Chapter 8: Building Connection - Part 1
The Sterling Room's jazz quartet was playing something smooth when I entered at eight PM.
Soft piano, lazy trumpet, bass that rumbled through the floorboards. The bar was busier than last week—couples at booths, businessmen at tables, the low murmur of expensive conversation filling the space.
Lorelei spotted me immediately.
She was serving a table near the back, but her eyes found mine across the room. The professional mask slipped for half a second—genuine smile, unguarded, quickly replaced by practiced charm. But that half-second was enough.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI MARTINS** ]
[ **RELAXATION INCREASE: 23% WHEN APPROACHING YOUR LOCATION** ]
[ **GUARD STATUS: LOWERED (COMPARED TO OTHER CUSTOMERS)** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL BARRIERS: STILL PRESENT BUT WEAKENING** ]
[ **ENERGY: 49/100** ]
"She's more comfortable with me than with others. Progress."
I claimed my spot at the bar. Tony nodded in recognition, already pouring Macallan before I asked.
"The celebrator returns," he said, sliding the glass across. "Good week?"
"Complicated week."
"That's law enforcement for you." He moved to help another customer, leaving me alone with my drink.
Lorelei finished with her table and drifted over, tray balanced effortlessly. Her smile was warmer tonight, less performed.
"Back already? Must have been a very good first day."
"First week," I corrected. "The celebrating takes time."
She laughed—soft, genuine, the sound cutting through the jazz. "I like that. Dedication to proper celebration."
The conversation flowed easier than it had any right to. She asked about my week, and I kept it vague—cases, paperwork, learning the new office dynamics. Nothing specific, nothing that would reveal System mechanics or transmigration insanity.
She talked about the bar, about Sacramento, about the way wealthy customers tipped better but treated servers worse. Small observations, carefully neutral, revealing nothing personal.
The System tracked every micro-expression, every hesitation.
[ **SUBJECT MAINTAINS EMOTIONAL BARRIERS WITH ALL CUSTOMERS** ]
[ **EXCEPTION: YOUR INTERACTIONS SHOW INCREASED AUTHENTICITY** ]
[ **TRUST LEVEL: 24% (INCREASED FROM 12%)** ]
[ **ENERGY: 47/100** ]
Around nine, the bar thinned slightly. Lorelei's break came, and she claimed the stool beside mine without asking. Tony poured her water without prompting—routine they'd established.
"So," she said, studying her glass. "Investigative work. That's intentionally vague."
"CBI. Serious crimes unit."
Her posture shifted—almost imperceptible, but the System caught it.
[ **MICROEXPRESSION: TENSION + INTEREST** ]
[ **RESPONSE TO 'SERIOUS CRIMES': COMPLEX EMOTIONAL REACTION** ]
"Like murders?" she asked quietly.
"Sometimes."
She nodded slowly, fingers tracing condensation on her glass. The silence stretched, comfortable but weighted. I waited, knowing pushing would only close her back up.
"I moved to Sacramento five years ago," she said finally. "Needed to get away from my hometown."
[ **SUBJECT INITIATING PERSONAL DISCLOSURE** ]
[ **TRUST INCREASE DETECTED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 45/100** ]
"Bad memories?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
"You could say that." She took a sip of water. "My sister was murdered there. Case never solved."
The words hit like a physical blow even though I'd known they were coming. Miranda. Red John's victim. The trauma that would eventually—in canon—lead Lorelei into his orbit.
The System activated new functions without warning.
[ **NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: LIE PROBABILITY GAUGE** ]
[ **TRIGGERED BY: ANALYZING EMOTIONAL HONESTY IN CRITICAL CONVERSATION** ]
[ **ACCURACY: 75% ±10%** ]
[ **CURRENT READING: LORELEI'S STATEMENT = 98% TRUTHFUL** ]
[ **ENERGY: 43/100** ]
"Miranda's murder was Red John. And Lorelei doesn't know it yet. Nobody does."
I kept my expression carefully sympathetic, not pitying. "I'm sorry. That kind of loss... it doesn't fade."
"No." She met my eyes, and the guard was down completely now. Raw grief visible for the first time. "It doesn't. Local police tried, but they had nothing. No witnesses, no forensics, no motive. Just my sister, dead, and a case that went nowhere."
[ **LIE PROBABILITY: 3% - COMPLETE HONESTY** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL STATE: VULNERABLE** ]
[ **GUARD FULLY LOWERED: TEMPORARY** ]
[ **ENERGY: 41/100** ]
The opportunity sat in front of me like an open door. I could offer to investigate. Could promise to look into Miranda's case with CBI resources. Could position myself as the knight trying to solve her sister's murder.
But pushing too hard would scare her off. The timing wasn't right yet.
"The not knowing," I said instead. "That's the worst part, isn't it?"
She nodded, blinking rapidly. "Every day I wonder who did it. Why. If they're still out there, living normally, while Miranda's just... gone."
The pain in her voice was real, raw, the kind that never healed properly. And Red John would exploit exactly this. Would offer her purpose, revenge, a way to make the pain mean something.
"Not if I get there first."
"The investigators," I said carefully. "Did they ever find any leads?"
"Nothing solid. There were... similarities to other cases, they said. But nothing concrete enough to connect them." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. This isn't exactly light conversation."
"Don't apologize."
She looked at me for a long moment, evaluating. The System tracked her analysis of me—trying to gauge sincerity, searching for ulterior motives, wondering if trust was safe.
[ **SUBJECT ANALYZING YOUR INTENTIONS** ]
[ **EMOTIONAL AUTHENTICITY: PASSED HER EVALUATION** ]
[ **TRUST LEVEL: 29%** ]
[ **ENERGY: 39/100** ]
"You're different from most cops I've met," she said finally.
"I get that a lot."
A small smile. "I mean it as a compliment."
"Then I'll take it as one."
Her break ended too soon. She stood, the professional mask sliding back into place like armor. But it was thinner now, more transparent.
"I should get back to work."
I pulled out my wallet, left another generous tip for Tony. Then, knowing this was the moment, I grabbed a napkin and wrote my number.
"There's a good Italian place downtown. Marcello's." I slid the napkin toward her. "If you ever want conversation that isn't work-related."
She picked up the napkin slowly, studying the numbers like they might disappear.
[ **ANALYZING: LORELEI RESPONSE** ]
[ **INTEREST LEVEL: HIGH** ]
[ **FEAR OF VULNERABILITY: MODERATE** ]
[ **DECISION PENDING** ]
[ **ENERGY: 37/100** ]
"Maybe," she said, but her smile was warmer now. Genuine. "I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking."
I left before the conversation could turn awkward, before the System could drain more energy analyzing every micro-expression. The night air was cold against my face, clearing the whiskey fog and jazz haze.
The drive home felt different tonight.
Lorelei Martins had trusted me enough to share Miranda's murder. That trust was fragile, built on two conversations and generous tips, but it was real. The Lie Probability Gauge had confirmed her honesty—she wasn't playing games, wasn't manipulating me. Just a woman carrying grief and trying to survive.
In the original timeline, Red John would find her eventually. Would offer answers about Miranda's murder, twist her pain into loyalty, make her complicit in his games. She'd die helping Patrick Jane, her redemption cut short.
But I was here now. Months early. With resources, a badge, and a System that could track lies and emotional states.
"I can change this. I can save her."
The question was whether saving her would break the timeline further. Whether preventing her recruitment by Red John would have cascading effects I couldn't predict.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: It's Lorelei. Wednesday and Friday shifts, if you're still interested in celebrating regularly.
I smiled despite the exhaustion, despite the energy drain pulling at my consciousness.
Definitely interested. Wednesday works.
Her response came quickly: See you then.
The System provided final commentary as I parked at my apartment.
[ **RELATIONSHIP PROGRESS: LORELEI MARTINS** ]
[ **TRUST LEVEL: 29% (SIGNIFICANT INCREASE)** ]
[ **SISTER'S MURDER = CRITICAL TRAUMA DRIVER** ]
[ **RED JOHN CONNECTION: PROBABLE BUT UNCONFIRMED** ]
[ **RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED WITH INVESTIGATION CAREFULLY** ]
[ **ENERGY: 35/100** ]
[ **WARNING: LOW ENERGY - REST REQUIRED** ]
Sleep claimed me the moment my head hit the pillow, but my last thought was clear.
Miranda's case. I needed to access those files, find the connections local police had missed, and prove to Lorelei that her sister's murder could be solved.
Before Red John had the chance to offer false hope instead.
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