Chapter 26: The Detective's Interest
Monday, October 29, 2018 - Mid-Wilshire Station, Break Room, 10:17 AM
Detective Sarah Murphy's POV
Officer Mercer sat alone, reviewing case files. Twelve weeks on the job and he'd already broken three cold cases through pattern recognition.
The kid was good. Unnaturally good.
"Officer Mercer. Got a minute?"
He looked up, closed his file. "Detective Murphy. What can I do for you?"
Polite. Attentive. But guarded. Everyone at Mid-Wilshire knew he had secrets.
"I'll be direct. You've broken three cases in twelve weeks through pattern recognition and memory. The jewelry robbery. The serial theft ring. Last week's embezzlement. That's detective-level work."
"I've had good TOs. They taught me—"
"Don't deflect." I sat across from him. "You're still a boot. I get that. But I'm saying this now: when you hit your two-year mark, come talk to me about detective track. You have the instincts."
His expression shifted. Surprise, maybe. Or calculation.
"I hadn't thought that far ahead. Just trying to survive rookie year."
"Think about it. You're wasted on patrol long-term. Those instincts need investigation work."
"I'll consider it. Thank you."
Professional. Careful. But I'd planted the seed.
Ethan's POV - Tim's Shop, Later That Day
"Murphy offered me detective track," I told Tim during a lull.
His jaw tightened. Barely noticeable. "When?"
"Two years. She said to talk to her then."
"What'd you tell her?"
"That I'd consider it."
Tim drove in silence for three blocks. Then: "She's right. You'd make a good detective. Pattern recognition, memory, reading people—that's investigation work."
"But?"
"But don't rush it." He glanced at me. "Being a good street cop makes you a better detective. Too many rookies skip the foundation work. They make detective fast, then realize they have blind spots. Can't handle patrol backup. Don't understand ground-level work."
He wants me to stay. In patrol. With him.
"How long did you do patrol before detective track?" I asked.
"Seven years. Then I realized I hated desk work. Came back to patrol, made sergeant." He paused. "Finish your rookie year. Work patrol for a year or two. Then decide. Murphy will still be there."
"And if she's not?"
"Then another detective will be. Your skills aren't going anywhere."
The subtext was clear. Tim valued our partnership. Didn't want to lose his boot to investigations.
"I'm not going anywhere yet," I said.
"Good."
Tuesday, October 30, 2018 - Interview Room B, 2:43 PM
The fraud case had three witnesses. All gave conflicting statements.
Witness One: Claimed the suspect embezzled funds alone.
Witness Two: Claimed it was a team effort, five people involved.
Witness Three: Claimed they didn't know anything about it.
I sat across from Witness One. Middle-aged man, nervous energy, fingers drumming on the table.
"Tell me again about how you discovered the embezzlement."
"I was reviewing quarterly reports. Numbers didn't match. I investigated."
My lie detection fired. Sharp discomfort in my chest.
Lying. He didn't discover it. He knows more than he's saying.
"And you reported it immediately?"
"Of course."
Another lie.
My recall organized his testimony: stated he found discrepancies on March 15th, reported March 16th. But his employment records showed he took three days leave March 16-18th. Contradiction.
My danger sense pulsed. Low-level. Something wrong about this entire situation.
He's not just a witness. He's involved.
Witness Two - 3:15 PM
Woman in her thirties, overly helpful, too much detail.
"There were five of us. We planned it over six months. Moved money through shell accounts—"
My lie detection stayed quiet. She believed what she was saying.
But my danger sense pulsed again. Wrong. Something's wrong.
My recall pulled up her statement: named five people, including herself. But claimed she was coerced, forced to participate.
She's telling the truth as she understands it. But she's been manipulated. Given false information.
Witness Three - 3:47 PM
Younger man, early twenties, terrified.
"I don't know anything. I just worked data entry."
My lie detection: quiet.
My danger sense: quiet.
My recall: His employment file showed he'd reported suspicious activity two weeks before the investigation started. Anonymous tip. Never followed up.
This one's honest. He's the actual whistleblower.
All three powers running simultaneously. My head ached, but the meditation practice held. No nausea. No collapse. Just... pressure.
I can manage this now. Multiple powers without overload. That's progress.
Sergeant Grey's POV - Observation Room
Detective Murphy and I watched Mercer work through the glass.
"He just identified the actual whistleblower," Murphy said. "Witness Three. The kid everyone dismissed."
"How?"
"Same way he always does. Instinct."
Mercer stood, left the interview room, walked straight to our observation post.
"Witness One is involved in the embezzlement. He's lying about discovering it. Witness Two has been fed false information—she believes it, but it's not accurate. Witness Three is the real whistleblower. Anonymous tip two weeks ago."
Murphy pulled up the anonymous tip file. "How did you—"
"I remembered it from case files last month. Same language patterns as Witness Three's written statement."
"That's..." Murphy looked at me. "That's detective work."
"That's Mercer," I said.
Ethan's POV - End of Shift, Locker Room
Grey found me alone.
"Murphy's campaign for you is flattering," he said without preamble. "But Bradford's right. Don't skip steps. You're twelve weeks in. You've got a long way to go before you should be thinking detective."
"I know, sir."
"Focus on the present. Master patrol work. Learn from Bradford—he's the best TO in this division. When you're ready for detective track, it'll still be there."
"Understood."
He studied me. "You've got a future here, Mercer. Beyond just being a rookie. Beyond just proving yourself to your family. This could be a real career. Don't rush it."
A real career. A real life. Not just surviving and preventing TV show deaths.
"I won't rush it, sir."
"Good." He turned to leave, paused. "And Mercer? That doctor who came to the heist party. She's good for you. Don't screw that up either."
Does everyone know about Emma?
"I'll try not to, sir."
After he left, I sat alone in the locker room.
Detective track. Two years away. Emma. Second date planned. Jackson saved twice. Andersen still alive. Armstrong documented but not yet moved.
This life is becoming real. Not just a mission. An actual future.
My phone buzzed. Emma: How was your day?
Solved a fraud case. Detective offered me a job in two years.
Impressive. Second date to celebrate?
Definitely.
I pocketed my phone, grabbed my bag, headed home.
Twelve weeks ago, I was terrified. Alone. Trying to prevent deaths while hiding powers.
Now I had family. Purpose. Emma. A future beyond just survival.
Fake it until it fits.
It was starting to fit.
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