Alex Craven finished the recording. He let it play out to the last second.
Then his finger started tapping. Slow. Measured. Against the edge of his desk.
Muttering under his breath: "I don't get why I'm a pervert for enjoying culture. I like seeing women in bunny suits. So I don't get why that's a problem."
A soft knock.
The door opened. The technician from earlier slipped in. Behind him, ten men. Ten shadows.
Some went straight to the walls. Rag to blood. Blood to rag. No sound but the wet scrape.
Others hit the floor. Mops moving in arcs. Erasing.
One man dragged in a steel drum. Heavy. Hollow.
Right behind him, three more. Bone saws in hand. Teeth glinting.
A chemist followed. No words. He poured chemicals into the drum. Liquid caught the light. He stirred. Once. Twice.
He looked at the men with the saws. "It's ready."
The saws began.
One of the crew was humming. Off-key. Cheerful. He tossed bone into the drum like it was trash day.
The technician crossed the room. Stopped at Alex's desk. From his jacket, he pulled a burner phone. Laid it down.
Alex picked it up. No hesitation. His thumb moved. Numbers from memory.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
"Alex Craven. You better have a good reason for calling me." Sebastian Wright's voice was ice through the speaker.
Alex swallowed. "Oh—oh yes sir, Mr. Wright. I have something urgent to report to you. The police and the FBI have started looking into... the auto shop murders. And the FBI are investigating The Core. And they believe Ethan Chen has something to do with your grandson's death."
The room didn't stop. Bone saws buzzed. The drum gurgled. The humming never stopped.
Silence.
Then: "You've done well, Alex Craven. I will keep what you said in mind."
Another pause. "Do not worry about the Ethan Chen brat. We will investigate that situation ourselves."
"Also. What I want you to do now is throw a bone to the dogs. But make sure it cannot be traced back to you or to the organizations that we run. Is that clear?"
Alex's knuckles whitened around the phone. "Yes sir. I understand."
"If that's all—"
"Oh. One more thing, Alex." Sebastian cut in. "That person who's humming. Very annoying. Deal with that."
_Click._
The line went dead.
Alex set the phone down. His eyes found the technician. "Bring at least six disposable people to me."
The technician nodded. Gone.
Minutes later, six bodies filled the doorway. Six ghosts. Alex told them what he needed. No details wasted.
When he finished, he pulled the Desert Eagle.
The cleaning crew was nearly done.
Alex raised his voice. "Oh wait. There's one more thing that you must do."
He walked past the mops, past the blood, straight to the humming man. The one feeding bone into the drum.
"Hold your head over inside of the drum," Alex said. "Tell me what it smells like."
The man obeyed. He leaned in.
Alex fired.
One shot.
The man's body folded into the drum. The solution took him. No splash. No scream. Just silence where the humming had been.
Alex turned. The Desert Eagle still smoked.
He smiled at the six. "Okay. So basically this is what will happen to any of you who dares cross me. Am I understood?"
Six heads nodded. Not together. Not clean.
"Good," Alex said. "I'm glad we can all get along. Now get out of my office."
They shuffled toward the door.
Alex's voice stopped them. "Oh yeah before I forget. Don't worry about your families. They will be well compensated. Just make sure that you turn yourselves in."
The door closed.
Only the drum and cleaning crew remained.
Meanwhile back in the VIP, Karaoke Room
Decker got up off the chair and yawned.
"I feel like I've been sitting in this chair for three months straight," he said.
He stretched, then dropped his hands. "It's time we get back on the street. Let's see what we can dig up."
"First, we head to the hospital. Check on Ethan Chen. See what we can get from him. After that, we patrol and compare notes."
Agent Williams set her cup down. "Agreed. If Ethan's awake, he might give us something we can't find in files."
Alvin nodded, pushing back from the table. "And if he's not, we at least put eyes on him. Can't sit here debating ghosts forever."
Decker smirked. "Looks like we have a consensus."
Wayne reached over and killed the music. The room went quiet.
"Then we move," Williams said.
They gathered their things.
One by one, they filed out of the VIP room. The neon from the hallway hit them first.
The hunt started again.
A voice cut through the hall.
"Hey! are you, guys Leaving so soon?"
Alex Craven appeared at the corner, hands in pockets, smile easy. Too easy.
Alvin stopped. "Yeah. We've got something urgent to take care of."
Alex walked up, opened his arms. He pulled Alvin into a hug.
"Take care, my friend," Alex said. "Travel safely."
They broke apart.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Agent Williams froze.
Her nose twitched.
"Do you guys smell that?" she said. "It smells like chemicals."
Alex didn't miss a beat. "Oh, yeah. I'm having some renovations done in my office. Might be the paint you're smelling."
Williams stared at him. Color rose in her face. Suspicion.
But she let it go.
"Renovations," she said quietly.
Alex nodded. "That's right."
Alvin stepped forward. "We'll be in touch, Alex."
"Always," Alex replied.
They moved past him.
The door to the street opened.
Outside, the morning air hit them. Clean. Cold.
Alvin checked his watch. "10:30."
He frowned. "Wow. We've been in there a lot longer than I expected."
Agent Wayne exhaled. "Time moves different in private rooms than it does outside."
Decker yawned, rubbing his jaw. "Just an hour. Over an hour. Man, I felt like we were in that room for at least three months."
They crossed the lot. Doors unlocked. Engines turned over.
For the next two hours, they drove.
No destination. Just streets. Alleyways. Patrol routes. The city rolling past in glass and concrete. They talked in pieces. Compared notes. Watched for shadows that didn't belong.
Two hours.
Then Decker's phone rang.
He picked it up.
"Hello! Go for Decker," he said.
Captain Larcon's voice came through. He sounded happy. Not excited. Just satisfied.
"We've got a breakthrough in the murder investigation of the five suspects," Captain Larcon said. "Six people have turned themselves in."
Decker's eyes flicked to Alvin.
"You no longer need to secretly investigate who killed the five suspects," Captain Larcon said.
"That's no longer necessary. The six people in custody, claimed they were family members of the guys from the auto shop. One tampered with the cameras. Another snuck the suspects out. Now they've turned themselves in after exacting their revenge."
After Decker hung up the phone, he looked over to Alvin and said, "We need to return to the station. This is a lot to digest, and really, this is a lot of bullshit. This whole situation does not add up. It does not compute."
Agent Wayne and Agent Williams, in the back seat, agreed with Decker.
Alvin turned the car around and sped right back to the station.
Once they arrived, Alvin and Decker headed to Captain Larcon's office, while Agent Wayne and Agent Williams stayed in the lounge area drinking coffee.
Alvin and Decker reached Captain Larcon's office and were greeted with a genuinely warm smile.
"Decker and Alvin sat across from Captain Larcon. The air in the room felt tight, like it was already holding the weight of something they hadn't been told yet.
"Captain! What the hell is going on?" Decker asked.
Captain Larcon didn't answer right away. He looked at them for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, as if deciding how much they were actually ready to hear.
He explained that six people had turned themselves in that morning.
"According to their statements, they are responsible for the vanishing act and for the deaths of the five suspects in custody."
Alvin immediately pushed back.
"By the way, how did they even do it? Those suspects were under watch inside secured interrogation rooms."
Larcon didn't argue. He just continued.
"The operation was coordinated. Each person had a specific role."
Then he paused, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a mask.
Without ceremony, he tossed it across the desk toward them.
"The one who wore this mask was the man you met at the police station that night. He went by the name 'Shadow Snake.'"
He looked at them and added, "You guys remember him?"
Alvin picked the mask up slowly, turning it over in his hands. After a beat, he muttered, "Oh my god... it actually looks just like him."
Larcon nodded once, then continued.
"Another member hacked into internal security systems, wiping footage and making it appear as though the suspects simply vanished from their interrogation rooms.
A third was responsible for physically extracting them, disguised as custodian staff. He moved through the station unnoticed, pulling the suspects out cleanly and without confrontation. A fourth monitored everything in real time, coordinating the timing and making sure the entire operation stayed synchronized."
Larcon paused briefly before finishing.
"The fifth and sixth handled the final stage. They transported the suspects to the beach, interrogated them there, and then executed them."
A silence settled over the room.
He added, almost flatly, that all six had turned themselves in that morning.
Decker didn't look away from him.
Captain Larcon put his sunglasses on, then stood up and slowly removed them. He spoke in a cool, Horatio Caine voice: "This case is officially closed. There is no need for any further investigation—official or otherwise. We just closed two cases for the price of one."
Then he walked out of the office.
Down the hallway, he entered the lunchroom and began making himself a cup of coffee, like the entire conversation had already been put away somewhere permanent."
Decker and Alvin didn't speak.
They just looked at each other for a few seconds, the silence in Larcon's office saying what neither of them could yet. Then both chairs scraped back at once.
They caught up with him in the lunchroom.
Larcon was already there, spooning coffee into a mug, humming to himself like the office conversation had been filed and forgotten. The smell of burnt grounds hung in the air.
Alvin stepped in first.
"Captain. Something's wrong with this case."
Decker followed, voice lower but sharper. "Six people walk in and confess to a clean extraction, five executions, and a full security wipe? That's not a confession. That's a script."
Larcon didn't turn around. He kept stirring.
"The case is closed."
"It's too clean," Decker pressed. "We need to reopen it. We need to actually investigate."
That got him.
Larcon set the spoon down with a clink. He turned around, looked at both of them, and his voice dropped.
"Enough, Albert and Shawn. There is no need to continue investigating a case that has already been closed."
He took a step closer, the coffee steam curling between them.
"You two want to keep pushing this? I'll stop calling you detectives and start calling you clerks. Homicide doesn't need cowboys. I'll transfer both of you to cold cases. Murder files where the bodies were never found, and the paperwork never ends."
He picked his mug up again, like the matter was done.
"Drink your coffee. Or don't. But don't bring me another word about this."
Decker didn't blink. Alvin didn't either.
Larcon walked out, and this time, the coffee cup didn't rattle.
Alvin left the lunchroom fuming.
He and Decker went straight to the break area, where Agent Williams and Agent Wayne were waiting. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and the coffee machine in the corner was still gurgling from earlier.
They told them everything.
Larcon's confession. The six roles. The mask. The beach execution. The way he'd shut it down with a threat and a cup of coffee like it was already filed away.
Agent Williams listened without interrupting. Her jaw tightened, but she didn't speak.
Agent Wayne crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. When Alvin finished, he let out a slow breath.
"That's not closure," Wayne said. "That's a cover-up with paperwork attached."
Before anyone could answer, a voice boomed through the lounge area.
"Angela Williams. Peter Wayne. Your time is up."
All four of them turned.
Standing in the doorway was Martin King, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"Our joint operation with the DS PD is done," he said. "The two of you will be returning to Washington, DC with me this instant. I don't want to hear any arguments."
He let the words hang for a beat, then added, flat:
"Otherwise, the two of you will be handing in your badges and your guns."
To be continue.....