"We better hurry up. Don't want to attract too much attention."

Shiho looked at the member of the search team who had spoken up. Hosho Matsuda had been working in her lab for the past five months and had been roped into this trip only because her other assistant, Ren, had come down with a terrible fever. It was plain in Matsuda's voice that he didn't want to be there and Shiho had to agree with him — there was something about searching the house of a dead person that unsettled her.

Even if Kudo Shinichi hadn't died there.

It was the second time that she had been at the Kudo's residence to ensure that the boy was…terminated. The thought dredged up another wave of disgust and anger at what her creation was being used for. She had not spent years of her life, her parents had not sacrificed theirs, just so Gin and the others could go around killing people without a trace.

But Shiho knew better than to say any of these thoughts aloud. She had no saying in this and even if she had…she wouldn't risk her sister. Shiho might be valuable to the organization, but she was under no illusion — Akemi was expendable.

One wrong move from her and the price would be too much for both of them to bear.

"Just the study and we'll be done," someone said as they entered the expansive room filled to the brim with books.

Shiho held in a sneeze as she walked around the room, the thick layer of dust sent her nose twitching. It was obvious that no one had been living here for some time, but Shiho had received explicit instruction to be throughout.

With that thought in mind, she approached the desk and went through the three drawers, looking for anything that might seem out of place. The first two were the same as the last time she had been there, but the last…

"Find anything?" Matsuda asked in a low voice.

Shiho looked up at his pale face and was reminded of an incident happening in their lab three weeks ago. Matsuda had been the one to report it to her, all nervous and shaking. Instead of being dead, one of the mice had shrunk to a baby.

"Shiho-san?"

Her mind was rapidly forming a conclusion, a dangerous one, and she knew that she didn't have much time. Someone's life — perhaps even several people's — depended on the answer that she was about to give.

Pushing the draw shut, she stood up and stuffed her quivering hands inside her pockets. Her heart was thumping so loud inside her chest, she wondered if the others would be able to hear it.

Fear burning through her veins, Shiho made up her mind and prayed that she wouldn't live to regret it.

"Nothing. Everything is as it was," she said as calmly as possible and walked towards the door, not once looking back at that third drawer.

Where the set of child's clothing that she had seen a month ago was now missing.

Shiho didn't believe in coincidences. The unforgiving world that she grew up in left no place for anything remotely serendipitous.

"The police ruled it as a suicide," Takora had reported, frowning. "Apparently, he was deep in debt and with no means to pay back, he had decided to jump from his own apartment."

"I don't believe it," Kudo had muttered and Shiho had been inclined to agree with him.

The person who had dropped her picture at the cemetery was dead the day after it had happened? That was no coincidence. The BO never left any loose ends behind and Isao Hiroshi was exactly that — a loose end.

After that, Bourbon had contacted Megure and requested access to the case's file, as well as the details of any witnesses. Isao had been buried in a funeral last week, so without any body, pictures were what they had to settle with.

"According to what we see here, this case seems pretty straightforward," Shuichi said once they were in the car on the way to Isao's apartment. He was sitting in the backseat with her, while Kudo was up front, going through another set of pictures. Takora had been ordered to stay behind and find out more information about this person.

"Windows opened, front door locked, mounting debt. Suicide looks like the natural conclusion," Kudo commented. "But obviously, I think we all agree that this is a bit too convenient."

Bourbon nodded. "Someone got to him first. Most likely the person who has ordered him to drop the picture."

"The question is who," Shiho said.

Inside, she was silently seething. If she hadn't wasted all that time avoiding Shuichi, and avoiding asking for help, then perhaps they would have gotten to Isao sooner. As it was, they were two weeks late and the trail must have gone cold. Anything that they could find would be too little too late.

"We'll get to the bottom of this. Don't beat yourself up," came Shuichi's quiet voice from her left, low enough that only she could hear it. Shiho threw him a surprised look, but he merely gave her a small smile in return.

The apartment building where Isao lived was fourteen stories tall and had definitely seen better days. The outside wall, once white and pristine, was stained with green moss and questionable shades of brown that Shiho didn't want to think too hard about. The small garden in the front, probably meant as a recreational space for its residence, was filled with overgrown grass and dying plants.

It was the kind of place that she would expect someone neck-deep in debt to be staying in.

"Says in the file he lived on the eighth floor. Apartment 809," Kudo said as the group waited for the elevator.

"Well, that's high enough to jump," Bourbon commented.

The elevator doors creaked open. They all filed inside and headed up to the eighth floor. The elevator creaked and groaned the entire way, but everyone was too preoccupied to think about how old and unsafe it must be.

"That's 809," Shiho said, pointing to the door at the end of the hallway.

At that moment, the door of apartment 808 cracked open and outwalked a shrunken lady who looked to be in her seventies. Upon noticing their group, she asked, "Are you here to see the apartment?"

"Are you the landlady? Nara-san?" Kudo asked.

"That's me."

He grinned. "Good afternoon, Nara-san. My name is Kudo Shinichi. I'm a private detective. We're here to find out more about Isao-san's death. The police mentioned that you can give us the key to his apartment?"

The lady let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, yes. Fine. I guess it's too much to hope for new renters. Why did that idiot Hiroshi have to jump from my apartment?"

Shiho swallowed, uncomfortable. Isao hadn't seemed like the decent sort, but the way that this lady was talking about him didn't really sit right with her.

It's none of my business, she reminded herself. She needed to focus on what she was here for.

"The file from the police mentioned that you saw him leaving his apartment in the morning. Can you tell us more about that, Nara-san?" Bourbon asked.

"What's there to say?" she grumbled. "I just saw him going out through my window, that's all. Probably went to the pachinko like he always did, wasting even more money."

"And what was he wearing?" Shuichi questioned.

"The black jacket that he always wore. Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't disintegrated by now."

"Do you remember what time it was exactly?" Shuichi pressed.

"It was after Fallen Dynasty finished, so I think around 10h30?" Nara recalled, eyebrows drawn together.

"It says here that the camera at the entrance didn't record him leaving the building that day, though," Kudo said, frowning at the file in his hands.

"Well, who the hell cares about that?" Nara snapped. "You asked me a question and I answered. Now do you want the key or not?"

"Yes, thank you for your assistance, Nara-san," Shiho said, trying to be as gracious as possible.

Once the landlady gave them the key and stalked off, muttering something about how she's going to go watch some Youtube to salvage the rest of her day, the group prepared themselves to enter apartment 809. There was something to be said about how entering crime scenes had become such an integral part of her life as Haibara (probably inevitable given how Kudo was a magnet for death) that she was actually feeling rather nostalgic as she put on plastic gloves and shoe covers.

Perhaps the detective disease was infectious? A possible theory, considering how many detectives there were just in Tokyo alone.

The apartment itself was nothing special. There was the standard furniture like the bed, sofa, and a few chairs — all white and cheaply made. Isao's belongings had probably been donated or thrown away, given the lack of anything remotely personal.

"Not sure if we would be able to find any clues here," she said, spotting a stain on the wall that, again, she didn't want to think too hard about.

"This is the window that he jumped out from according to the police," Kudo remarked as he held up a photo from the file they had gotten from Megure.

Shuichi, who had been inspecting the photo over Kudo's shoulders with narrowed eyes, said: "Window was opened, scuff mark on the ledge. Basically, everything that you can find in the handbook on how to jump from the window and leave clues behind to show that you jumped."

"Which means that this was probably a setup," Bourbon supplied, leaning out the window to inspect the surroundings. "No balcony on either side."

"What strikes me as strange is how Nara-san saw him leaving his apartment at around 10:30, yet there was nothing on CCTV. And the police file says that there's no other entrance," Shiho mused.

"Which means either Nara-san remembered it wrong, or he didn't leave the building at all," Kudo said.

Bourbon nodded. "Suppose the latter is true. That begs the question of what happened between 10:30 in the morning and 5:25 in the afternoon when he was reported dead."

As the others started throwing ideas around, Shiho flipped through the case file again, hoping to look for any additional clues. Highly unlikely, given that the file had been scrutinized to death by three of the best (or possibly the best) detectives that she knew.

It was due to that thought that she almost disregarded the photo of his body.

"Guys, what if he never returned to his apartment after he left?"

The other three turned to look at her with identical questioning looks.

"See here," she said as she pointed to the bottom of the photo where his feet were. "Do you see anything strange?"

The three crouched down to look at the photo and, all at once, realization dawned on them.

"He's wearing his outside shoes," Shuichi commented as he straightened, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "With his pajamas."

"Of course, it's possible that he returned home and jumped without taking off his shoes," she pointed out, not wanting to rule out anything.

"Yet he had time to change into his pajamas? Doubtful," Bourbon said, eyes moving back and forth between the photo of Isao's body and the window. Shiho could practically see that a theory was slowly forming inside his mind and, even though she knew it was entirely inappropriate, she felt like laughing.

These detectives — no matter how different they could be — all shared some similar traits. It was like when God made detectives, he got lazy and just gave them all the same expression when they were thinking hard about something, or when they finally solved the case.

"Someone changed his clothes for him. Perhaps after he was dead but before he was pushed from the building," Shuichi said, then shook his head as he remembered something. "No, some of the witnesses said they heard him screaming before his body hit the ground."

"The culprit could have drugged him and changed his clothes when he was unconscious," Kudo theorized, fingers rubbing his chin. "So that means…," he trailed off and, without another word, he dashed towards the window, leaned outside, and looked up.

She had to wonder what it could possibly be, but whatever it was that Kudo saw, it seemed to have confirmed his deduction, for once he had pulled back from the window, there was that familiar smirk again and the way his eyes lit up in triumph was hard to miss. He shared a look with Bourbon, who nodded back at him, and she could tell that Shuichi had also figured it out.

Shiho sighed. "Do any of you care to let me in on your secret? Or do you still haven't had enough of silently congratulating one another for your brilliance?"

"Well, my dear Watson-" Kudo started, which earned him a glare from Shiho.

Bourbon decided to cut to the chase. "As we suspect foul play, it seems that Isao was pushed from somewhere else in the building. Likely the rooftop. The reason why Nara-san saw him leaving the apartment but we didn't see him on CCTV was because he probably stayed somewhere in the building and met up with the culprit."

"Why the rooftop and not an apartment above or below this one? Or even next to it?"

"A plausible theory, but I think unlikely. It doesn't hurt to go check the rooftop, though. We might find something there," Shuichi suggested.

So it was decided. Night had fallen on the city in the time that they spent in Isao's apartment and, as they reached the rooftop of the building, Shiho regretted not wearing something warmer. The weather had dropped steadily as the end of fall drew near, especially at night.

"See if you can find anything that might give us a clue," Shuichi said to the group at large as they went for the part of the rooftop that was directly above Isao's apartment.

There was no light on the rooftop, so they had to rely on the flashlights on their phones as they spread out. It was probably a bit easier if they had any idea of what they were looking for, especially as the ground was littered with opened beer cans, plastic packaging, and — Shiho had to suppress a sound of disgust — used condoms.

"Fucking hell," she muttered.

"You found something?" Kudo asked as he poked up from behind a cardboard box.

"Oh, I found something alright. Just not-" Shiho trailed off as a glimmer of something shiny caught her eyes. There, nestled between the wall and a discarded cigarette was a silver ball no bigger than the tip of her finger. "Guys, look!" she said, picking up the ball to inspect it. "What do you think this looks like?"

"That's the ball they use for the pachinko machine," Kudo pointed out. "Nara-san did mention Isao had a habit of going to the pachinko parlor, didn't she?"

Bourbon frowned. "This doesn't necessarily belong to Isao, though. And it could very well be a coincidence that it's placed on the part of the rooftop that is right above Isao's apartment."

"Lots of coincidences so far huh," Shiho muttered as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Something about this didn't sit right with her and she had the feeling that she was right on the precipice of an important realization. For now, though, she had to settle with the fact that she didn't have enough on her hands to make the jump yet.

"I think I have an idea," Shuichi said as he stood up from where he had been inspecting the ledge of the rooftop, which was cordoned off by thin metal guardrails. "But first I need to check the CCTV again."

The building manager didn't seem too happy about being woken up from his nap, but he nonetheless led them to the back room where the CCTV archive was stored.

"You're in luck. We never keep any footage more than two-week-old. Tomorrow is the scheduled delete."

Kudo nodded at him. "Thank you."

"Can you show us the footage on October 16, between 4:55 and 5:55?" Shuichi asked.

"Right, 'course. Here you go," the manager said as he fast-forwarded through the footage, making comments every once in a while about people he recognized. "Oh, they live on the first floor...Those people just moved here like 2 months ago. Always making a ruckus. I think the husband's been hitting his wife. Or the other way around. Can't really tell with the way they scream…"

As was shown on the footage, the only people who entered or exited the building during that time frame were the residents of this building. Kudo ruled out the possibility that one of them might be the culprit as it was unlikely that the person would pick someone like Isao, who lived in the same building, to do their dirty work.

"And the footage between 10 and 12 on the same day?" Shuichi requested.

"Like I told the police, I didn't see the guy leave during that time, but okay, whatever you want," the manager said, pulling up the footage of the requested time frame. For the first 25 minutes, it was similar to the video they had just watched — just a record of residents entering and leaving the building.

Just when Shiho was about to write this one off, a black silhouette entered and then disappeared from the frame in just the span of a few seconds. It took her a moment to fully register what she had just seen, and, when she did, it became a struggle to breathe.

It couldn't be…

"Can you replay that?" Bourbon demanded in a tight voice. "Right that part...yes. Stop."

The frame froze, showing them the grainy back of a man dressed in a black coat, with strands of silver hair falling out from under his fedora. Shiho stared at the screen, transfixed by the image of the man that had terrorized her for most of her life — the same person that she thought she had been free of when she woke up in the hospital all those weeks ago.

The fear that she felt when she picked up that strand of silver hair in her living room was nothing compared to what was coursing through her veins and freezing up her inside right now. It had been easy to pretend that the hair had been fake, but this was real video footage of him, alive and walking. There was no ignoring this, no writing it off as a byproduct of her paranoia.

Those shots and the subsequent fire hadn't been enough to kill him, and now he was back, seemingly hellbent on torturing her with this sick game of cat and mouse that he had thought up.

"No, no, no," she muttered, shaking her head as she took one step, then two, then three steps backward. Ignoring the trembling in her legs, ignoring the way that the others were looking at her, Shiho turned and bolted out of the room. Dimly, she could hear someone shouting her name, but everything soon became a blur as she took off down the hallway. She had no real idea of where she was going. She just knew that she couldn't stay in that room and look at the image of his back any moment longer.

Blood pounded in her ears. Thump thump. Thump. Thump. All she could hear was the erratic thudding of her heart. She had to leave. She had to run. Running was what she knew best — it was the only thing she had ever done the moment she realized that she could run from them, run from the organization, run from him.

At some point, the dimly lit hallway bled into dark trees and unlit pavements. The cold night air hit her like a slap on the face, but she didn't stop until she collapsed on a bench, her legs giving out from under her. It couldn't have been that far, but it felt like she had just run a marathon with the way her chest was constricting, like her airway was collapsing on the inside.

As she drew her legs up to her chest, she could feel the sting of her tears as they rolled down her face, one after another. They started out slow, then they kept building and building until wails tore through her throat and her vision blurred.

Gin was alive. Gin was alive. He knew where she lived. He was coming for her. Her friends. The professor. What would happen to them?

What was she supposed to do?

Tbc.

I'm terrible with murder schemes, especially when I'm the one having to think them up and write them out. So the idea for the murder plot in this and the following chapter is not mine. It's from the second episode of Miss Sherlock, which is a fantastic show that I highly recommend.