A Case Gone Cold - 2

The hours bled together as Ian pulled the documents close, comparing names, dates, and mugshots. A few of the victims had criminal records that were expunged, and how Paul got them, he didn’t know. He leaned forward and rubbed his temples.

I know I’m missing something obvious, but for the life of me I can’t figure it out.

His eyes scanned another report and were about to flip the page before pausing. A familiar name caught his attention: Mark Barker.

Ian frowned and pulled the other files closer. “Mark Baker, also known as Andrew Bake,” he read under his breath. “Changed his name after being accused of kidnapping a child at a daycare he worked at.”

Next to the report was a mug shot with long hair. He recalled Andrew’s hair was neatly trimmed when he died. Despite the little differences, it was easy to tell it was the same man.

Since all six people were criminals, was the killer a vigilante of some sort? Ian grabbed his notepad and jotted down the new information. Six people went missing over the past eight months, and all six had criminal records.

Sitting up, Ian stared at the names written in his notepad and let out a frustrated groan. Why were reformed criminals targeted? Did they get caught up in something they shouldn’t have? He wrote why down and circled it before connecting all the names with the dates they went missing.

Excuse me? The sudden feminine voice knocked Ian from his thoughts.

He lifted his head to see a young woman standing in front of his desk. Nadia. One of the newer rookies who transferred to this precinct a couple of months ago and graduated from the academy at the same time as him.

Nadia was slightly younger than him and was wearing beige pants with a white long-sleeved button-up shirt and a matching beige jacket. What really caught his attention was her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nadia stepped closer and folded her arms. “Wow, you like shit.”

“Thanks… That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“You’re welcome!”

He shook his head and returned his attention to his desk. “What do you want?”

“Paul told me to let you know that he’s expecting you at his desk.”

“Of course he did.” Ian let out an annoyed sigh.

“Oh, is something wrong with that?”

“Other than the fact that your training officer is a pain in the ass? Nothing.”

Nadia laughed. “Hey, don’t drag me into your little feud; I actually like my job.”

“Then, you should probably find a new trainer.”

“Nah, I like how lazy he is. It allows me to take cases I want without many issues.”

“Until you get IA on your ass.”

Nadia leaned closer and smiled. “Well, look at you actually making jokes for once.”

Ian snorted. “I wish it was a joke.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” She glanced at the papers again before looking back at him. “I’d ask about the case, but Paul’s is still waiting on you.

Ian glanced at his watch. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Sure thing, Mr.Grumpypants.” She gave him a quick wave before walking away — not waiting for a reply.

Mr.Grumpypants. Ian’s snorted. That girl is so weird.

With a reluctant sigh, he straightened his tie, stood up, and walked over toward Paul's area. He spotted Paul sitting with his feet propped up and lazily leaning back in his chair. Beside him sat a bald man covered in prison tattoos, shivering. The man’s eyes darted around the room, taking in every cop walking by and jumping at every noise.

“What do you want, Paul?” Ian asked, stopping in front of the desk.

Paul glanced up, a grin spreading across his face. “Ahh, finally, the young one appears. Once you treated me with respect; now, since you’ve grown, you’re disrespectful—keeping an old man like me waiting.”

“I’ve put up with enough of your shit over the years to know you’re not worthy of my respect.”

“And you wouldn’t be half the detective you are now if it weren’t for me taking you under my wing.”

“For that, you have some of my thanks, asshole. So what the fuck do you want?”

Paul gestured toward the bald man sitting beside him. “Well, figured I’d give more help. Meet Mark. Seems our boy here has a few things to tell us.”

Ian glanced at Mark, who stared back with a scowl. “Great. I’m busy, so can you hurry up and get on with what you have to say.”

“Aye, Paul, you really gonna let this f—” the bald man began, angrily looking at Ian.

Before he could finish, Paul's boot shot out and caught the man right in the ribs. The man doubled over with a groan and fell onto the floor.

“What did I tell you about saying disrespectful shit around me?” Paul snapped.

Ian snorted in amusement. That’s rich coming from you

Paul stood and grabbed the man by his leather jacket, forcing him back into the chair like a child. He brushed off Mark’s jacket, straightening the collar as though nothing happened. Mark’s face was red as he struggled to catch his breath.

A couple of officers looked at the commotion with a quizzical look.

Ian just shook his head. And this is exactly why I don’t respect him. Paul’s disregard for rules and his willingness to hurt people to get answers were unsettling.

“Nothing to see here, folks!” Paul shouted, settling back into his seat. “The man just had a little too much drink and fell.”

Not like the entire department doesn’t know you’re one write-up away from being put on leave.

“Do you need any other information, or am I free to go?” the bald man wheezed, his voice coming out strained.

Paul grinned. “Come on, Mark. Repeat what you told me to my partner.” He waved toward Ian, who was now standing with his arms crossed.

Mark sneered and spat on the floor. “I refuse to say shit, so either let me go or arrest me.”

Ian shrugged. “Don’t worry about being arrested, you skinhead piece of shit; you’re free to go and have sex with your sister.”

“Fuck you!” Mark lashed out, standing up quickly and knocking over his chair.

Paul reacted first and grabbed the man by the back of his neck and slammed his head onto the desk. Mark couldn’t retaliate before Paul drew his gun and pressed the muzzle against the back of his head.

“You have two choices: either tell him the information or I blow your brains out and claim self-defense.” He growled.

“L-look, man,” Mark stuttered

“Clock’s ticking.”

Ian grabbed Paul’s shoulder. “That’s enough, man. Put the gun away. If he doesn’t want to talk, fine! You already got the information.”

“Nah, I don’t like his attitude,” Paul replied, tightening his hold on Mark’s neck. “You better start counting soon, Mark; my finger is starting to get tired.”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Mark screamed, kicking his legs.

“Speak!”

“October 7th!” Mark said, his voice cracking. “Some man tried to kidnap me! He killed my crew before I even arrived.”

Ian’s eyes widened as he rushed to grab a notebook — surprised that the details he gave matched the descriptions of some of the crime scenes from the case.