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“The fact that you call yourselves the ‘bro squad’ is a problem on its own.” Derek retorted. “You two need to put on your big boy pants and stop calling yourselves that. This isn’t a frat house; it’s the CIA.”
“Anyway,” Marcus rolled his eyes and returned his attention to me. “We were transferred and assigned to this Unit two years ago. Both of us came from the LA Unit.” Marcus gestured between Dean and himself, throwing a quick glare at Derek. That did not surprise me in the least, and I could tell that there was a lot of tension between Derek and him. Whether it was in jest or serious, I still wasn't sure. I hoped they actually got along because this case would be a shit show if the two of them couldn't work together.
A grin tugged on his mouth as he continued, “If anyone is going to show you a good time here, it would be Dean and me, and since we are on assignment together, even more of a reason. Let’s consider it a team-building exercise.” Marcus rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“I don’t think AJ is looking for a quick and dirty bar bathroom fuck, Marcus.” Derek rubbed his brow with the back of his thumb and sighed as if he felt sorry for him.
“That wasn’t what I was planning for him, but by all means, Derek, please show us how not to get our dicks wet.” Marcus clapped back. I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head and checking my watch for the time. Going out with these three could end up being a pretty good time, especially if this kind of banter continues.
“Look, I’ve got a few more hours here to go over the assignment details and notes—get myself up to speed on everything that has happened here so far. But if you guys are free tonight, I would gladly accept being shown what this city has to offer. Just let me know where to go and what time to be there.” What’s the worst that could happen?
Marcus and Dean exchanged a glance as if they were plotting something. Just as I was about to retract my statement, they both nodded and spoke in unison, “The Landing.”
Without another word, they both turned and exited my office after informing me that I needed to look the place up and dress appropriately. Apparently, The Landing had a dress code, and what I was wearing wasn’t part of it.
Derek laughed and shook his head as he got up from where he was sitting and followed the two of them out the door, speaking over his shoulder, “I hope you know what kind of hell you’ve just unleashed on yourself with these two.”
“Oh, not just on myself. You’re coming too, Derek.” I said with a playful tone.
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head with a light chuckle.
“See you tonight, Derek,” I said amusedly. He hummed as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
I spent a good part of an hour staring blankly at the folder in front of me. It was thinner than most of our case files, which meant this case would be challenging. There wasn't enough essential information; it would be like putting a puzzle together with only five out of one hundred pieces.
I leaned forward, picked up the folder, reclined back into my chair, and pulled out the first page. I rubbed my brow with the back of my thumb as I continued flipping through the pages that documented each of the victims who were killed.
There wasn’t anything significant that caught my eye; it was a lot of miscellaneous information regarding the employees who were kidnapped and their job descriptions. Most were lab technicians, and one was a research and development assistant. None of the employees had anything in common aside from working for Atwater in the same lab building—no wonder this case was becoming such a pain in the ass that they now needed four of us to work it.
Based on what I’ve already read, I can’t find a clear motive for these kidnappings and murders outside of the drug being the only decent assumption. Whoever is behind all of this clearly doesn’t care to leave behind a trail of bodies—or lack thereof, seeing as some of the scenes only had pieces of the bodies left. These fuckers were sick and twisted.
One of the victims was found strung up against a wall and skinned alive. It had been days before we were alerted to the body, and by the time we got to it, it had already started to decompose. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the smell radiating off the body. One thing I never had to experience was seeing the scenes firsthand and in person. Everything I know and have seen has been either photos, videos, or stories from Agents who were there.
I stopped when I reached the documents regarding our potential suspects. All three of the profiles were of what looked to be—women. This took me by surprise, seeing as the brutality left behind for us was not something I would think a woman capable of creating.
Several of our Agents either threw up or had to be escorted away from the scenes shortly after they entered. Even I had a sour stomach after just looking at the photos of the scenes.
The photos of the women were all blurry and vague, most likely taken from a nearby CCTV camera. I had to hand it to them; they were brilliant and knew what they were doing. They were all dressed from head to toe in black and wore masks covering most of their faces. Even their hair was covered by hoods, leaving us with no identifying features. They presented themselves like trained assassins for hire. Even the vehicles they drove in the footage changed every time—it was as if they changed out their cars with every kidnapping.
These women were good, and they were going to be a pain in the ass to track down. Biting my thumbnail, I closed the folder and threw it back on my desk, glaring at it as if it would solve itself if I stared hard enough.
I leaned forward, rested my elbows on the desk, and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. After a few minutes, I let out a deep sigh and opened the folder back to where I had left off. I spent several long hours diving into each suspect profile and the assumptions made based on the security camera images.
The day dragged on, and by the end of it, I had a headache and just wanted to get the hell out of this room.
CHAPTER 3
Chyler
“Chyler,” the barista called my name, and I approached the counter to pick up my caramel macchiato. I usually order an iced chai latte, but I was craving caramel today, so I went with my second favorite drink on their ever-changing menu.
While I’ve always enjoyed a good coffee, I found I gravitated more towards energy drinks for my caffeine needs. The higher the caffeine level, the better. But Madison is more of the coffee type, and I wasn’t going to say no to her request for it today.
“Madison.” Madison picked up her drink and followed me as we left the crowd of patrons waiting for their orders to be made. She loved her black coffee, which always made me wonder why she even bothered coming here instead of just making it at home. However, she said she preferred Caribou to any other, so here we are.
With our drinks in hand, we walked onto the front patio that ran along the sidewalk. We found an available table in the corner, away from the doors. It was more of a makeshift patio than a proper one, but I wasn't going to complain. It was better than being stuck inside on such a beautiful day.
We both sat down, placed our bags on the ground next to our chairs, and gazed across the street to the sculpture park. The grass was lush and green, and this park, in particular, was used for art displays sponsored by the local art gallery. There were multiple large sculptures spread throughout; they were beautiful and attracted a lot of tourists to the area.
