“What’s with this floor? And why would a slimy PI like Brooklyn Payne back off from this place?” When they left Apartment 404 and headed towards the direction of the backdoor, Mick asked Marcus: “It’s - it’s not gonna be just the number four, right?”

“Beats me as well. I know that Brooklyn Payn was superstitious, but he’s also quite a dedicated stalker when he really sets his mind on it.” Marcus scratched his jaw as he gradually lowered the concentration of Qi around the exterior of his body, and at the same time, he tried to suppress the aggressiveness of his Qi like he practiced a few times before after that long meditation at Master Liaoran’s.

The air grew colder, and the surroundings became slightly but still noticeably dimmer when Marcus went into this state. He looked around trying to see what difference this would make, but all he saw was Tanya, the girl with long straight black hair, running towards him and Mick, without a kitchen knife in her hand.

“Detectives, wait!” Tanya called out to them just when they reached the door to the safety exit: “I have something to tell you.”

“Great!” Mick smiled and took a look at Marcus: “We can spare a quick minute, right detective?”

Marcus shrugged. If he had to voice his opinion, he would still urge them to go into police protective custody. He understood why they would not feel safe, but all things considered, it still seemed like a safer choice under the circumstances.

“We DID see Lydia going away with the guy - Carl Benson.” Tanya spoke with a sense of rush, and her facial expression told both Mick and Marcus that she was not as calm and collected as before while she was in her apartment: “He spent a lot of money, bought a lot of booze, talked shit to almost everyone, just being loud and obnoxious about his new car with his friends. Then he got Lydia drunk and left with her. We tried to stop it, but there are too many of them, and even our manager did not want to piss him off - ”

“Good.” Marcus nodded, it was always nice that a theory could be corroborated from multiple angles, though he was still worried if there was no physical proof of some kind: “Would you be willing to testify this? And do you happen to know if there was security footage of what happened?”

“I don’t know if there’s footage. As far as I know, even the managers don’t have access to it.” Tanya shook her head: “But yes, when you can put the Bensons on trial, or when you’re ready to show the world the truth, I promise you now I will be there to testify.”

“Thank you.” Marcus nodded.

“Leave now, before it gets late.” Tanya looked at the sky: “You’d think it’s still early, but it’s already kinda late here. And you don’t wanna be wandering on this floor when it’s late. There’s a reason this floor is mostly unoccupied.”

“Which is?” Mick couldn’t help but ask.

“I know that you cops don’t usually talk about this, or you may not even know this, because you work for the city, and people who work for the city, especially cops have a certain kind of - aura.” Tanya shook her head: “But there’s something lurking here, on this very floor. And it could mean great trouble if you’re not careful. Those who could have already fled.”

“But, why don’t you leave?” Mick scratched his head.

“We can’t.” Tanya stared at Mick as if he just uttered the most foolish thing, and she instantly lost all desire to say anything more: “Go now. Don’t come back here unless you’ve found something or ready to bring down the fucking Bensons.” Then she just turned around and ran back to apartment 404.

“What - what’d I say?” Mick looked at Marcus.

“Let’s go first.” Marcus sighed: “And keep it low profile.”

Both of them made it back to their car after going out the building through the back door and circling around the neighborhood. Both of them were reasonably certain that they did not catch the attention of any unsavory folks. Because neither saw anyone keeping eyes on them. After settling down, Mick finally mustered up the courage to ask Marcus: ““What did she mean by a certain aura?” ”

“Beats me. Perhaps she’s had bad experiences dealing with cops. Who hasn’t at some point in their lives.” Marcus shrugged.

“No, no.” Mick shook his head: “She was referring to something specific. And what do you think she meant by ‘something lurking’ on that floor?”

“The red threads and talismans in their apartment should tell you enough.” Marcus shook his head.

“Spirits? Or ‘the unclean’?” Mick shrugged: “I - I don’t know. I mean. I guess it’s pretty textbook that people in danger and in these - these challenging and distress-inducing environment, believing in the supernatural could be a way to cope with hardships - ”

“What is the most gruesome case you’ve dealt with?” Marcus thought for a short moment and asked: “Not including Carl Benson, before you came to the 17th Precinct.”

“Well…” Mick appeared to be slightly embarrassed, and finally gave an answer after about one minute of silence: “... yeah, I’ve encountered a case, where a mother kinda went crazy and drugged then burned her entire family. Including her husband and three children.”

“Hmm, okay, I remember that case, about three years ago right” Marcus nodded: “How’d she end up?”

“Insanity plea, probably out in a few years.” Mick sighed.

“Yeah.” Marcus nodded and went silent, then just after he made a turn at a local crossroads, he told Mick: “During my first year as detective, Detective Pahaik and I were handed a case that eventually became a Blue Envelope. It was on the edge of South-Western District as well, close to the rails. Three men missing for over a month and nowhere to be found. Finally pieces of them were discovered, wrapped in plastic bags shoved in the water towers. There were almost no suspects for the case. The only suspects, if you ignore the fact that they were dead, were the victims themselves - all three of them had a well known grudge against each other. They had no other enemies aside from those who died with them.”

Mick shivered. Then he sighed and did not say a word even after Marcus had parked the car at another bar in the general area - the second place they came to check out, one of the many places Carl Benson went to before the accident.

Basically the same story, just repeated at different places: Carl Benson went to a bar or a nightclub, flaunted his car and his money and tried to get lucky, but he had no luck nor patience. So he left, angry, rowdy and more drunk. It appeared that the Emerald Starlight was the final spot precisely because he was able to “score”. And it was because of this unfortunate turn of events that led to the accident.

Not all of these places were as uncooperative as the Emerald Starlight, three of the nightclubs actually showed Marcus and Mick their security footage. But it was for a good reason, the footage showed basically nothing, just that Carl Benson remained at the bar for a bit, tried to hit on a few girls and got turned down, then eventually left. Mick became a bit quieter this time, and Marcus was thinking maybe his question about his most brutal case was indeed too harsh.

By the time they finished their visits and interviews, the time was already late. When they got back to the precinct, most of the officers on day shift were already gone. Aside from Kevin, who was lying on a table, reading a piece of report with a picture on it.

“Hi Kevin, what’s happening?” Marcus threw his jacket onto the back of his chair.

“Weird shit.” Kevin sat up, his eyes slightly bloodshot and there were visible bags under his eyes: “I don’t think normal Blue Envelopes are gonna cut it. I’m entertaining that the emergency reparations team and Carl Benson are connected - somehow. I just need to figure out why.”

“Why don’t you tell me your theory?” Marcus smiled and went into the kitchen to grab a coffee mug and some snacks, then tossed Mick a nut bar.

“Thank you, but I’m allergic.” Mick scratched his head, then put the bar back and picked out a piece of dark chocolate after checking its ingredients: “Why are you still here, Kevin?”

“Evidence doesn’t sleep.” Kevin took a bag of gummy worms and bears from Marcus: “Shrevas and Keryn were busting their butts off, yet there’s still no meaningful leads. I just want to help. How’s your case with Carl Benson?”

“Not good.” Mick sighed: “The guy hit a few bars trying to pick up girls, then finally landed with the poor girl. And was very likely driving while drunk.”

“Carl Benson’s parents hired Brooklyn Payne.” Marcus shrugged: “And that slimebag’s watching the two young women’s place with his goons. The girls used to work with the victim and may know quite a few things. I am going to ask Captain Ko for some help on this.”

“Did they even want our help?” Kevin chewed on his gummy worm while his eyes were fixated on the report.

“Unfortunately, no.”