Chapter 66: Heist Day — Part 1
[Mid-Wilshire Station — October 31, 2019, 5:47 AM]
The station was transformed.
Orange and black streamers decorated every surface. Fake cobwebs covered the corners. A skeleton wearing a police uniform sat in Grey's chair—apparently an annual tradition that Grey tolerated with the weariness of long experience.
Teams gathered in the roll call room, tension electric in the air. Tim's team occupied the far corner—me, Lucy, Sergeant Chen, and Emma as outside consultant. Nolan's coalition clustered near the whiteboard. Lopez's legal alliance had brought actual briefcases.
Captain Andersen entered at exactly 6 AM, carrying a sealed envelope and wearing the expression of someone who'd drawn referee duty against her will.
"Attention," she said. "The Second Annual Halloween Heist officially begins. Rules are posted. Violations result in point deductions or disqualification at my discretion. Questions about rules should be directed to Sergeant Grey, who will pretend to care about your concerns."
Grey, standing in the corner, raised a coffee cup in acknowledgment.
"The trophy is hidden somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area. Your task is to find it before any other team. Points are awarded for completing challenges, with bonus points for style, creativity, and not embarrassing this department." Andersen opened the envelope, removed a card. "Your first clue."
She read aloud: "Where the flavors of autumn meet the pride of the city, seek wisdom from the one who serves sunrise to sunset."
Silence. Then, simultaneously, all teams pulled out their phones.
"Autumn flavors," Emma murmured beside me. "Pumpkin something? Fall menu?"
"Pride of the city," Tim muttered, consulting his own notes. "LAPD? City Hall? Dodger Stadium?"
My recall processed the clue structure, cross-referenced it with local businesses, and identified the most likely target within seconds. "Pumpkin Joe's Taco Truck. It's a Halloween tradition—serves pumpkin-spiced breakfast tacos every October. 'Sunrise to sunset' references their hours."
Tim stared at me. "How do you know that?"
"I read a lot of local food blogs."
"Since when?"
"Since I realized Heist clues often reference local businesses."
For a moment, Tim looked like he might question my research habits further. Then competitive focus took over. "Move. Everyone. Now."
We moved.
Pumpkin Joe's Taco Truck — 6:34 AM
We weren't the only team who'd figured out the clue.
Nolan's coalition had arrived thirty seconds before us, already engaged in conversation with the truck's owner—a broad man in a pumpkin-decorated apron who seemed entirely too cheerful for six-thirty in the morning.
"Welcome to the challenge!" Pumpkin Joe boomed. "First challenge of the Heist: the Sunrise Spectacular. Contestants must consume five pumpkin-spiced breakfast tacos in under ten minutes to earn their next clue."
Lucy's expression suggested she'd rather face armed suspects.
"I'll do it," I volunteered.
"Are you sure?" Emma asked. "Five tacos in ten minutes is aggressive."
"I have a high metabolism and a commitment to victory."
Tim nodded approval. From Nolan's team, Jackson stepped up as their competitor. Lopez's team hadn't arrived yet—their legal analysis of the clue was apparently taking longer than expected.
Joe lined up the tacos—each one alarmingly large, dripping with pumpkin-spiced sauce and filled with scrambled eggs, chorizo, and something that might have been sweet potato.
"On your marks," Joe announced. "Get set. EAT!"
I'd underestimated the tacos.
The first one went down smoothly—surprisingly tasty, actually. The second was manageable. The third required determination. The fourth induced mild regret.
The fifth was a war of attrition.
Beside me, Jackson was struggling harder. His face had taken on a greenish tint, and his chewing had slowed to deliberate, mechanical movements. The rest of Nolan's team watched with expressions ranging from concern to amusement.
My recall helpfully reminded me of competitive eating techniques I'd watched once: small bites, constant chewing, don't think about what you're consuming. I applied the principles with brutal efficiency.
"Done!" I slammed my plate down, stomach protesting but contents conquered.
Jackson, three-quarters through his fifth taco, made a sound of defeat and set down his food. "I yield."
Tim's fist pumped in triumph. Lucy cheered. Emma looked simultaneously proud and concerned about my dietary choices.
Joe handed me an envelope containing the second clue. "Congratulations! You've earned full points plus a bonus for finishing first. The next clue awaits."
I opened the envelope, read the contents, and felt my confusion grow.
"The body speaks in languages older than words. Find the one who reads its stories in the house where healing happens."
"Medical reference," Emma said immediately. "The body speaking—that's symptoms. Reading its stories—diagnosis. House of healing—hospital."
"But which hospital?" Tim asked.
"Cedars-Sinai," I said. "It's the largest trauma center in LA. If Grey's keeping with the 'pride of the city' theme, he'd choose somewhere prominent."
"And the 'one who reads its stories'?"
Emma smiled. "A pathologist. Someone who literally reads the body's stories through examination."
Tim's eyes widened with understanding. "Dr. Martinez. The station's consulting forensic pathologist. She works at Cedars-Sinai."
"Then we move."
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center — 7:23 AM
Dr. Martinez was waiting in the pathology department with a puzzle that would have stumped anyone without medical training.
A series of symptom cards were laid out on a table, each describing a fictional patient's condition. The challenge: correctly diagnose all five patients using only the symptoms provided, then arrange the diagnoses in the order they would appear in a standard medical textbook.
Lopez's team had finally caught up, their legal analysis having eventually reached the correct conclusion through exhaustive deliberation. Nolan's team was still working on the symptom cards when we arrived.
Emma approached the table with surgical confidence.
"Patient one: crushing chest pain, shortness of breath, sweating—classic MI, myocardial infarction." She moved the card. "Patient two: sudden severe headache, stiff neck, photophobia—subarachnoid hemorrhage." Another card moved. "Patient three: fever, confusion, rash that doesn't blanch—meningococcal meningitis."
She continued through all five diagnoses in under three minutes, arranging them in textbook order with the ease of someone who'd spent years memorizing exactly this kind of information.
Dr. Martinez nodded approval and handed over the next clue. "Your medical consultant is impressive."
"She's the best," I said.
Emma's slight blush was the only acknowledgment of the compliment.
Morning Summary — 11:47 AM
By noon, Tim's team had completed four challenges and accumulated a significant point lead.
The taco eating challenge had given us an early advantage. Emma's medical expertise had crushed the diagnosis puzzle. Sergeant Chen's unexpected knowledge of Los Angeles history had solved a riddle about the city's founding that stumped every other team. My own contribution—identifying a coded message hidden in a series of Halloween decorations—had earned style points for creative interpretation.
We gathered in a park halfway between challenge locations, reviewing our status.
"Ahead by sixty-three points," Tim reported, consulting his scorebook. "But afternoon challenges are worth double. If we lose focus now, the lead evaporates."
"What's the next challenge?" Lucy asked.
"Don't know yet. The clue reveals at noon exactly." Tim checked his watch. "Twelve minutes."
My stomach was still protesting the taco onslaught. Emma had acquired water and antacids from somewhere, both of which I accepted gratefully.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
"I'll live. Victory requires sacrifice."
"Victory requires not dying of taco-induced distress."
"Same thing, sometimes."
The noon clue arrived via text to all team leaders simultaneously:
The afternoon hunt begins. Report to Griffith Park Observatory for the relay of champions. Double points await the swift and clever. Trophy location revealed to the team that completes all afternoon challenges first.
Tim's expression sharpened. "Relay of champions. That's a physical challenge."
"I can handle physical," I said.
"You just ate five massive tacos."
"I said I can handle it. Didn't say I'd enjoy it."
We moved toward the Observatory, competitive fire burning despite the digestive protests. The real chaos was about to begin.
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