Case: 0 (Annalise Storm Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Seeing no point in arguing further, she eagerly munched on the food he had prepared for her. Dawson wasn’t going to get away with murder. The second the media vultures would receive the information, his image as a “Good Samaritan” and a strictly “Anti-Modded political activist” would go down the drain. He would be kicked out of City Hall in disgrace and have to answer for the torment and pain he rained on the citizens in this city. She would make sure of that.

  10

  Hidden Affection

  When they parked in the DPD car park, her wrist comms activated and “M.E.” showed on her display. She put in an earpiece and answered the call.

  “What is it, Hopps?”

  “Well, don’t you sound chipper!” His voice changed from sarcasm to serious once he cleared his throat. “I heard what happened to you last night. How are you holding up?”

  She heard sincerity in his voice and accepted it. “Please tell me you didn’t call me just to ask me how I’m feeling.”

  “No, I guess I did not. I am uncertain whom I should give the details of my autopsy to. On the case file, there are two detective names. Perhaps it’s an error in the system.”

  “Whose is the second name?”

  Hopps cleared his throat. “Detective Auris. It says he was added to the case file last night by Chief Sunderland.”

  Annalise groaned. Chief was ready to give up on her with one minor bullet wound. There was no way she would get off his back until he reassigned Jamen to something else. “I will be right over to get the info.”

  “Great, bring me some green tea while you’re at it. The last tea bag I had fell into the chest cavity of a victim I had the pleasure of dissecting. Should have left it until I was finished, I guess.”

  She grimaced. “See you in five, Hopps.” Annalise deactivated the call.

  Mavel said nothing and studied her with interest when she faced him.

  “Clive wants green tea. By the looks of it, a dead body got the last of it.” She got out of the car, and they made their way to the building. They parted at the door because Mavel had to round the building and go through a separate set of scanners.

  Ten long minutes later, they arrived at the morgue. The cold air had an undertone of formaldehyde which overpowered the faint scent of the green tea she held in a thermal cup for Clive. Mavel believed it would be a good idea to score some points with the M.E. since, in the future, they had to work together whether she liked it or not.

  The white walls and doors burned her eyes, so she lowered them to study the chequered grey linoleum. Following the signs, they reached a set of sliding doors and wandered into the lab.

  Clive sat behind an electron microscope with his glasses resting atop of his head. When they approached, he reached for the cup she held.

  “It better be the Green Lily tea they have in Narcotics,” he grumbled.

  “No, it’s from the cafeteria. If you don’t like it, you can go get one yourself.” She held the cup over the bin.

  Clive jumped off his seat and grasped her wrist. “No need to do anything hasty.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she handed him his drink.

  He took a whiff of it and a look of delight spread across his aged features. “And here I thought you’d come empty-handed.”

  Mavel tapped him on the shoulder. “You had something to tell us about the body.”

  The M.E. frowned and realisation dawned on him as to why they were here. He ran to his terminal, next to the microscope, and typed in his access codes with one hand. He used his arm to clear the table and a holo-projection of what Annalise guessed to be muscle tissue appeared.

  He pointed to the projection. “This is a normal skeletal tissue found in purebloods and majority of the modded, except beasts, of course. And this”—he pressed a key on the keypad and the image morphed into a shrivelled version of the cells, ends of which were torn—“is the muscle tissue around your vic’s waistline. It seems like a localised degradation of the dermal and skeletal tissues occurred an hour or so prior to his death.”

  Annalise scowled at him. “Was it a disease? Should his body be quarantined?”

  Clive pursed his lips together as he sat on his stool. “It’s too localised. No cells outside of a twenty-centimetre radius are affected. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he wore a belt or something that degraded his waistline until it became fragile enough for a finger to tear it apart.”

  “Are you saying he wasn’t pulled apart by a beast?” Mavel asked.

  Clive took a sip of his tea. “Well, the state his tissue was in, it’s hard to say. A human could do it, even a child.”

  Annalise pondered over his suggestions. Whoever was behind Robert’s murder was trying to make Leila appear as the culprit.

  Mavel scissored his arms. “Are there any known drugs that can do this?”

  “None I know of. But, this wouldn’t be the first experimental drug developed by the military or the mad hats in the Black District that we don’t happen to have in our database. All I know is, I found no trace elements of foreign substances in the vic’s system which means I can’t tell if it was because of a drug or something else.”

  “Send the full report to my terminal,” she said.

  “Will do.” Clive raised his cup. “And thanks for the tea.”

  Mavel opened the door for her, allowing her to slip out of the lab.

  Her mind was rattled by the facts Clive gave them. A bad feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “Follow the evidence,” he said. “It’s bound to lead us somewhere.”

  “Yeah, unless we’re dealing with something bigger than a woman scorned.”

  Upon their arrival at the HPD office, Rios jumped out of his seat. Des was nowhere to be found nor were Jamen and Calla.

  Rios strode over and bent down to her level. “How are you doing, little lady?”

  Annalise fought not to roll her eyes. She just wanted to catch Dawson and figure out who was behind Robert’s death. “I’m fine. Is the Chief in?”

  His expression grew grim. “You aren’t seriously planning on continuing with your case, are you? Just leave it to—”

  “I am planning to continue. I have to put the man who did this behind bars.”

  Rios whistled, and his eyes landed on Mavel. “Is she always this uptight?”

  Mavel chuckled. “She’s a Storm. If you see her father’s speeches in the City Hall, you’ll understand where she gets it from.”

  “Oh.” Rios stepped out of the way for them to pass. “Good luck with Sunderland then.”

  She knocked on the Chief’s door and was invited in. Taking a seat in his office for the third day in a row was becoming habitual. Soon, she would know every crack in the wall as she did at her apartment.

  “I want to stay on the case,” she said.

  Chief Sunderland placed his elbow on the table and rested his bored face in his palm. “Out of the question, but if you’re here to make a statement on yesterday’s events, I’ll gladly activate the comms.”

  Annalise rested her hands on his desk and leant in. Her wounded shoulder ached, but her game face camouflaged her discomfort. “I want to keep going!”

  Chief’s blue eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion. “You need to learn to let go, Storm, or you may truly become a case file on my terminal.”

  “You can’t treat me like a child just because I got grazed by a bullet!”

  “Anna,” Mavel warned.

  “Grazed by a bullet?” Chief stood. He was, at least, two heads taller than her—almost Mavel’s height. His large belly sagged as he straightened out to show his full authority. “I read the EMT’s report. The bullet went through you, and you want more?”

  “Ray Dawson was there.” She could barely contain her sizzling anger as she said that bastard’s name.

  “Why was an Anti-Modded politician there?” he asked with an arched brow. His irritation seemed to be replaced by curiosity as h
e tapped his chin and retreated back into his chair.

  “He was the one who ordered his lackey to get rid of me and Leila. After that, I don’t know where he went or how he bypassed all the security feeds.”

  Chief spoke as if he was chewing on every word. “You are implying that one of the top pureblooded politicians was involved in a scandal.”

  “I know what I said. And yes, that is what I’m saying. Dawson was there, and I bet you’ll find his fingerprints and DNA somewhere in that suite.”

  Chief rubbed his face, his expression turning sour. “Jamen will take charge of this case from now on. It has become too personal for you to continue.”

  She erupted out of her seat. Her shoulder screamed, sending her nerve endings into overdrive as her stitches tore from the sudden movement. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in pain. Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm the storm inside of her when Mavel blocked her view of Chief with his body.

  He bowed in respect. “Let her continue with the case, sir.”

  Annalise stared at him with a slack jaw. Why is he bowing his head for me? She swatted him on the shoulder, and her stitches ripped further. “Chief, I will take a few days to cool off, and you can have Jamen look into this case in the meantime. But, I implore you, let me keep this case. I don’t want to quit halfway. I want justice for those who have passed away.”

  Chief’s pale eyes seemed to see directly into her soul. “Fine, you may resume after three days of mandatory rest. In that time, you are not permitted to enter these premises or access any information related to the case, understood?”

  Her lips stretched into a grimace since her shoulder hurt too much to produce a proper smile. “Thanks, Chief. I won’t disappoint you!”

  “Hand over your badge and gun,” he said. “I can’t have you defying orders.”

  Annalise undid her belt. She pulled off her badge and took her pistol out of her holster, setting both items on the desk.

  “Don’t forget to give your statement to Jamen when he comes back. Dismissed.”

  The heavens finally sprinkled some luck her way. At the door, she glanced at the ceiling and mentally thanked anyone who was listening. As they escaped Chief’s stern gaze, Annalise grew lightheaded.

  Mavel took her hand and brought her to the coffee area. He touched the back of her shoulder and his fingers came away with blood. “Your stitches have come undone. Why didn’t you say you were in pain?”

  “I had to convince him. It was either that or abandoning the case,” she replied, struggling to stay upright.

  Mavel grasped her shoulders when her legs gave way. “Anna, you’re an idiot.”

  Bare aquamarine walls were the view Annalise was faced with from her hospital bed. She hated hospitals. Every time she had visited one, the doctors would fuss over her because she was the only daughter of William Storm, and not because she was just like any other human being. Another reason behind her foul mood was the fact that fewer people returned from them than went in. But, she didn’t fear death. As Mavel had once said, ‘It would get them eventually’. She wholeheartedly agreed. Be it today, tomorrow, or a few decades from now, there just wasn’t much living going on in her life. She was a puppet to her father and a joke in the office.

  The door to her room opened, and Jamen strode in followed closely by Devlin—the man her father was too friendly with.

  Devlin studied her with great intensity and smiled. “You look better than I expected.”

  “Thanks.” She turned her attention to her superior. “Any news on Dawson and the case?”

  Jamen gave her a flat look. “I’m not allowed to disclose case information to you. Not yet anyway.”

  She rolled her eyes. Looks like the Chief had more than enough time to put a stick up Jamen’s ass while she was getting new stitches. Her eyes wandered over to Devlin who took a seat in the visitor’s chair.

  Facing her, Devlin activated the recording function on his comms. “Can you tell me exactly what and who you saw in the Macabre last night?”

  Annalise shot Jamen a questioning look, yet he only glared at the other man.

  “Who are you exactly to be asking this?” she asked Devlin.

  He smirked and retrieved a business card from his inner jacket pocket.

  She accepted it and read it. “What’s a Falcon Group? I’ve never heard of it.”

  He relaxed into his seat. “We oversee anything and everything regarding the well-being of the citizens as well as keep the government officials in check.”

  “So you are some kind of policing organisation behind the scenes?”

  Devlin chuckled. “We are the police for the DPD and City Hall if that’s how you want to put it.”

  “I’ll wait outside,” Jamen muttered. His apprehension and jerky walk towards the door interested her.

  Did he not like Devlin in particular or the Falcon Group?

  “I will ask again. Please recite the events that happened in the Macabre.”

  She sighed. There wasn’t much of a choice. If the senior detective didn’t complain or say anything, what right did she have?

  “My servant and I went undercover as a couple to enter the club. Jamen and his partner gave us a little time to get ahead before they came in and distracted the staff long enough for us to find Leila Green. I split up with Mavel and went into the VIP section. I was caught, got shot, and fought for a gun with a guy who’s in custody. Once I took care of him—or I thought I did—I undid Leila’s restraints, which is when—” she broke off, unable to complete that sentence.

  Devlin nodded. His intent gaze burned holes in her face, and she tried her best to ignore it. He deactivated his wrist comms and rose with a pleasant smile that revealed his dimples. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Annalise. I will collect you on Wednesday around 6 p.m. from your place.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The City Hall gathering. I believe you are my date for the night.”

  “I never agreed to that!”

  Devlin took hold of her hand. His silky lips left a feather-light kiss on her knuckles. “It would bring me much pleasure if you would attend.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she tore her hand out of his grasp. “I finished the statement. Please leave.”

  “Since it wasn’t a ‘no’, I will see you on Wednesday, Annalise.”

  Against her will, her stomach did a somersault from the affectionate way he said her name. Who is that man?

  11

  Undecided

  Annalise peeled her eyes open to find she was still in the hospital bed. The unnerving smell of antiseptic and aloe-scented healing gel hung in the humidified air. She sat upright and looked around the room.

  Mavel was sitting in the visitor’s chair, his arms were folded and his chest rose and fell in slow succession. He was asleep, and she didn’t plan on waking him up.

  She slipped out from under the sheets. Her lilac hospital gown brushed her knees, tickling her. An ache in her shoulder remained, but she ignored it.

  Taking another quick scan of the room, she spied the bathroom and padded along the smooth linoleum to it. After locking the door, one look in the mirror told her how bad she needed some make-up. Her porcelain skin had become pasty grey, her hair a tangled dark mess, and she was in desperate need of some minty toothpaste.

  Annalise washed her face in the sink and combed her fingers through her hair, making it somewhat presentable. She rinsed her mouth a few times to get the awful aftertaste out. There was no way she was going to stay in the hospital another day, not when there was a murderer on the loose.

  Back in her room, Mavel was already awake and flicking through the channels on the holo-screen.

  “How can you always watch the news and nothing else?” she asked.

  He stopped what he was doing. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” She rushed over to the small white dresser and pulled out her garments.

  Suddenly, Mavel’s hand gripped her
wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving this place. I’ve got work to do.”

  He grabbed her clothes and shoved them back in the drawer. “You are suspended from work, and the doctor said you need to rest.”

  “I can rest at home. You know I hate hospitals. Let’s get out of here, please?”

  Mavel seemed torn. He gently brushed the bandages peeking out from the neckline of her gown. Hurt contorted his serious expression, and he sighed. “I will inform the nurse.”

  When he left, she started changing. Taking the hospital gown off was the easy part. The material fell to her ankles, and she kicked it away. She carefully unfolded her trousers on the floor and attempted to put them on with one hand, which was like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube in less than a second. After the strenuous struggle, she managed to tug them on, and Mavel walked in.

  She could only thank the maker that she had her bra on. Instead of doing what a gentleman would do—turning around—he drew close and lifted her shirt off the bed.

  He held it open for her without another word.

  Annalise faced away from him. Her cheeks caught fire as she stared at their reflection in the window. Ever since this case began, she had embarrassed herself in front of him more times in a single week than she had done in her lifetime. But, he remained unfazed as if none of it mattered.

  Mavel helped her find her sleeves and pulled the material over her arms in a drawn out manner. The heat from his proximity sent tingles down her spine. He drew closer when her shirt covered her shoulders. From behind, his hot breath brushed her cheek.

  “Is buttoning up going to be a problem for you?” he asked, and she couldn’t tell whether he was mocking her or truly wondering.

  Annalise turned around. Her face was right below his. Two hooded silver eyes captured every detail of her startled expression. He closed the last inch of space between them, landing his soft lips on hers.

  She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue entry and revelled in the exquisite sensations he dispensed on her with his tender caress. Unable to stop, she grasped his dark shirt, pulling him to her.