Chapter 18: The Serial Case
Thursday, June 14, 2018 - Mid-Wilshire Station, Detective Division
The robbery case had been building for six weeks. Eight commercial locations hit—liquor stores, convenience stores, one pharmacy. No pattern identified yet, which is why Detective Murphy called for patrol input.
"Fresh eyes," she said, gesturing at the case board. "We're missing something."
I studied the locations, dates, times. My recall activated automatically, pulling every robbery report I'd encountered during my eight weeks.
Store A: Tuesday, April 17, 2:30 PM. Store B: Tuesday, April 24, 3:15 PM. Store C: Tuesday, May 1, 2:45 PM...
"They're all on Tuesdays," I said. "Between two and four PM."
Murphy turned. "What?"
"Every robbery. Tuesday afternoon. All near bus routes, specifically routes that have transfers nearby." I pointed at the map. "They hit a location, take the bus to a transfer point, switch routes. Makes tracking harder."
Tim walked over, studied the board. "He's right. Pattern's there."
Murphy checked the files. Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise. "Son of a bitch. How did we miss that?"
"Because you were looking at the stores, not the transit," I said. "If they're using buses, they need to hit during off-peak hours but while buses are still running frequently. Tuesday afternoon fits."
"Next Tuesday?" Tim asked.
"If the pattern holds, yes. And based on the geographic progression..." I traced the route on the map. "Here. This area. Three potential targets."
Murphy grabbed her phone. "I'm calling for surveillance teams. Bradford, you and Mercer take the northern target. We'll coordinate from here."
Tuesday, June 19, 2018 - Surveillance, 1:47 PM
Four hours of watching people buy cigarettes and lottery tickets. Tim brought coffee. We sat in the shop with a clear view of the store entrance.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
"Pattern's solid. They'll hit today."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I bought you four hours of overtime and coffee."
Tim almost smiled. "Fair enough."
At 2:23 PM, my danger sense pulsed. Not urgent. Just awareness. Someone entering the store moved wrong—scanning exits, checking for cameras, positioning near the register but not buying anything.
"Tim. Guy in the blue jacket."
"I see him."
We watched. The suspect cased the store for three minutes. Then a second person entered—lookout, positioning by the door. Standard two-man operation.
When the first suspect pulled a weapon on the clerk, we were already moving.
Tim Bradford's POV
The arrest was clean. Mercer positioned the shop to block the exit while I entered through the side door. Suspects didn't even see us coming until weapons were drawn and commands shouted.
Clean arrest. No shots fired. No injuries.
Murphy arrived with backup. "Good work. They're already confessing—whole gang operation. You broke it."
In the shop afterward, I looked at Mercer. "Good eyes. You spotted the behavioral cues before the crime even started."
"Just pattern recognition, sir."
"It's more than that. You're learning to trust your instincts while backing them up with observation." I pulled out of the parking lot. "Good police work, boot."
His smile was genuine. Kid needed to hear it more often.
Wednesday, June 20, 2018 - Interview Rooms
Ethan's POV
Six suspects in custody. Six separate interviews. I assisted with three, taking notes while Tim and the detectives questioned.
Suspect one: Lying about involvement. My chest tightened immediately. The lie detection fired clear and strong.
Suspect two: Lying about the getaway driver's identity. Sharper pressure.
Suspect three: Lying about how many robberies he'd participated in. The discomfort stacked.
Three hours. Three interviews. Lies layered on lies layered on more lies. Every false statement added weight to my chest until breathing felt difficult.
By suspect three's confession, my head pounded. The fluorescent lights were too bright. Tim's voice sounded too loud. Every sensation was amplified.
"You okay, boot?" Tim asked when we broke for the suspect's lawyer.
"Just tired. Long day."
His eyes narrowed. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"I'm fine."
"That's what people say before they're not fine." He studied me. "Take fifteen. Get air. Water. Food. Whatever you need."
I made it to the bathroom before the nausea hit. as domestic calls—extended exposure to liars created physical revolt. My body rejecting the accumulated deception.
I splashed water on my face, forced myself to breathe. The recall replayed every lie perfectly. Permanent record of deception I'd carry forever.
This is the cost. The physical toll. Can't run from it.
I returned to the interview room. Tim said nothing, but his expression was evaluating.
We closed the case by 6 PM. Commendations were mentioned. Good work all around.
But I drove home exhausted, head pounding, knowing I'd dream about every lie I'd heard. My recall wouldn't let them fade.
Thursday, June 21, 2018 - 3:17 AM
The nightmares woke me. Perfect recall meant perfect dream memory—suspects' faces, their voices, the exact cadence of each lie.
I gave up on sleep at 3:30. Opened my laptop. The Armstrong file blinked on screen.
Date: June 20, 2018 - Serial robbery case closed. Multiple interview sessions triggered severe lie detection overload. Physical toll significant. Note: Need better management strategy for sustained interrogations. Cannot afford to be incapacitated during critical moments.
Armstrong Status: Quiet for two weeks. No suspicious activity observed. Pattern suggests he's being careful. Continue monitoring.
Jackson Status: No incidents since June 1 traffic collision. Danger sense has triggered twice with false alarms—learning to distinguish genuine threats from anxiety about his safety.
Heist Status: Three months until event. Planning ongoing.
I closed the file. Stared at the ceiling. Two months into my rookie year. Jackson was alive. Andersen was alive. Armstrong was being watched. My powers were developing faster than I could control them.
Tim Bradford believed in me enough to request me as his permanent boot. That had to mean something.
Outside, the city hummed with early morning traffic. Somewhere, crimes were happening. People needed help. And I'd be there, powers and all, trying to make a difference.
One day at a time.
One save at a time.
That was all I could do.
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