January 23rd

It was nine in the evening when Jackie arrived at her seventh crime scene of the week. This time, the action had occurred in an upscale northwestern Malikan City neighborhood, full of mini-mansions, and Bentley’s. Upon her arrival, Jackie was bombarded the usual suspects—cops and their cop cars, paramedic, crime scene investigators and of course, the media.

She stopped to wave at an officer she recognized: Sergeant Joaquim Jackson, a rising star in the police department and Marcus’ best friend. “What do we have here, Sergeant Jackson?” She then asked, noticing that the paramedics were preparing to leave with empty stretches, indicating that whoever was left inside was dead.

Joaquim approached the medical examiner, seemingly more frazzled than usual. The scene inside the house must have been unpleasant. “Single homicide. White male,” he said, and then added. “Edwin’s on his way.”

“Terrific,” Jackie mumbled sarcastically, not about Edwin, but about the body. More work would be put on her plate, and she could barely up with the cadavers she already had in her lab freezer. She followed Joaquim into the home, greeting everyone she walked past until they reached the kitchen.

Thankfully, the crime scene was nowhere as gory as the Suite Girl’s, but it was hard to stand in an area where a murder had just occurred. She walked around the island to where Jackie suspected the bodies must be, judging by the numerous stringers of yellow caution tape around the area.

Jackie’s suspicions were correct.

The cause of death didn’t appear to be as gruesome as the Suite Girl’s, but it didn’t mean that Jackie wasn’t disturbed by the sight of a youngish-looking man— white male, bald, large build—sprawled out on the floor.

“Only one?” She confirmed, pulling on her gloves as she stepped over the debris scattered on the floor. Broken plates and glasses. Utensils all over. It looked like there had been a struggle before the killing.

“One is enough.”

Jackie stopped and turned around, noticing Detective Edwin Yuma, standing in the doorway with his partner, Detective Adam Parker. “Good evening, Detective Yuma and Parker.”

Parker waved.

“Dr. Farris,” Edwin acknowledged, approaching the medical examiner. He peered at the bodies and scrunched up his nose. “Nice scene, isn’t it?”

“One stake to the heart,” Jackie noted, pointing at the murder weapon. She had never seen anything like this before in person, only in movies. “Isn’t this some form of execution reserved for vampires?”

“Yeah, but vampires don’t exist. Maybe he was a part of a cult. People in cuts would do shit like that…” a standby office added, and then shut his mouth upon receiving a rather harsh glare from Edwin. He quickly apologized and wandered off to the other side of the room.

“What do you think, Ed?” Parker asked. “A hit?”

“Looks like it,” Edwin replied, frowning.

“What’s with the stakes, though?”

Edwin didn’t answer Parker. Instead, he turned around and ordered some officers to collect what they could.

Jackie resumed her examination. Vampires don’t exist, she quietly reminded herself. From what she could see, there were no other markings or bruises on the body. The state to the heart looked like the sole murder weapon. Vampires don’t exist.

“By the end of the week, probably the next,” Jackie quickly replied, studying the stakes closely. She noticed that there were small pieces of garlic tied to a string that was wrapped around the bottom of the stake. Whoever did this must have been convinced that they were killing a vampire, as insane as that sounded.

“Can’t be sooner?”

“Not unless you can convince City Hall to give me another medical examiner. Can’t squeeze in anything until, at the earliest, Thursday.” Jackie shrugged. “Anyway, from the looks at it, this seems to be a cut-and-dry murder. The stake was the murder weapon. The autopsy shouldn’t be that hard.”

Edwin didn’t say anything else. He spent the next few minutes inspecting the crime scene before stopping just shy of a wallet on the floor. And opened wallet. He knelt down and studied it, immediately snapping his fingers at his partner to get his attention.”

“Lucien Dalca,” Edwin whispered to his partner when he arrived. He was loud enough for Jackie to hear, but didn’t seem to care. He looked between the bodies and Lucien’ ID. “That’s our victim.”

“Well, shit.”

Jackie stopped everyone and peered up at the detectives, taken aback. Dalca—that was the name Marcus had mentioned when he had noticed the initials stamped on the Suite Girl’s inner wrist. Jackie had heard of the Dalca family—anyone who worked in the Malikan City justice system knew about the Dalca’s—but she could have sworn that they had taken their business out of Malikan City years ago.

She couldn’t prove it at the moment, but Jackie knew there had to be a connection these murders and the Suite Girl’s.

“Detective Yuma!”

“What’s the issue, Dr. Farris?”

“I know this may sound crazy,” Jackie started, “but you need to talk to Marcus and Teresa. I’m sure you know what case they’re on, and I think there may be a connection between that murder and these.”

Edwin ran a hand down his face and loudly groaned. “Teresa… she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me right now…”

Jackie sighed. So the rumors were true after all. Edwin Yuma was caught in another woman in the very bed he shared with his wife, Teresa Yuma’s bed. The fact that the police superintendent hadn’t already issued an edict invoking an anti-fraternizing rule was quite surprising. “Yeah, but the investi—just talk to Marcus.”

***

January 27th

The full examination into the death of Lucien Dalca began a few years after he had been found, as expected.

Finding the cause of the man’s death was important, but not a priority as per the Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Sayed Khan. He wasn’t all over the news networks and newspapers like the Suite Girl was. The justice system, namely District Attorney Rubinstein, wasn’t knocking on any doors, demanding any suspects.

Lucien’s autopsy wouldn’t be threatened by an unknown assailant.

Gus DuPont. What was Jackie thinking not notifying security or the police about the man’s attentions? He had practically begged her to obstruct a major homicide case. That was cause for jail time—

She shook her head as she headed Vince pulled out the drawer containing Lucien. They had nothing on him; the only thing the examiners had received from the police concerning Lucien was radio silence.

"Do you have the test results?" Jackie asked once she and Vince were able to transfer Lucien to the examination table. They had been able to get in a few tests when the man arrived to the morgue. It was nothing complex: just a blood and toxicology examination.

Vince nodded and retrieved the reports from the desk. "Yeah, but we may have a problem. Both came out inconclusive."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. An inconclusive toxicology she could understand, but, "The blood?"

"Yeah..." Vince trailed of as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Here's the thing, the man had blood in him, normal levels, but forensics couldn't isolate anything. It's like... the blood inside him, came from hundreds of people."

"Excuse me?"

“Yeah, insane. I know…” Vince handed Jackie the report. "So, I have some theories about this. Theory number one: this guy died a while ago, body was preserved somehow and got filled with blood from other people. Theory number two—“

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“I’m just saying,” Vince maintained. “Also, there’s something you may want to check out,” he added, walking up to Lucien and pulling back the white sheet, revealing a man who looked far different, and older than the man Jackie had seen in the kitchen that fateful day.

Jackie took a couple of steps forward, stopped, and glanced between the body and her coworker. "How long has this guy been dead again?"

"Technically speaking, a few days?"

Jackie raised an eyebrow, puzzled beyond belief. The man was decomposing rapidly, which was bizarre since he had been kept inside a freezer ever since he had entered the morgue.

Not only was he decomposing, but he was aging. His youthful, pale skin descended into wrinkles. Muscle definition was completely gone.

She blinked and asked. "Are you this is him?"

"Positive."

"Okay..." Jackie mumbled, pulling on her gloves. She adjusted the overhead light and began her examination. She first leaned over and studied Lucien' eyes. Black. The iris and the pupil were black. She retreated and checked his nose. No traces mucus found, only visible droplets of blood. She checked inside his mouth. Nothing but blood, mix of wet and dried up blood.

“Cut him open?”

“No, no need at this moment,” Jackie said, reaching for the plyers. She had to get that stake out. “Only if Khan wants us to. This guy died from the stake to the heart. There’s nothing else to examine. Thank goodness.”

“So, we have a name but nothing else.”

“Exactly. No definitive age. No place of birth. No documents,” Jackie muttered, leaning over Lucien to determine the best well to withdraw the wood without causing much damage. “Someone must have a record on him somewhere.”

“Maybe he was an illegal alien?”

“Probably.”

“You need help.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Vince stood opposite to his coworker, watching her as she worked her away around the murder weapon. “Is it safe to say that suicide had been ruled out?”

“Most likely.”

Vince nodded and glanced down.

“A stake to the heart,” he remarked, accepting the plyers that Jackie handed to him. He had to give it a try. “This screams vampire hunters.”

Jackie groaned. “For the last time, Vince. Vampires don’t exist.”

“Whatever you say, Jackie, whatever you say.”

***

"Good afternoon, folks. I hope you both had a wonderful lunch because I have some very bad news.”

Dr. Sayed Khan, never the one to beat around the bush, announced as he entered the coroner's lab. It was a quality that was a hit or miss with his staff, but he deemed it necessary. After all, he was the Chief Medical Examiner; stalling wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Good afternoon to you too, Dr. Khan," Jackie said, tossing aside her purse and shrugging off her job. Her lunch had been relaxing, save for spending ten minutes trying to convince Marcus not to worry about a particular late-night visit from a particular man some days back. "What happened now?"

It would be nice to spend the rest of the workday drama-free. But that seemed to never happen in Malikan City. Jackie prepared for the worst but hoped for the relative best. She exchanged a look with Vince who only shrugged.

"What happened was that as of eleven, forty-five this morning, someone somehow managed to convince the Honorable Judge Baxter to issue a TRO to prevent the Suite Girl's autopsy from progressing any further."

Jackie nearly dropped her third cup of hot coffee of the day.

Whereas Vince's jaw literally dropped.

"He can do that?" he cried.

"Evidently, so," Khan replied, handing the court notice to Jackie. "He's the judge. He can almost do anything."

Jackie placed her coffee on the nearest table, and quickly skimmed the document. It was a TRO, alright. A temporary restraining order barring the completion of a high-stakes autopsy. She never told she'd seen the day. It just wasn't—she froze.

Him, she realized. That asshole actually did it.

Jackie cursed under her breath.

"What did you say?"

Jackie's head snapped up at Vince's question. She feigned ignorance and handed the document back to her supervisor. "What? I didn't say anything."

Vince was confused, but before he could say anything, Khan carried on. "I don't think I need to tell you both how much we cannot let this case go cold—Dr. Tran, please get Rubinstein on the damn phone."

"You got it, boss."

Khan let out a deep breath. "Well, at least, the good news is that this is only a TRO. Nothing's set in stone until the permanent injunction hearing. I'll talk to Rubinstein about getting it thrown out," Khan told Jackie as Vince tried to get the assistant district attorney on the phone.

"Sounds like a plan."

"What is the status of Tomlinson's autopsy, anyway?" Khan asked. "Do we have enough to work with the police?”

"It's actually almost done. We just have to figure out what type of poison or bacteria killed her."

"You said that whatever it was entered her system through the bite, correct?"

"Yes. The substance traveled through her blood stream, turning the blood solid which induced a powerful cardiac arrest. She died in seconds.”

"Sounds like venom to me," Khan concluded. "Okay, so, at least we have that. We have the estimated time or death, the cause and an identity. It's better than nothing."

"When will TRO take effect?"

"Firs thing tomorrow. Which gives us some time to run more tests. Try to do as much as you can before the morning."

"Of course."

"And before you leave, I need a same of Tomlinson's blood, preferably around the bite. I know someone off-side who specializes in venom immunochemistry. I'll see if he can find anything."

"But wouldn't that be in violation of the court order?"

"Yes and no, but there's nothing to worry about. The law always has loopholes.”

***

At three-thirty in the afternoon, following a visit with the hotel staff at the Grand Marquis Hotel, Marcus and Teresa received a message from their captain, indicating that the FPB—The Federal Penal Bureau, the federal law enforcement agency, wanted to speak to them.

Teresa didn’t think it was a big deal. MPD and FPB had meetings with each other all the time. But Marcus was less than enthused.

It wasn't that Marcus didn't like the FPB. He just didn't trust them. He had discovered years ago that he would be perfectly content if someone assured him that he would never, ever have to interact with the bureau ever again. For the rest of his natural life. And if possible, the afterlife.

“Jesus Christ, Marcus. This is only a meeting, not an interrogation.”

Marcus snorted as he drove his car into the parking space and turned off the engine. He took out the key and shoved it into his pocket. "Oh, it's going to turn into one, just you watch."

"You're being dramatic."

"I honestly don't care at the moment."

Teresa sighed as she unbuckled her seat belt. "At least, it's not the CDA," she reasoned as she followed Marcus out the car and towards the precinct. She didn't have anything personal against the agency, but they were known for giving people a hard time.

"I don't mind the CDA," Marcus insisted as he walked inside. He greeted some fellow officers as he headed to his captain's office where they were to meet the federal agents. "They don't bother me."

“I’m sure they’re only here to ask some preliminary questions about the Suite Girl murder,” Teresa assured her partner. “It happens all the time with major cases.”

“Yeah, like I said, that’s how it starts, and then the next thing you know, they’re taking over our investigation. And it’s not like we can say no. We would get in trouble for obstruction.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “Damn it, Marcus, can you please put your dislike for the FPB aside for the next thirty minutes?”

“Okay, fine.”

“Thank you.” Teresa stopped short of the captain’s office and turned around, eyeing her partner. “What’s up with you and the FPB, anyway?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Resorting to Facebook lingo, are we?”

“Shut up.”

Teresa chuckled; she glad that she was about to make Marcus smile after he had been so grumpy during the entire ride to the precinct. “It will be fine, Marky-Mark, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Only if you stop throwing mini-tantrums like you’re my niece. Who is four,” Teresa taunted. She chuckled when her partner sent her a half-heated glare. “Promesa?”

“Okay, I’ll try my—“ Marcus stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Her personal phone, which he tended not to pay attention to during work hours, but he instantly recognized the personalized ringer as Jackie’s. Given the events of the past couple of weeks, he couldn’t afford to ignore her.

Teresa watched Marcus as he stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at his phone with a deep frown. She could have sworn she even heard him growl. "What's happening now?" she asked.

Marcus didn't immediately reply as he continued to read the message. He returned his phone to his front pocket, and said, “Someone managed to get a damn TRO on the Suite Girl’s autopsy.”

“What?” Teresa nearly shouted. It didn't make sense; the court was actually obstructing a murder investigation? That never happened. "Is that even allowed? I thought you couldn't interfere with a murder victim's autopsy? You know, for obvious reasons?"

Marcus had thought so, too. It was nearly impossible. As far as he knew, the only people who could technically stop anything were the girl's close relative. And as far as he knew, she didn’t have any.

No wonder the feds were here; they must have received a tip that this wasn't a normal murder. Marcus grumbled—well, this was just great. Not only did he and Teresa have to deal with Tiffany and the mobs; now, they had to worry about potential corruption as well.

"I can't believe this shit," Marcus spat. "Who stops a goddamn autopsy for a murder—oh, wonderful, another message…" Marcus trailed off as he pulled out his phone once again to read a new text, frowning even more, though he did look more surprised than upset.

Teresa was starting to become very worried. "Marcus?"

"So…" Marcus started after some moments of silence. "Hypothetically speaking, if we had to meet up with Edwin to discuss some matters, would you be up to it?"

"What do you mean?" Teresa inquired slowly.

"I know you two had your—"

"What's going on, Marcus?"

Marcus sighed and put away his phone. "He wants to talk."

"Talk?" Teresa nearly choked out. She cursed to herself, realizing that she still couldn't hear the man's name without getting emotional. "About what?"

"About our murder investigations. He's handling the Dalca murder and thinks there may be a connection to the Suite Girl’s."

Teresa had a bad feeling about that. The Dalca’s and the Atkin’s were very close; if one family was involved in something, Teresa would bet her pension that there was a good chance that the other was not far behind. "Of course, there is."

"We don't have to—" Marcus quickly corrected himself. "You don't have to come. I know it's a bit hostile between the two of you. I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position."

"Marcus Robison, I'm a homicide detective. My job is inherently uncomfortable."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Teresa nodded. Yeah, she did. She tried to hide it, but she did feel uneasy about being around the other detective. Her husband. She didn't want anything to do with him, but she was a professional and professionals handled any situations they had to encounter with sophistication, no matter how infuriating the people involved were. "It's fine."

Marcus didn't seem convinced. "Are you… sure?"

"This is serious business, Marcus. I cannot jeopardize these investigations because of my personal reservations," Teresa explained, feeling proud of herself for being serious about not letting her feelings affect her work. It was a well-known weakness of hers. "Call him. Text him. Whatever, and let him know that we need to meet up later."

***

"Detective Robinson and Detective Yuma, I’m glad that you were able to come here at such short notice."

"Captain," Marcus acknowledged.

Teresa greeted her boss and followed him towards the direction of the conference room where she assumed the agents were. She occasionally stole glances at her partner, to make he was okay. This wasn't the time for him to burst a vessel.

Much to Teresa's annoyance, Marcus's sour mood had returned. "Do you have any idea what the feds want to talk about?" he asked the captain.

The captain shrugged as he continued walking. "Your investigation into the death of Tiffany Tomlinson has captured some attention. The feds have reasons to believe that she had some association with the Atkin's."

Marcus and Teresa shared a concerned look.

"Reasons? What reasons?" Marcus asked. "The investigation just started. We haven't discovered anything concrete about the Atkin's involvement."

"You haven't, but they did." The captain stopped in front of the meeting room. "The gang unit received some interesting information as well. They were the ones who called the FPB.”

Teresa and Marcus shared a look. Manuel wasn't the type to just call the feds over any little thing; he had his pride and reputation as a complete and total "badass" to protect. This must be big.

"Are they taking over our investigation?" Teresa asked.

The captain sighed. "I honestly don't know, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'll make sure you'll be able to do your jobs."

***

"We understand that there has been a string of interesting murders occurring around here."

Marcus didn't want to answer any of the federal agents' questions but judging from the looks his captain had been sending him for the past couple of minutes; he realized that he didn't have a choice. "Welcome to Malikan City."

Teresa nudged Marcus's shin with her foot. She could tell that Agents Gillespie and Piazza didn't find humor in Marcus's sarcastic comment. She knew he didn't like them, but they were still the feds. "What he means is that we completely agree with your sentiment. Being in this city, we're used to murders, but not like these."

"Yes, we've heard. That is why we are here," Gillespie said, opening the file with all the updated information. "Let's talk about your investigation into the murder of Tiffany Tomlinson. How is it going? Do you have any leads or suspects?"

"It's still ongoing, but some progress has certainly been made," Teresa replied before Marcus could say another snarky remark.

The detectives weren't sure if they should mention the temporary injunction. During their drive to the precinct, they both agreed that if the agents didn't bring it up, they wouldn't either.

"Glad to hear that," Agent Gillespie said. "Have you come across any information about Miss Tomlinson's association with a particular organization?"

"Not officially, Agent Gillespie," Teresa said, quickly glancing at Marcus. "We have some suspicions based on our conversation with the victim's acquaintances. Why do you ask?"

"We have reasons to believe that Miss Tomlinson was working for the Atkin and/or Dalca family in some capacity."

The detectives shared a look; it appeared that their suspicions were founded after all. "Have you been keeping an eye on our investigation from the very beginning?" Marcus asked.

"No," Agent Piazza replied. "We were simply monitoring the situation along the Wint/Malikan provincial border when we received the news of the murder. We initially assumed that it is just normal case, but then we heard about the death of Ruslana Dalca's relative. We all know that the Dalca's and the Atkin's are very close."

Close wasn't even the half of it, Marcus thought. The families had plans to officially combine forces and now—Marcus's eyes widened. It made sense. Everything just made sense.

No wonder Edwin wanted to have a little chat.

"I assume you are aware of the Atkin's and the Dalca's plan to combine their organizations, Detective Robinson," Agent Piazza said; he must have read Marcus's face during his revelation. "That is why we are here. And for the Albanisi, who are most certainly not going to be happy about this move."

"We don't have enough evidence to make the Albanisi a suspect," Teresa admitted, though she knew that the group must have had something to with Sasha and her baby's murders. "At least, not for Tiffany Tomlinson's murder."

"I'm sure you will soon," Gillespie said. "We wanted to talk to you both about what's going on because chances are our investigations are going to cross paths. We won't be actively involved in your murder case, but we will definitely be monitoring it."