When Laith got back to the Heliopolis Police headquarters, it was almost lunchtime, and he could see a few early birds already out of their offices and heading to the cafeteria before the bigger crowd came. He spotted Detective Ulv Lebben of the Corporate Crimes Division in the lobby speaking to an officer Laith did not recognize. His gaze met Laith’s, and Ulv waved to him from across the large space, said a few more words to the young officer with him before patting him on the shoulder, and jogged over to where Laith was standing, weaving around the old tree in the middle. “It’s been a while,” Lebben said with an easy smile. “How have you been? What’s the news?”

“I’d say it’s the same old, but I actually have a case I’m working, believe it or not,” Laith said.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Ulv replied. “Apparently, Lin’s livid the case went to you and not to her.”

Lin – the nickname everyone called his fellow Homicide Detective Lingasa Flax – had been as completely un-busy as Laith had been, and he couldn’t blame her for wishing she had gotten her hands on the case. He’d felt the same restlessness before – before he’d actually gotten the case. Now, he continued on out of a sense of duty and justice, but yearned for the peaceful quiet of his days before Cassia Grove had been found murdered in her home.

“I have closed more cold cases than her,” Laith pointed out. He didn’t know if that had had anything to do with Captain Fox’s decision to hand the case over to him, but he did have a sneaking suspicion that it might have played at least a small role. He’d also done pretty well in the semi-annual evaluations, but he imagined Lin would have had to do well, too, to keep her job.

“Oh, we told her the same thing,” Ulv said, patting Laith on the back as they began walking in the direction of the cafeteria. Ulv had always had a bit of a limp, and it was always more obvious when he was walking as opposed to when he was running or jogging. One day, Laith had asked him about it, and Ulv had pulled up his pant leg to reveal a prosthetic. “But she claims that you chose all of the easy cases and she could’ve solved them, too. Just never got the chance, apparently.”

Laith frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. We were all working on the same sets of cases,” he said, shaking his head. He’d just happened to solve some of them first. There was no need for Lin to make comments such as those – it was unprofessional at best, and painfully envious at worst – but Laith couldn’t bring himself to take much stock of her words. She must have been extremely frustrated. “Besides, this one’s really taking it out on me. I’m confused more than I actually have answers, and that’s saying something.”

“I figured as much,” Ulv said. “After all, most cases are solved by PATET in under twenty-four hours. Even at my division, it’s become a running joke that PATET’s the detective, and we’re just the grunts that do the leg work,” he added, chuckling. “Anyway, what can you do, right? It is what it is, and that’s a good thing, in the end.”

Unless PATET makes mistakes and provides the wrong solutions, Laith thought grimly. The more he learned about it, the more he thought that PATET wasn’t as air-tight as the people had been led to believe it was.

“You’ve got a case, too, don’t you?” Laith ventured. “The Greenland Farm case. I specifically requested you for it.”

“Yeah,” Ulv said, reaching one of the picnic tables in the open air cafeteria and awkwardly climbing over the bench to take a seat. “Thank you for that one, by the way. Somehow, PATET hasn’t figured it out yet, so I actually get to, you know, do my job. Crazy stuff.”

“Find anything so far?” Laith inquired curiously, taking a seat across from him and leaning forward. A large rosemary bush grew on the ground beside them, and Laith noticed a wasp buzzing around it, searching for something. “I was hoping we’d share notes. I think it’s related to my case, too.”

Ulv’s ears might as well have perked up in attention. “Oh?” he asked. “How so?”

“Aster Lockwood’s missing,” Laith said, snapping off a bit of rosemary and rubbing it between his hands. The scent wafted up to meet him. “I found his Slate out in the Ruins. But his Slate was also used to unlock the door and leave the home he shared with his wife right after she was killed.”

“And how does that connect to whatever financial crime Greenland Farm might be committing?”

“The contents of his Slate show that he was apparently investigating the matter himself. You’ve seen them, haven’t you?” Ulv nodded, and Laith continued. “So, if Aster Lockwood was investigating what might actually be one of the biggest financial crimes of the decade, and suddenly goes missing without a trace right after his wife’s murder…”

“You think someone got to him to keep him quiet,” Ulv guessed, stroking his clean-shaven chin. “But what does that have to do with his wife?”

Laith shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “His disappearance is linked to her murder, I’m sure of it. It’s too coincidental otherwise. But I have too many leads going nowhere. It could have been a case of blackmail gone bad, or maybe Lockwood got into an argument with his wife and killed her, or maybe he got involved with something in the Ruins and it followed him home, or maybe – maybe someone who figured out he was onto them at Greenland Farm decided to get rid of him and ended up killing his wife, either by accident or because she ended up witnessing or hearing something she shouldn’t have.” He threw his hands into the air with an exasperated sigh. “The truth is, your guess is as good as mine at this point in time. I feel like I’ve opened up a can of worms with this case. I just want to be as thorough as possible.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with this one,” Ulv said. “But I see your reasoning. It’s possible the two cases might be connected. Unfortunately, though, we don’t have anything solid yet.”

“You didn’t find anything at all?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say that,” Ulv admitted with a small, confident smile. “I did some digging into that company – the Farm Hands Machines place – and found out that they had ties to both Greenland Farm and Emerald Farm. Those two are the only farms they work with, which struck me as a bit odd, for a variety of reasons. First, it didn’t make sense that two giants like Greenland Farm and Emerald Farm would do business with a tiny garage like Farm Hands. They don’t even have particularly high quality equipment, either, and a look into their location showed me that their warehouse and factory were pretty small, too. Not exactly something that inspires confidence that the company would rise to the demands of these two Farms.”

“Maybe it was a cheap solution they used for specific areas of their farms,” Laith suggested. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time companies had cut corners to ensure their profits, though he sincerely doubted farms like Greenland Farm and Emerald Farm needed to cut corners anywhere.

“I thought about that, too,” Ulv said. “But that doesn’t make sense, either. That’s my second point, by the way. The numbers don’t add up. According to Lockwood’s assistant Pom, fifteen percent of their revenues were going to Farm Hands Machines. That’s a heck of a lot of money, Laith, and for what? Some average quality tech they could get at garages that could do a better job meeting their demands for a much lower price? It’s completely out of proportion.”

“Nepotism?” Laith asked. It was possible that someone who knew the owner of Farm Hands Machines was giving them business just because they could.

“Would be a huge oversight if it was,” Ulv replied, then shook his head, rapping his knuckles against the wooden surface of the table. “No, I think something’s definitely up with this whole situation. I spoke to Toma Pom yesterday, and he told me Aster Lockwood was a control-freak and a stickler for company policy and security. Ran a tight ship. Not the kind of guy who’d overlook something as blatantly harmful to his business as that. And, if what I’ve heard about Fraser Zamarad is true, he wouldn’t let his Emerald Farm get suckered by this kind of ploy, either. So, I did a little more digging. I have a contact over at Novus Atlantis, so I was able to get some speedy results.”

Ulv leaned in, as if the information was particularly sensitive, and Laith listened intently. “Apparently, Farm Hands Machines is owned by a subsidiary of Emerald Farm.”

☀️ ☀️ ☀️

Laith stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the haggard look on his face. He hadn’t been sleeping very well ever since he’d started looking into this case. It wasn’t so much that it was haunting him – what he’d seen that day at the crime scene was terribly tragic and horrible, but he’d seen photographs of various crime scenes that were a great deal gorier and harder to look at while he’d worked the cold cases from the pre-Heliopolic era. What was keeping him up at night was his mind, always buzzing with theories and questions, always telling him that he shouldn’t be sleeping, shouldn’t be resting, because every moment that he wasn’t working was a moment where the killer was roaming the city, completely free to do as they wished.

He washed his hands mechanically, staring into his bloodshot green eyes. He supposed it was normal to feel this way. They’d been warned about such feelings in their training, and his handbook – which he still had, tucked away somewhere in one of the bookshelves in his apartment – had an entire chapter dedicated to mental wellness for detectives and officers dealing with cases of a particularly sensitive or difficult nature. He imagined some of his other colleagues, which dealt with assault, harassment, and violent cases, often referred to that. There were also a small group of counselors for employees of the Heliopolis Police Department to speak with if they were facing difficulties. Laith had never had reason to consider speaking to them.

Breaking eye contact with himself, he cupped water in his hands and washed his face a few times, trying to give himself a little fresh jump. The day was still long, and he had quite a lot to do. In about four hours, after the work day was over, he’d be meeting with Audra at a restaurant in the Forest, and only afterwards would he be able to head home and relax. Maybe sleep. He was looking forward to it.

A notification alert rang through the bathroom, and he wiped his hands on the paper towels and pulled out his Slate. It was a follow-up from the Novus Atlantis authorities regarding the man in the photograph that he had found in Cassia Grove’s office the day before last. As he read its contents, Laith felt a shiver run down his spine. He rushed out of the bathroom and into his office, taking a seat as he dove into the information they had sent. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The man in the photograph had been identified, but Laith couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

According to their records, the man’s name was Aster Lockwood.