CRIME SOLVING

CRIME SOLVING
"What on earth do you think you’re doing?" I demanded, ensuring we were alone before confronting him.

Dax crossed his arms, looking unfazed. "I don’t understand."

"Don’t play dumb with me. You’re the one who told the head officer to make me your partner, right?" My anger boiled over, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Of course not. Why would I even do that?" His voice was calm, too calm.

"Because you have every reason to," I shot back. "Look, it’s already unfortunate enough that we both ended up here, but I want to avoid you as much as possible."

"That’s not even possible," he said, his tone frustratingly rational. "We work in the same space. How exactly do you plan on avoiding me?"

"I don’t care how. You’re going to go in there and convince our boss to give me a new partner."

"But I wasn’t the one who made the decision in the first place," he countered. "And I don’t mind being partners with you."

"Well, I do!" I snapped. "So go in there and say something to make him change his mind."

"Brianna, I can’t do that. He’s the boss. He makes the rules."

I exhaled sharply, trying to keep my temper in check. I wanted to scream, to do something, anything to make this situation change.

How was he so calm? Like nothing had ever happened between us?

Maybe everyone expected me to forgive him, to let bygones be bygones, but the truth was—I wasn’t even holding a grudge against Dax.

I just couldn’t work with him.

It was better if we pretended we didn’t even know each other.

"Fine. If you won’t do it, I will," I said, spinning on my heel to march back inside.

But before I could take another step, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

"Brianna, if this is about what happened eight years ago—" His voice softened. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I left without waiting for you to wake up."

I tensed, my heart pounding.

What are you talking about? I almost said the words out loud.

Then, an idea crept into my mind, and I smirked inwardly.

Maybe playing dumb wasn’t such a bad idea.

Maybe pretending I didn’t remember him at all would be my way out.

"The accident… the one that happened on your birthday," he added, his gaze searching mine for something—recognition, maybe.

"Oh, that?" I let out a small, fake chuckle. "I don’t really know much about it. I hit my head pretty hard, so I lost most of my memories."

His expression shifted. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

"The only thing I do remember about you," I continued, staring him dead in the eye, "is that you were incredibly annoying… and that you liked playing with people’s feelings."

"You lost your memories?" His voice dropped, and for the first time, he looked shocked.

Why did he seem so surprised?

Wouldn’t it be better for both of us if I forgot everything?

"So, let’s just go back inside and have the head officer assign me a new partner," I said, shifting the conversation back to what mattered.

He shook his head. "He’s not going to listen to you. He never goes back on his word."

Dax was still staring at me, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to piece something together.

Is he suspicious?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, folding my arms. "You and I don’t get along, and we both know it. Whenever we’re in the same room, we’re either screaming at each other or—"

"That was when we were teenagers," he cut in. "We’re adults now. Adults respect each other’s decisions."

I scoffed. "Then respect mine and let me get a different partner."

He smirked slightly, shaking his head. "The only way you can get reassigned is by earning a rank. Every case you solve earns you one."

I frowned. "And how many ranks do I need to get a new partner?"

"I don’t know. That’s up to the boss." He shrugged. "Just try and impress him in the next two years."

Two years?

I clenched my jaw. Two years of working alongside Dax? This was not happening.

But as much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to wonder—did he actually believe my lie?

Does he really think I lost my memories?

It didn’t matter.

He would find out the truth sooner or later.

Especially once he got in touch with Eric. They hadn’t spoken in years, but I knew Dax would want to see him again. And once that happened, Eric would surely spill the truth.

As if on cue, Dax’s next words made my stomach twist.

"Can I have Eric’s number?"

My pulse quickened.

So he was going to find out sooner than I expected.

I forced a neutral expression. "I don’t have his private line."

Dax’s eyes darkened slightly. "Brianna, I know that’s a lie. So just give me his number. And don’t even think about telling me he’s not in Chicago—because I know he is."

How does he read my mind so easily?

"Fine. This is his business line—call him." I handed him Eric’s business card.

"He’s a CEO?" he asked, glancing at the card.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Do I really need to answer that? It’s obvious."

"Let’s go. We have a case to solve."

"We?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Brianna, we. There’s no way you’re getting a partner of your own without working for it and proving that you deserve one."

I sighed in frustration but followed him to his desk. He gestured toward another desk beside his.

"This one’s yours. It comes with your own computer."

I frowned. "Why am I sitting so close to you?"

"Because I’m building my own team," he said, leaning against his desk. "With every case I solve, I add a new partner—until I know my team is strong enough."

"And I just happen to be the first member of your little group?"

"Yes, but not for long. We’re solving this case together." He dropped a case file onto my desk.

I pulled it toward me. "Brief me."

Flipping the file open, my breath hitched at the crime scene photos. A murder. The victim’s body sprawled across the floor, his neck sliced open in a clean, precise cut.

This part of the job still unsettles me—seeing the pictures, watching the videos, sometimes even witnessing the crime scene firsthand.

Whoever did this was methodical. Calculated.

"So, any suspects so far?"

"His girlfriend is our primary suspect. She’s still in custody, but we don’t have enough evidence to charge her."

I studied the picture again. "I’m not saying she couldn’t have done it, but this guy looks like he works out. There’s no way a single fragile woman could overpower and kill a man this size."

Dax nodded. "I know. That’s why we believe she didn’t do it alone. But so far, she’s not talking."

"Has the weapon been found?"

"Not yet. An autopsy is scheduled, but until then, our priority is finding the weapon. If we can prove she used it, we have a case. If not, we might be looking at a third party."

"So, we’re heading to the crime scene?"

"Exactly. Let’s hit the road."

Dax’s POV

I can't believe I couldn't convince her to leave her bike behind. I mean, I have a car—we could have just taken it instead.

But then again, I’m not surprised. The Brianna I know has never listened to anyone but herself. She hasn’t changed much.

I don't know if she was lying about losing her memories or not, but meeting Eric will clear things up. I just hope he isn’t still holding a grudge against me.

I parked outside the victim's apartment and stepped out of my car. Brianna did the same, and we headed upstairs in silence.

Bright yellow barricade tape stretched across the entrance, warning off bystanders.

“This is a mess,” Brianna muttered, surveying the scene.

"Not really," I countered. "This might give us the evidence we need."

"I get that, but it looks like the victim fought back. Maybe we can find a fingerprint or something."

"That’s already been checked. The only fingerprints found belong to his girlfriend."

"What about a street camera?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't one."

She frowned. "What kind of street doesn't have security cameras?"

"They claimed the system was faulty and never bothered to fix it."

I handed her a pair of gloves. She pulled them on, and we started combing through the apartment, searching for anything useful.

An hour passed with nothing to show for it.

"This is pointless," Brianna sighed in frustration. "The killer was way too careful."

"I know," I admitted, "but we still need to find something. Anything." I glanced at the victim’s body. "Can you identify the weapon used just by looking at the wound?"

"If you're referring to the cut on his neck, it's from a knife."

"I figured that much, but what kind of knife?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, exasperated. "We just need to find a knife with the victim's blood on it."

"Exactly."

She huffed. "You know what? I’m going outside to check for cameras. I’m good at spotting them."

"But I already told you the street cameras don’t work."

"Leave that to me," she said, turning on her heel and disappearing down the hallway.

Brianna’s POV

I pulled off my gloves and climbed the stairs leading to the rooftop. From here, the view of the city was breathtaking, but I had more pressing concerns.

I scanned the street carefully, searching for security cameras. Within moments, I spotted four positioned at different angles.

The fourth one was almost hidden, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. There was no way all four were malfunctioning.

"Find anything yet?"

I turned to see Dax standing behind me.

"Kind of," I said. "How many cameras are on this street?"

"Two," he replied, pointing at them. "That one and the one next to the streetlight."

"Well, lucky for us, I found two more. And they have the perfect angle to capture anyone entering the victim’s apartment."

Dax frowned. "Then why did the security officer at the CCTV office say there were only two cameras instead of four?"

"Because he has something to hide." I met his gaze. "We need to talk to him and see what he has to say."

"Wait," Dax warned. "Confronting him doesn't mean we can arrest him. We have no concrete evidence."

"Lying about the cameras is evidence."

"He could easily claim he didn't know they existed."

I bit my lip. "So what do we do?"

Dax held up a small object. "I found something in the apartment that might help us."

I took it from him, my eyes widening. "A phone?"

"Yeah, but the battery’s dead. We need to charge it and see what’s inside."

I pulled my gloves back on, trying to turn the device on
, but he was right—it was completely drained.

Dax handed me a tamper-evident bag. "Put it in here. We'll check it back at the station."

I sealed the phone inside the bag, then followed him out of the building as we left.