Wow, dicey first chapter huh? Only gets dicier…more dicey…don't know. Chapter 2 start!

Chapter 2

Edward Elric was not having a good day.

It was bad enough that it had started off with jabbing pains in his shoulder from his automail installation seven months ago. Then he had to deal with Winry, who he loved for all time but was driving him crazy lately. Even worse, Al and Mei were still home for breakfast before Al headed off to his new job at East University. They were still in wedding gush mode and Ed had found it hard enough to deal with one emotional female…not three. Then there was that bastard Mustang's offer. Well, it was safe to say that Ed was among the least happy people at the Eastern Police Department.

At least he was happier than Giolo Comanche, whose body was a few feet away from him. Of course, Knox the coroner had to say the one thing that could make his day worse.

"Poison," he announced to the room. Ed ground his teeth together and knelt down to put the now empty coffee cup in an evidence bag.

"So, he was murdered?" Mustang asked, and he looked just as pissed as the forensics specialist felt. "Damn it! I shouldn't have gone to get him that water."

"There was nothing you could have done," Knox consoled him. "He was dead before he entered this interrogation room. He just didn't know it."

"What do you mean?" the chief demanded, running a hand agitatedly through his hair.

"It wasn't some super fast acting poison because there's none of the signs," he explained. "The real kicker is this, though: rigor mortis." Ed's eyes widened as he watched the medical examiner attempt to move one of Comanche's fingers but received nothing but resistance.

"What kind of poison did they use, then?"

"Can't say for sure, but judging by the rigor mortis and the position of the body, not to mention the asphyxiation…I'd hazard a good guess at the poison being strychnine."

"Strychnine?" Ed asked in surprise. All eyes in the room turned to him momentarily. "That kind of stuff is used in novels, not real life. I mean, as far as I remember, it's only been used in one case over the last decade."

"Well, they must have wanted it to work quickly but without arousing too much suspicion on them. That's why they chose strychnine."

"How long does it take to kill them?" Mustang asked fiercely. Knox adjusted his glasses before answering.

"Considering that it was probably in his coffee, I'd say fifteen, twenty minutes tops." Ed snapped a look to Mustang, along with all the other detectives in the room.

"That means he was poisoned here," Mustang pointed out, though it seemed to be more for his own benefit. "The killer's in this building. Havoc, Breda, get this place on lockdown now! Not a single person enters or exits this building without my authority!"

"Sir!" came the affirmation. The two detectives quickly left the room. Mustang, his eyes sharp and his lips pursed, turned to the remaining three people in the room.

"Knox, are you absolutely certain about the cause of death?" he asked. Ed's eyes flitted between the chief and the coroner. He hadn't seen Mustang so agitated in awhile. Then again, a murder in the police station itself wasn't exactly the best of situations.

"As sure as I can be without doing a full autopsy," the man answered.

"Then I need you to do one as soon as possible."

"These things take time, Mustang!" argued Knox, getting into the chief's face. Mustang didn't flinch and managed to maintain his air of cold impassiveness. Knox continued to glare at him in their standoff until he finally sighed and pulled away. "Fine, but I need someone to help me move the body."

"I'll have Armstrong help you," Mustang said, turning away himself. "Hawkeye, get Armstrong down here, and while you're at it, grab Feury and round up everyone in the station. We have some suspects to question."

"Anyone in particular?" Hawkeye asked as she made her way out of the room. Mustang was following her and Ed went with them, the deadly coffee cup still clasped in his hand.

"The visitors. They were the ones closest to Comanche before I met up with him. We'll question them first." Hawkeye nodded and picked up her pace, quickly leaving the two males' presence. When she was gone, Mustang turned to Ed. "Run down to the lab and test that thing for strychnine."

"I'm guessing you need it right away," Ed stated.

"What do you think, Fullmetal?" Ed gave a small chuckle to relieve the tension of the situation. "I want all my facts on the table before I start making any stupid accusations. So run those tests and bring me the results as soon as possible."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed waved off. He then turned away and left the chief. As he strolled through the station to the forensics lab, he could see it had been thrown into a frenzy. Officers were being corralled, some of them with looks of rage. He could see Feury attempting to direct them all, but the young detective wasn't having much luck. Armstrong was also striding towards Ed, giving the forensics specialist a small nod as he continued to barrel down to the interrogation room. Ed also caught sight of Hawkeye speaking to the visitors before the bulk of the station was gone from view.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Darius suddenly asked the second that Ed entered the lab.

"Detective Hawkeye came to visit and told us to stay put," Heinkel explained. "Not like we were going anywhere with all this work to do."

"Someone got murdered," Ed explained brusquely. Both of his co-workers' eyebrows shot straight up.

"Was it like a shooting or something?" Darius asked. Ed rolled his eyes at the question.

"Yes, someone was shot. That's why I came in carrying a coffee cup," Ed told them sarcastically. Judging by their frowns, the men weren't too happy with his response. "Some retired detective was poisoned, so I'm running the cup for traces of strychnine. Marcoh sure picked a fine week to take a vacation!"

The men's grunts indicated that they felt the same way. Ed finally reached the lab station and immediately prepared a solution to test for the fabled poison. While he waited for results, he brushed the lid of the coffee cup for prints. The murderer had to have lifted the lid in order to put the strychnine in, but as he dusted it, there appeared to be nothing more than Comanche's drool on it.

When he turned back he could see the results of his solution and instantly scowled. Knox had been right: Comanche had most definitely been killed by strychnine. But why and when exactly were questions that it was up to Mustang to answer. Ed quickly found an evidence form and filled it out, his scrawls becoming more illegible as they ran down the page. As soon as the last line was filled out, Ed whipped out of the lab, running as fast as he could to get to Mustang. The chief was right where he had left him.

"Definitely strychnine," Ed told him. Mustang quickly mirrored his scowl.

"All right." The chief ran a hand through his hair as he began to walk towards the other interrogation room. "You should sit in on the interrogations. I could use your mind." As much as Ed would have liked to refuse the older man, he couldn't deny his intrigue. So, he followed him into the room where what Ed presumed to be a visitor was sitting calmly, if entirely bewildered.

"What's this all about, detective? Am I being arrested?" he asked once he caught sight of Mustang.

"Just some questions," Mustang said as he seated himself. Ed hung back behind Mustang, choosing to simply survey the room. "Can I ask why you were here at the station?"
"Witness statement," the man replied. Ed observed him while he talked and felt no signs of deception. He seemed to be an ordinary man, if a little aloof. "I own a store across the street from Steiner's Jewelry so I saw them get robbed. I even called the police."

"Yes, I can see…" Mustang said, shifting through sheaves of paper. "It would appear your story checks out."

"I don't understand. What's going on?" Instead of answering, Mustang slapped a photo of Giolo Comanche onto the table.

"Do you recognize this man?"

"Uh…I think he was at the visitor's waiting area with me."

"He was just murdered." The man's eyes widened in surprise and slight disgust. "Did anyone approach him or accost him while you were waiting?"

"I-I don't know. Some big, burly man, I think. Other than that, I couldn't say." Ed quickly realized that the man must have been talking about Armstrong. Mustang didn't seem concerned, though.

"All right, you can go. Tell the detectives at the door that the chief let you leave." The man uttered a "thanks" before scrambling out of the chair and leaving the room. Mustang had barely a moment to sigh before Hawkeye was bringing in the next visitor. This time it was a woman with blonde hair and a pair of glasses. She was holding a thin book of crossword puzzles as she sat down. "What brought you to East PD today, Miss Clara?"

"An old friend," the woman answered. Mustang nodded but continued to stare at her as if awaiting further elaboration. "I came to see an old friend, not even sure if he remembers me. Unfortunately, I was told he no longer works here. Transfer orders from some time ago."

"I see. You were in the visiting area with this man, Giolo Comanche, correct?"

"Yes, I remember," she answered.

"Did you notice anyone suspicious around him or anything strange whatsoever?" Mustang asked. The woman, Clara, pursed her lips as if thinking about it but eventually shook her head.

"No, I can't say I did. Then again, I was too focused on my crossword to really notice anything. I think I remember seeing you and that one large detective, but I couldn't be sure."

"Anything could be helpful," Mustang said. Still, Clara couldn't formulate an observation.

"Sorry, but I really couldn't tell you anything else about the retired officer."

"That's okay," Mustang assured her. Ed continued to stare at the two of them as the chief dismissed the woman. "This is starting to go nowhere."

"You've only spoken to two people!" Ed protested.

"Yeah, and they were about as helpful as a roc-" Mustang suddenly cut himself off and sat up straight in his chair. Ed gave him a confused glance as Mustang began tapping against the table in an agitated rhythm.

"What is it now?" he asked in annoyance.

"'Officer'…not detective," Mustang mumbled out. Now, Ed was beginning to feel lost. "She called him a retired officer."

"So what? I'm sure it's a common mistake."

"Except for the fact that she only overheard him called 'Detective'," Mustang pointed out and Ed began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Why would she call him officer unless…"

"She knew him as one!" realized Ed. "She knew Comanche."

"Which means her old friend was Comanche and she's his killer!" Mustang wasted no time in practically throwing his chair to the floor as the two men sped from the interrogation room, Hawkeye stared at them in surprise before following after them. There was no one in their way on account of being rounded up, allowing the trio to blaze a quick path to the exit.

"What's up, chief?" Havoc asked as they approached.

"The blonde-haired woman. Where is she?"

"We let her go already, like you ordered," Breda said. Mustang pushed them aside and exited the station. Ed followed him, but a quick glance at the station lot told them both that the woman was long gone.

"Damn it!" Mustang screamed. "Get on the security cameras and find me a picture of her then send out an APB."

"Got it, boss!" Havoc announced as he and Breda once more went inside. Mustang once more ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"So what now?" Ed asked tentatively, knowing that anything might set the older man off.

"Nothing. We'll get an APB out and then all we can do is wait," the chief growled. "It's not my favorite course of action, but at least we know who the killer is."

"Sounds great," Ed said sardonically. "If we're done here, I'm going back to work. I've got enough of it backlogged." The refusal to respond all but told Ed that he was free to leave. He briefly rolled his eyes and trudged back up the steps. The atmosphere in the station was still tense but was beginning to return to its normal levels. Ed ignored all that as he made his way back to the lab and began his work once again, quickly getting lost in the sheer volume of it.

It was only as Heinkel and Darius were finally leaving for the day that Ed, too, decided he could finish his work tomorrow. Without even a fellow word of goodbye to the detectives on the force, Ed found himself in his car and back on the way to Resembool. His mind shut off as he drove, the stress of the day and its events becoming too much. He only breathed when his car finally pulled up to his house and he smelled dinner wafting towards him. Judging from the second car outside the house, it wasn't hard to guess who was really making dinner.

"Hello, Edward, it's good to see you again," called the kind voice of Gracia Hughes. Ed looked to her and noticed the flowery apron and oven mitts that indicated she was helping to make dinner. In truth, Ed was grateful for Mrs. Hughes' help during Winry's pregnancy. Roy had introduced them and since Winry and Elicia got along so well (like sisters, actually) it came as no surprise that the Hughes' family would come over for dinner every other week. During the last two months, Gracia had even begun to prepare dinner for the Elrics.

"Hey, Mrs. Hughes, how are you?" Ed asked, kicking his shoes off. Gracia caught sight of Ed's facial expression and chuckled.

"I know that look. Tough day at work?" she asked as two more people entered the hallway.

"Oh, you're finally here, Ed," Winry huffed. Ed frowned and glared at his wife who was currently being supported by his brother. Alphonse Elric gave him a small smile, but Ed's present mood prevented him from returning it.

"Sorry I have a nine-to-five job to keep, Winry," Ed snapped. Winry simply answered his retort with a withering glare. Ed finished dropping his things to the floor and made his way to the kitchen where the smell of roast chicken emanated.

"Dad called today," Al said as he and Winry (along with Gracia) followed the forensics specialist into the kitchen. "He wanted to know if you and Mustang are still joining him for lunch after the trial on Wednesday."

"Damn…I forgot about those stupid lunch plans," he complained as he fell into a chair. The oven then dinged and Winry slowly sat next to Ed.

"Is that why you seem more pissed off than usual?" she asked testily. Al seemed to observe his brother a moment before voicing his own thoughts.

"She's right. Your scowl's deeper than most days." Ed couldn't help but glare at Al a moment.

"I'm not surprised," Ed said. "There was a murder at the station today."

"Literally at the station? ! It wasn't detective Hawkeye, was it?" Winry asked in shock. Ed put a hand on her shoulder, as if to reassure her.

"Don't worry, it was no one you know. Some retired detective came in to talk with Mustang about something and he was poisoned by some woman. She did get away, though," Ed mused uncomfortably. Next to him, Winry put a hand on her stomach and let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay at least." Ed nodded as sounds came from the back of the house. Gracia also approached the table and placed several pieces of chicken on the table. Moments later, Mei Chang and Elicia Hughes appeared in the kitchen. The nine-year old girl began to instantly chat with Winry while Mei gave Al a peck on the cheek as she herself sat down to dinner. Ed didn't wait for anything else to start grabbing food.

"Roy's not stopping by, I'm guessing?" Gracia asked as she sat on Ed's other side.

"Doubtful. He might have if that murder hadn't happened," he commented.

"What's this world coming to?" she asked rhetorically with a shake of her head. "First it's corrupt commissioners, and now murders in a police station."

Ed couldn't find a suitable reply to that, so he hastily went for more food. Her question did merit thought, though. The whole world was going topsy-turvy with the Bradley case and Ed was still stuck in the middle of it all. A slight jab entered his right shoulder, reminding him of just how much his life had changed. Some part of him yearned to go back to simpler times, but as he looked at the exuberant pair that was Al and Mei, and Winry's glowing face, he knew he wouldn't want to trade this for the world. The country may have been going to hell in a hand basket, but he at least had some peace.

It was late evening by the time that the Hughes were finally leaving, which happened to be shortly after dinner had finished. Ed thanked Gracia while she calmly told Ed to take care of Winry. The Elrics then waved both Gracia and the sleeping Elicia goodbye as Ed helped his wife to the couch. The forensics specialist avoided the news like the plague that night, not wanting to see the newest APB plastered all over their screen. Instead they all settled on some family sitcom whose plot Ed could care less about. Eventually, it came time for them to all go to sleep. Al and Mei headed to their room (Mei's old guest room being converted to a nursery), while Ed and Winry prepared for bed themselves in the master bedroom.

Of course, it wasn't like Ed was actually planning to get any sleep, given that Winry had to get up and go to the bathroom every five minutes. Sure, he had some shuteye here and there, but he was interrupted more often than not. He supposed it was training him for when the baby was born, but for now it was driving him nuts. Then his phone rang.

"It's five-thirty in the morning. What do you want?" Ed groaned into his phone. The noise managed to wake Winry, who made it yet another opportunity to go to the bathroom.

"Edward," said the cool voice of Riza Hawkeye, "we need you at a crime scene."

"Can't Darius or Heinkel do it?"

"Roy asked specifically for you." Of course, Mustang was involved in this. Wherever Riza was, the new chief of East PD wasn't far away. With another groan, Ed swung himself out of bed, slid the phone between his shoulder and ear, and began to pull his socks on.

"Fine. What's going on?"

"I think it's best you see for yourself." She gave him no more room to ask questions as the line suddenly clicked off.

Ed finished getting dressed before he told Winry where he was going. He also made sure to grab a few slices of bread for the road. As he started driving, Ed found he had a text from Hawkeye that told him where to go. Grumbling about unreasonable hours, Ed shoved a piece of bread in his mouth as he drove to his destination.

He certainly didn't expect what he found there.

"Explosion," Hawkeye explained once she caught sight of him. "The truck was escorting a prisoner from holding to the East Penitentiary when it suddenly blew up. Bomb squad said it was activated remotely since there was no timer and no detonator. Thankfully there were only three casualties."

"Only three?" Ed asked incredulously. Hawkeye nodded her head perfunctorily.

"The two guards and the prisoner they were escorting."

"Who was the prisoner?"

"Our friendly neighborhood drug dealer, Mickey Martins," answered Mustang. Ed could now see the chief approaching with an even bigger scowl than Ed's. As Ed surveyed the crime scene, it wasn't hard to see why. Enclosed within the yellow crime scene tape was a practically hollowed out prison transport vehicle, pieces of it scattered here and there across the scene. It was not a pretty picture. Still, Mustang's words rang in his ear with familiarity.

"That guy we brought in this morning?" Ed asked, receiving a nod from Mustang as response. He shook his head and went back to looking at the crime scene. "So, what do you need me for? I'm no bomb squad expert and I doubt there'll be any fingerprints that are usable."

"I know," Mustang said, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "I just want to see what you can glean that the bomb squad guys can't."

Ed frowned but looked back at the scene anyway. He saw that the officers had removed the three bodies from the upright truck already, having placed them to the side. Judging from their burns, they had never stood a chance. Other than that, the numerous truck parts and the overturned lamppost indicated the vehicle had still been moving when the bomb went off. His eyes returned to the positioning of the truck and something clicked in Ed's head.

"The truck didn't flip over," Ed pointed out. "If the bomb were on the outside, wouldn't the truck have flipped?"

"Bomb squad didn't pick up on that," Hawkeye pointed out. Before Mustang could respond, she stepped over the crime scene tape so that she could further examine the interior of the vehicle.

"You're right," Mustang mused quietly. "The force of the blast would have tipped it over, but on the inside it would just cause damage."

"Must've been pretty small or you think someone would've noticed," Ed commented.

"It was small, no bigger than a keychain. I could only imagine what something bigger could do."

"The real question is how it got on the inside."

"That part's easy," Mustang said, giving the forensics specialist a pat on the back. "As much as I hate to admit it, we have a cop who was more than willing to kill."

"Isn't that par for the course these days?"

Mustang gave Ed a half smirk before starting to walk away. "Feury, think you can get me a list of guards assigned on prison transport duty."

Ed chuckled at how nonchalant the chief was about the whole thing, but at the same time he couldn't blame him. His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket and Ed fished it out with a shake of his head. He quickly saw that he had a text from an unknown sender. Ed's lips twitched into a frown. Who would be texting him at this point of the day. Curious, he opened his phone and nearly dropped it.

Who Killed Mickey Martins? You Have 24 Hours.

Fail, And You'll Be Next.

"Mustang!" Ed screamed, an act that was so much unlike him. Said man must have heard the plea in his voice because he all too quickly made his way over. Ed instantly thrust his phone in the man's face and then watched as it changed from one of impassivity to what could only be described as his game face.

"Feury, get to the station and get me that list now!" he suddenly snapped. The young black haired, bespectacled detective jumped in the distance. "Hawkeye, call Havoc and Breda and tell them to get their asses down to the station now! Armstrong, over here."

"Sir?" said the large detective as he made his way to stand beside Ed.

"Fullmetal just got this text. The sender may be around the area. Take some uniforms, preferably Brosh and Ross, and sweep the area."

"Yes! The art of sweeping had been passed down-"

"Just do it!" Armstrong uttered an apology and quickly meandered away. "This certainly changes things."

"Why are they targeting me? I mean, this isn't a prank, is it?" Ed scrutinized the older man a moment.

"If it's a joke, it's pretty sick…and stop looking at me like I would pull something like this," Mustang said with a slap to the back of Ed's head.

"Sorry," Ed said. "Well, whoever they are, they want me to solve this case for whatever reason."

"Yeah, but twenty-four hours isn't a very big window. So we should get going." Mustang didn't even wait for Ed to follow. Ed didn't care and he quickly got back in his car to drive to the station. The Mustang-Hawkeye duo beat him by mere seconds. To his surprise, both Havoc and Breda were already there (actually, Breda had been at the station the whole night). "Conference room, now."

No one disobeyed his orders, and Ed found himself seated with the detectives shortly after. Feury was the last to amble in with a stack of papers in his hands. Armstrong was still nowhere to be seen but Mustang hardly seemed to care at that moment.

"What's going on here, boss?" Breda asked in between yawns.

"At the Martins crime scene, Fullmetal got an anonymous text giving him twenty-four hours to solve the case or he'll be the next to die," the chief announced to the room. That made everyone who hadn't already, sit up sharply. "I don't have to tell you how serious this is. Someone is threatening the life of one of our own, so we need to solve this case quickly. Feury, what do you have for me?"

"Just a few names, but two of those were the guards that died in the explosion," Feury answered, shuffling around with the papers. "I called the prison and the third name called in sick and his co-worker confirmed that the guy could barely even move."

"So, it wasn't the prison transport staff," Mustang said as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"It must have been an officer on duty," Hawkeye stated, her finger tapping rhythmically on the conference room table. "Bomb squad was able to confirm two things before we left. There were no fingerprints or any source of identification within the vehicle and the bomb was located very close to Martins' person. It is possible that an officer on duty could have attached the bomb to Martins since it was very small and he wouldn't have been the wiser."

"There could've been at least twenty different guys on duty, though!" Havoc complained.

"Not really," Ed countered. "Sure, a lot of guys would be on duty but only one would have enough access to get the bomb on Martins."

"The guy in charge of the holding cells at the time of the transfer," Mustang confirmed with a smirk. "Okay, let's find out who was in charge and run his financials. We need to see if there's any reason he'd blow up Martins. Fullmetal, head down to holding and dust for fingerprints."

"You do realize how many fingerprints may be there, right?"

"I do. So let's see if you find any." The idea struck a chord in Ed's mind. Mustang was very obviously hinting at something, something that Ed ruminated upon as he left the detectives to head to the lab. When he grabbed his tools is when it finally hit him: Mustang was hoping for the absence of fingerprints. If there were no fingerprints, it meant that their killer was the officer in charge of the holding cell.

Setting his face into one of determination, Ed made his way to the holding cells as quick as he could. The guard currently on duty there allowed him in and the forensics specialist immediately went to work. He dusted every inch of the cell from the bars to the lock to the bed. He even went as far as to dust down the toilet in the corner, holding his breath the entire time. Nothing showed up. No matter what he did or how many times he repeated his efforts, Ed only received a sweating forehead and the conclusion that the location had been entirely wiped down. Whoever he was, he certainly didn't want anyone to identify him, though that was hardly looking to be a problem now. A triumphant smirk plastered on his face, Ed packed up his belongings and raced from the holding cell. It was a quick trip as he soon saw Mustang coming into view, talking to the hulking form of Armstrong.

"…nothing there," Armstrong said with a frown. "All we could tell was a vacant apartment that had been forced into, but it's not like the perpetrator left any other evidence behind."

"So, that's a dead end, huh?" Mustang commented. "Well, that's a shame. Thanks for trying, though. What do you have for me, Fullmetal?"

"Nothing," Ed piped out. Mustang nodded his head and began to lead the two away from Armstrong. "There wasn't a single fingerprint or anything."

"I had figured," the chief said as they continued their stroll. Ed could see that their course was taking them toward the officers Ross and Brosh, two officers he had come to know well over the last seven months. "We were able to get a confirmation on who was in charge of the holding cells this morning: an officer by the name of Vincent Cohen. He came off duty almost as soon as the transfer was made."

"How soon?"

"Fifteen minutes, which given access is more than enough time to wipe the cell of his presence in it. Either way, on record the man's as pristine as the badge they gave him his first day here. Outstanding officer, always punctual, you name it. Then we took a look at his financials."

"Let me guess: not so squeaky clean?" Ed asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Try seventy-two thousand splotches of dirt," Roy spat with distaste. Ed, himself, almost dropped his case.

"He was paid seventy-two thousand Cenz? ! That's a lot of money!"

"Yeah, and it was made yesterday. It was clearly a payoff of some kind. Ross, Brosh, I have a job for you two!" They had finally reached the loitering officers who snapped to attention at the chief's approach. "I need you two to go to Officer Cohen's place and bring him in for questioning. If he's not there, let me know right away."

"Of course, sir!" When the two departed, Mustang turned back to Ed with a shrug.

"I'd say the fact that you found nothing is the proverbial final nail in the coffin," he told the forensics specialist. "You'd best get back to work, Fullmetal. I'll let you know when we have something."

"You do that, but I'm going to get some coffee first." Ed departed from the conversation immediately. He dropped his case off in the lab (where his two co-workers had just arrived) and went straight back out to his favorite coffee shop. Ed usually couldn't stand the stuff, but over late nights in the lab, he had grown to love it.

As he entered the coffee shop, he found the line inside to be a bit long and the forensics specialist resigned himself to waiting, biting back a yawn. While he waited, he took to people watching, noticing a young couple who were obviously meeting up, a man reading his morning newspaper, and a woman who appeared to have just arrived from dropping her children off at school. There was also a younger man that looked vaguely familiar who was sitting at a table, his leg bouncing agitatedly, as if waiting for someone.

Ed's brow crinkled in concentration, wondering just where he had seen the man before. He was clean-cut with black hair, a mustache and a decent build. The man looked like he worked out, or at least he was active. It was the way his hand kept unconsciously sliding to his side that made Ed remember: this guy worked at East PD. What's he doing here then? Ed thought. His eyes now narrowed, his hand reached into had pocket for his phone as he called Mustang.

"Can't decide what coffee to get, Fullmetal?" the chief joked over the phone.

"What's Cohen look like?" he whispered into the phone. Ed heard shuffling on the other end.

"Black hair, thin mustache. Why?"

"I'm looking at him." The line went dead right away. Cohen's gaze was sweeping the room nervously as Ed watched him. It was unfortunate that the forensics specialist didn't turn away in time because the two quickly locked eyes. There was only a split second between the action and reaction, meaning that Cohen was up in a flash and Ed was chasing after him.

Despite the numerous complaints from other customers, Ed shoved past them on his way to beat Cohen to the door. He wasn't quick enough and Cohen banged the door into an approaching customer as he fled. The forensics specialist was only seconds behind him, his footsteps uneven on the pavement. As Cohen looked back, Ed took it as his chance to speed up, tackle him, and pin him to the floor.

"Did you send the text?" Ed demanded once he had the man secured.

"I don't know what you're-" Cohen tried to say, but was cut off by the presence of other voices.

"We'll take it from here, Fullmetal," called Mustang's cool voice. Ed nodded in understanding as he stood and brought Cohen up with him. "Vincent Cohen, you're under arrest."

"Mustang, sir, just hear me out," Cohen babbled, his eyes wide in fear. Mustang tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for whatever the officer might say. "It wasn't me. I just had to slip the keychain onto Martins."

"Tell me where this renders a non-guilty verdict?"

"I was paid to do it!" the man whined. Ed rolled his eyes. He wasn't really helping his case here.

"If you tell me who, I might be able to cut a deal for you," Mustang said, not an ounce of humor or deception on his face.

"I never met her, but she called herself something like the harpy or something similar. She paid me seventy-two thousand up front and we were supposed to meet so I could get the rest. It was just a job."

"Police work is a job. Working at a coffee shop is a job. What you did is not a job," the chief snapped sternly.

"I have a family. I jut wanted the money to take care of them!" Cohen cried desperately.

"Maybe you should have thought of them before you murdered three people!" At these words, Cohen hung his head. "Havoc, cuff him." Ed moved away from Cohen and towards Mustang while Havoc brought his cuffs out.

BANG!

The gunshot was surprisingly loud on the open street. Screams from lingering citizens pierced the air and Ed felt himself pulled down to the ground along with Mustang. From the other sounds around the area, he figured the other officers had done the same. After a few more seconds and no more noises, the chief released him and they got back up.

"Is everyone okay?" Mustang asked. A scoff was heard behind them, having issued from Havoc.

"Everyone but Cohen," he remarked. Ed whipped around and his eyes immediately fixed upon the lifeless body of Vincent Cohen who had a bullet through his head. Mustang instantly got to work, giving instructions to the officers and detectives around him. Ed hardly paid them mind as he found his phone vibrating. The forensics specialist quickly took it out and looked at the text on the screen.

Round One Complete.

With those words came a surprising sigh of relief from Ed's lips…until he got the second text.

Tell Me, Edward Elric, Do You Like To Play Games?

Author's Note: For the record, in TO CATCH A KILLER we had a grand total of three deaths. Two chapters in here, FIVE deaths. Yeah, this is serious. Anyway, a lot happened in this chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it. I was disappointed with the lack of response last chapter but I hope you'll all surprise me this chapter. Anyway, please Review and Dare to Be Silly.