Chapter 13 #2
Headlights swept across the asphalt, slicing through the darkness outside the windshield. He released Tori and saw her swipe at the corner of her eye.
Kiara’s sensible sedan parked three spaces over.
She climbed out, a smile starting, then slipping.
Her eyes cut past him, landing on Tori. He saw it hit her in layers.
Her brows tugged down, mouth parting just a fraction.
Confusion. A sharp blink. Then the hurt pinched her face before she locked it all away.
“I didn’t realize Tori was coming,” she said. “I thought you said this was for your case.”
Not for Tori. For him. The meaning bled through. She didn’t have to spell it out. He caught it clear as a radio signal. She’d shown up believing he needed her help, not because he was running errands for another woman.
He had no choice but to be honest. “The file is for Tori’s parents’ case. She’s the someone who deserves the truth.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry, Tori. I’m happy to help.” Kiara slipped her arm into his. “Follow me.”
He’d be confused by Kiara’s sudden shift if he didn’t know her like he did. This was straight up Kiara kindness, genuine and unforced.
In all his years with BSO, Blade had never been to the evidence warehouse. The reception area felt like a doctor’s office designed by someone who’d never smiled. A bulletproof glass partition separated them from a night clerk who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Blade slid his badge and ID through the metal slot.
The motion felt final, like signing a confession.
His name would be logged, timestamped, recorded.
If Internal Affairs came sniffing around later, they’d know exactly when Detective Blade St. James had accessed sealed files with Records Administrator Kiara Kerns.
The clerk barely glanced at their credentials before sliding a logbook through the slot.
Blade signed his name in careful block letters, noting the time.
Tori signed next, her handwriting small, loopy strokes he could barely read.
When Kiara added her signature, her pen hesitated for just a moment before completing the final stroke.
Point of no return.
The clerk buzzed them through a heavy metal door that sealed behind them with a pneumatic hiss. The hallway beyond stretched like a hospital corridor, all white walls and industrial carpet. Security cameras tracked their movement from ceiling-mounted housings every twenty feet.
“Digital Records Room is this way,” Kiara said. Her cardigan brushed against his arm as they walked. “The physical evidence for the Crew case is stored in Section C, but it’s sealed with a judicial signature. I can’t override that without a court order.”
Tori nodded. “What’s all in the digital files?”
“Everything that was scanned or photographed. Crime scene photos, witness statements, autopsy reports, detective notes.” Kiara glanced back at Tori.
“We can view it all on the secure workstation, but no printing. The system logs every document that gets printed, and sealed files trigger automatic alerts.”
They passed doors marked with codes and warnings: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. BIOHAZARD. CLIMATE CONTROLLED. The building felt like a tomb for evidence, each room holding pieces of lives destroyed and justice sought.
Kiara stopped at a door marked DIGITAL RECORDS—RESTRICTED ACCESS. She swiped her keycard and placed her palm on a biometric scanner. The lock disengaged with a soft beep.
“Once we go in there and I log into the system, we’re committed,” she said, her hand still on the door handle. “If anyone reviews the access logs, they’ll see I pulled a sealed IA file after-hours with two unauthorized personnel present.”
Blade met her gaze. Her green eyes held worry but also compassion. She understood what this meant to Tori. What it meant to him.
“Last chance to back out,” he said.
Kiara pushed the door open. “Let’s get some answers.”
The Digital Records Room felt like a bunker.
Three workstations lined the far wall, each equipped with dual monitors and keyboards that looked like they could survive a nuclear blast. No windows.
No decorations. Just white walls, industrial carpet, and the steady hum of climate control systems working to preserve digital evidence.
Blade counted four security cameras mounted in the corners, their red recording lights blinking like electronic heartbeats. Every keystroke would be logged. Every file accessed would leave a digital fingerprint leading straight back to Kiara’s credentials.
Kiara took the chair at the center workstation. Tori took the one to her left, and Blade pulled up another to her right. Kiara settled at the keyboard.
“Before we start,” he said, “we need to confirm the responding officer was Damien Sullivan. That’s our priority.”
Tori nodded, her bandaged arm resting in her lap. The lights washed the color from her face, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. She’d been running on adrenaline for hours, but the crash was coming.
Kiara’s shoulders tensed as she entered her login credentials. The system prompted for additional authentication. A security token from her keychain that generated random numbers every thirty seconds. She typed the code, hit enter, and waited.
ACCESS GRANTED flashed across the screen in green letters.
Blade’s palms began to sweat. The database interface loaded, displaying search fields and dropdown menus. Kiara navigated to the case file system. She typed “CREW” in the victim name field, selected “HOMICIDE” from the case type dropdown, and entered the date range.
One result populated: CREW, NIKOS & JI-YEON—DOUBLE HOMICIDE—CASE #98-444-MH.
“There it is.” Kiara clicked the case number.
A warning dialog appeared: SEALED FILE—IA RESTRICTED ACCESS. JUDICIAL ORDER REQUIRED. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS SUBJECT TO CRIMINAL PROSECUTION.
Kiara’s finger hesitated over the mouse. Blade could see her pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. She was thinking about her career, her future, the safe life she’d built for herself. All of it hanging in the balance.
Tori touched Kiara’s arm. “You don’t have to—”
“No.” Kiara clicked OVERRIDE. “Blade is right. You deserve the truth.”
The murder book exploded across the screen in a cascade of scanned documents, photographs, and reports. Crime scene photos dominated the first section. Images that made his stomach roil. Blood spatter patterns on bedroom walls. Overturned furniture. Bodies positioned at unnatural angles.
Tori’s breath caught, and she gripped the edge of the desk.
“Skip the photos,” he said. “Text only. Just the reports.”
Kiara scrolled past the crime scene documentation, past the autopsy photos, past the evidence inventory. The responding officer’s report appeared, typed on an old police department form with carbon paper smudges.
RESPONDING OFFICERS: SGT. D. BARCLAY, OFF. E. SEGARRA
Not Damien Sullivan.
Tori leaned forward. “Go back to the victim information.”
Kiara scrolled to the case summary, and he read the details aloud as they appeared. “Victims: Nikos Stavros Crew, age forty-one, forensic accountant. Ji-Yeon Crew, age thirty-eight, biomedical researcher. Cause of death: Homicidal Violence. Multiple stab wounds.”
His eyes landed on the next line, and he glanced at Tori. Her fingers touched her lips, her gaze fixed on the screen.
“Victim three,” she whispered. “Unborn female child, approximately thirty weeks gestation.” Tori’s chin sank. Her hair curtained her face as her shoulders tucked inward. “She . . . she was pregnant.”
Blade pushed back from the workstation and went to Tori. His hands found her shoulders, and he swiveled her to face him. Her dark eyes glistened. “Tor, I’m so sorry. How awful.”
Behind him, he could feel Kiara’s presence, could sense her watching him comfort Tori.
Maybe this made her uncomfortable, seeing how naturally he moved to shield Tori from pain.
But Kiara would understand—she had to. Right now, nothing else mattered except giving Tori something solid to lean against while she processed another devastating loss.
Tori swiped her nose with the back of her good hand. “I just—I wish I’d known. All these years . . . A sister.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “She would’ve been born in September.”
Another loss to add to Tori’s collection. Parents she couldn’t remember. Ten foster homes she’d cycled through, the last one a family who would have kept her. And now this. A sister who’d never drawn a breath. Never had a chance.
His thumbs traced gentle circles against her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Inadequate, he knew, but what else could he say?
Tori nodded and straightened, pulling herself together. She turned back toward the screen, but he left one hand on her arm.
“Keep going, Kiara,” she said. “I need to see the rest.”
“You sure?” Kiara looked between them, but Blade gave her a subtle nod to let her know it was okay. Tori would read it herself if Kiara didn’t.
Kiara drew in a breath and read, “Survivors found at scene: Victoria Crew, female. Nikos Crew Jr., male.”
Tori’s head jerked up to look at him. Eyes wide, mouth parted, locked on those words that punched the air out of the room.
Blade felt the ground shift beneath him, and his fingers tightened on Tori as he stared at the screen. Not just one survivor. Two. Two children found at that crime scene.
“You have a brother?” Kiara asked.
Tori’s hand moved to her throat, fingers tracing the scabbed cut there. “I have a brother.”