a shock. But something else surfaces first. The ballroom. The dance floor. His voice against my ear.
“He won’t bother you anymore.”
My breath catches. At the time it sounded serious.
Yes. But I didn’t know he would take it this far.
Now the memory feels different. Colder. We talked about Jake.
The message. The harassment. He must have taken him before our dance.
No. After. It wouldn’t be possible to do it that quickly. Would it?
Suddenly the whole night begins rearranging itself in my head, like pieces of a puzzle finally sliding into place. He looked at me like a man who had already made a decision. Because he did. A terrifying one. A sick, twisting thought pushes its way into my mind.
Did he do it for me? Did he think he was protecting me? Or, was it something worse? Jealousy. Possession. Or something else entirely. Because Jake wasn’t just my ex. He was a cop. And if the Arbiter killed him… then this wasn’t just personal.
Which means when I walk into the morgue today… I already know what I’m going to find. And the worst part is, I’m almost certain whose work it is.
From the couch Lucy groans again, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
“Please tell me that wasn’t important,” she mumbles.
I swallow, forcing my voice to sound normal.
“It’s work.”
Technically not a lie. My heart is beating too fast now. The fog from the alcohol is gone completely. Jake. Dead.
I push away from the counter and move toward the bedroom to get dressed, my mind already racing ahead.
They’re bringing the body to my facility. Which means I’ll see him. Which means I’ll have to open that body bag, and examine the body.
The thought should make me feel something. Sadness. Relief. Anger. Instead I feel… nothing. Just confusion. Because another thought keeps circling in my head, darker each time it returns.
Jake was last seen with me. The memory of the private lounge flashes through my mind. His voice. His anger. The way he pushed me. And the fact that no one else was in that room. The doors were closed. For several long minutes, it was just me and him. My stomach sinks.
If the police start asking questions, and they will, I’m the last person who saw him alive. The woman he abused. Which means I’ll also be the first person they’ll look at.
I pull on a clean shirt with shaking hands. Maybe they already know that we argued. Maybe someone saw us go there together. Maybe… I stop.
The moment I walked out. The hallway outside the salon. And the man standing there. Watching me. My shadow. He appeared after. Not before. Which means if anyone connects Jake’s death to the Arbiter… they won’t see him. They’ll see me.
I grab the keys from the table and head for the door. Lucy lifts her head weakly.
“Where are you going?”
“Work.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You’re insane.”
Maybe. Or maybe I just already know something she doesn’t. And the urge to tell her everything is getting stronger. She’ll find out about Jake one way or another. I’m tired of keeping secrets. Especially with her. I love her. But I have to deal with this first.
The morning air outside is cold enough to cut through the last alcohol in my system. By the time I get into my car, my thoughts are racing so fast they almost blur together.
The Arbiter. The man the police have been chasing for years. Did he really do it? Did he actually kill Jake? Who else would it be? Jake didn’t have many enemies. At least none who would be brave enough to take down a cop.
If he did this for me… then I’m not just part of the investigation anymore. I’m the reason it happened.
The road to the mortuary appears ahead of me, familiar and quiet in the early morning light. My pulse quickens. Because in a few minutes, I’m going to walk into work. And inside that building… Jake’s corpse is waiting.
The parking lot is already half full when I pull in.
Nothing unusual about that. Morning shifts always start early.
But I have a feeling that I won’t be going home before nightfall today.
There’s a lot of work waiting for me. I’ve walked through those doors hundreds of times. Today it feels different. He’s inside.
In my entire career, I’ve never had someone I knew personally on my table. The thought sits heavy in my chest, but I force myself to breathe normally as I push through the glass doors.
The smell of disinfectant greets me immediately. Familiar. Clinical. Safe. Or at least it used to be.
“Morning, Madeline.”
I look up to see Bryan behind the front desk, already halfway through his first coffee of the day.
“Morning,” I reply automatically, offering a small nod as I pass.
The hallway buzzes with a quiet activity. Phones ringing. Distant voices. The soft hum of fluorescent lights. It feels much more alive here during the day. Night shifts are completely different. But everything appears exactly the same as every other morning. Which somehow makes it worse.
I swipe my badge at the security door and step into the elevator. For a second I just stare at my reflection in the polished steel. I look… normal. A little pale. A little tired. But normal. No one would guess that an hour ago a detective told me my ex-boyfriend is dead.
The elevator dings softly as it reaches my floor. I step out into the corridor.
“Madeline.”
I turn to see Dr. Halvorsen walking toward me, a tablet tucked under his arm.
“Morning,” I say, adjusting the strap of the bag on my shoulder.
“We received a body about twenty minutes ago,” he says.
“You’ll be alone in the mortuary today. Only Bryan will stay downstairs. Leave when you’re done with everything.”
Of course. My throat tightens slightly.
“Already processed through intake?”
He nods.
“Preliminary documentation is done. It’s in the autopsy room.”
My pulse jumps. Ready. Waiting.
He glances down at his tablet before looking back at me. “The name is Jake Sullivan,” he adds.
Suddenly the hallway feels too quiet. Too still. But years of training kick in before the reaction can reach my face.
I nod once.
“Alright.”
My voice sounds steady. Professional. Exactly the way it should.
I’ll finally see what he did to him. And if I’m right, I won’t be just looking at my ex-boyfriend. I’ll be looking at the work of the most dangerous man in this city.
The preparation always takes some time. I need my morning coffee. To set up my office. Check the incoming files. Change into the clothes meant for the autopsy. Only then, I’m finally ready to face him. By the time I step into the autopsy room, it’s already getting close to afternoon.
The cold air usually keeps the ghosts at bay. But looking at the man on my table, I feel a chill that has nothing to do with the refrigeration. He’s someone I know. No. I knew. Now he’s just a canvas of systematic agony.
I click my recorder on.
“Case 404. White male. The subject shows signs of extreme physiological stress prior to death.”
I pick up my magnifying glass, tracing the faint, crystalline residue around the IV puncture in his arm.
“The toxicology screen came back an hour ago. The perpetrator kept him flooded with high-grade stimulants and neuro-sensitizers. They didn’t just want to hurt him. They wanted to make sure he couldn’t find the mercy of a blackout.”
I circle slowly around the table.
“Cruel,” I mutter under my breath.
I move the light over his torso. The marks are horrific, not because of their size, but because of their precision.
“The epidermal layer is covered in thousands of micro-punctures, most likely from a Wartenberg wheel, followed by localized thermal burns. But look at the patterns.”