Twelve

Sixteen. That was the total number of victims found inside the slaughterhouse. Three found sprawled across the ground— two men, both humans, and a teenage girl. A newborn, Jacob had claimed. The rest of the victims were found inside the walls, and only three were humans.

Several hours might have passed, but Leah could still smell the mood. The taste of vomit still permeated in her despite the numerous times the detective had brushed her teeth and gargled around Listerine. The hardened, season side of Leah told her to get over it—It was sixteen bodies, not sixty. All of the victims were probably involved in illegal dealings and, therefore, suffered for it. They had it coming.

But Bree… that girl. A teenager without a record. The only minor in the group of victims. She didn't deserve that fate.

"You knew her," Leah said to Riley later that morning. A question wasn't needed. She handed the man a copy of a photo found inside Bree's wallet.

Riley examined the page with a pained expression. He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes on that picture in disbelief, in anger, in sorrow. Eventually, he would hand back the piece of paper. "Victoria brought her him not long after me," he quietly said.

Leah gave a stiff nod. "What would Victoria want with a teenager?" she asked, shivering from the bitter cold, she shoved both hands into her coat pocket. It was March, but spring still seemed and felt so far away.

The pair was outside, only standing a few feet apart, both observing Lake Michigan from the Northside and its water, still relatively icy from the winter that refused to relent. Leah was without Jacob; he was currently at Paul's station, apparently trying to talk the combative captain off the ledge. Paul had a lot of his hands with the Slaughterhouse debacle, a case Leah and Jacob were unofficially involved in, due to a possible connection to the Dahlia murder.

Now, what was that possible connection? Leah didn't know, but it existed. She could feel it.

"She was building an army, mostly made of newborns. Age wasn't an issue," Riley explained. "We… Laurent didn't think she was ready to see any action, so he talked Victoria into giving Bree mundane jobs. Like run errands or do secretary work. Simple stuff." His eyebrows drew together. "I don't understand why she was in the stockyards."

"She didn't frequent there?"

Riley shook his head.

"Who's Laurent?"

"Second-in-command," Riley said through gritted teeth. His hands clenched into fists. "Fuck, I can't believe this shit."

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" Leah asked.

"No," Riley said. "I heard about this in the early morning. Laurent was raging about it earlier, but he was speaking in Creole—he's from Haiti. Anyway, I got some words... a botched deal. Something about an ambush."

"From?"

"I honestly don't know," Riley whispered. "The Cullens would never work with the Children of the Moon. They wouldn't even work with shapeshifters."

Leah sighed, recalling Jacob and Paul telling her as such. "So, I've heard…"

"Where is Bree?"

"At the Office of the Medical Examiner," Leah said. "She's a minor, and you're not a close relative. There's nothing you can do."

Riley bit his lip and nodded, disappointed but not surprised. "Make sure she's buried…" He swallowed. "The right way?"

"You two were close?"

Riley gave a small, sad smile. "I had a little sister once," he said, aimlessly staring into the gray distance. "She died in a car accident some years back. Bree reminded me of her."

Leah She could feel his grief rolling off of him, and right then and there, she realized that she couldn't bring herself to deny Riley's request. "I'll personally make sure she has a marked grave," she promised.

"Thank you."

Today was supposed to be Leah's day off—she already had everything planned. It was the Thursday before her cousin's Saturday wedding. She had a flight to Washington the day after. Unfortunately, today was also a day after discovering the murders at the slaughterhouse, and with the Dahlia case up in the air, Leah couldn't bring herself to have a four-day weekend. (Jacob hadn't agreed, which led to their first true argument. Leah had eventually won.)

That morning, the detectives found themselves back inside the Office of the Medical Examiner, at the request of both Dr. Swan and Dr. Yorkie. After exchanging the usual pleasantries and hot cups of coffee (extra shots of espresso for the doctors), they went straight to business.

"So, yesterday morning was a shit-show," Bella started, taking a sip of her coffee as she approached her desk. Eric had run off a few minutes early to get some last-minute breakfast. "Eric and I are going to earn at least forty hours of OT this pay period. Good for our bank accounts, bad for this city."

"Does this mean Cook County's gonna give you more people to dissect the dead?" Jacob asked.

Bella gave an incredulous look. "Ha! "That'll be the day… It's fine. I've completely accepted the fact that I'm not going to have anything resembling a social life for the next year. I think Eric's reaching that point too."

"That's unfortunate," Leah remarked, wondering if she and Jacob were in the same boat. Considering that the detectives still hadn't brought in a viable suspect in the Dahlia case, it was most likely the case.

"Well, welcome to Cook County, I guess," Bella said with a shrug. She set aside her coffee and clapped, "Okay, enough complaining about my lack of a life. There is a reason why I brought you both here. Now, I know the Slaughterhouse case is technically not in your arena, but giving that you were both at the scene, I figure I can ask you a question or two."

"Have you spoken to Paul?" Leah asked.

"Yeah, I'm avoiding him like the plague," Bella said. "Rumor has it; he's not in the best mood right now." After having another sip of her drink, Bella picked up two copies of the files and handed them to the detectives. "In your hands are the reports of all of the victims. We have classified each John and Jane Doe, using every identifiable trait possible save for species."

"Wise move," Jacob said, sifting through the pages. It was a standard report that included the usual information: pictures of the victim, vivid descriptions of the body, and suggested causes of death.

Leah sifted through the report as well; she stopped at the fourth victim. Raising her eyebrow at when she caught something interesting regarding the fourth, she inquired about the, "Silver bullet?"

Jacob froze.

"Yes," Bella confirmed. "Four were found with pure silver bullets inside the plastic. Two with the bullets lodged into their frontal lobe. As previously assumed, everyone was killed execution-style. Nine were shot with ultra-violets. The rest with a standard .22."

"So, the humans were killed with a 22," Leah concluded. "You weren't able to ID any of them?"

"The only ones we were able to ID were the ones found on the floor," Bella said, frustrated. "Everyone in the bags? Nothing. We couldn't get a print."

"Shaved off?" Jacob suggested.

"There were no fingers or toes," Bella clarified with a grimace. "You wouldn't have noticed them with the bodies being in the walls. The wrists were tied behind their backs. Their ankles were tied, interestingly enough to stop the bleeding."

"So, the perps weren't dumbasses," Jacob concluded. "But what I don't understand is if the killers didn't want the victims to be ID'd, why keep them?"

"They're sending a message to some who aren't the authorities," Leah said. "But we were able to ID the three mutilated ones…"

"Oh, they were all killed after the Does," Bella said. "A few hours after, in a matter of fact."

"By?"

"Eric said something about children of the moon, but given that I can't really mention that on paper, I'm just going to say a pack of hungry, pissed-off hounds."

"I'm surprised you believed him," Jacob said.

"A couple of months ago, I would have laughed at him," Bella said, resigned. "But now, I don't know what to believe anymore."

Leah exactly knew what she meant.

She continued to skim through the rest of the report until, stopping at the second to last person. Her focus was on something disturbing in other ways than its gore. She pulled all of the pages back and held up her report, presenting it to Bella. "What the hell is this?'

Jacob leaned over to take a peek and froze.

Bella didn't have to check the page to know just precisely what Leah was referring to. She took another sip, carefully placed the cup on her desk, shoved her hands into her lab coat, and said, voice strained, "That, Detective Uley, is the reason why I wanted to see you guys."

That was a picture a Joe Doe Number 11. Caucasian male, couldn't have been more than twenty-six, lying across the coroner's table in the nude. Well, what was supposed to have been a man. But it was mixed with a wolf—an actual werewolf. Half man, half wolf—except that he was supposed to be a shapeshifter.

"Was he shot mid-transformation?" Leah carefully asked. Jacob had sort of explained the whole transitioning process from a grown adult to a giant wolf. From her understanding, the shift took seconds. The fact that someone was shot during a shift was incredible.

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

Leah let Jacob do most of the talking. He knew Paul. He could handle Paul, she decided as she leaned back against her seat and narrowed her attention on Paul as he skimmed through a copy of Bella's report. Based on the large bags under his eyes, Paul hadn't slept for the past couple of days.

Not that Leah could blame him. It's hard to sleep when the superintendent's foot's far up your ass, Leah could imagine Paul saying.

"Three of the victims were shapeshifters," Jacob explained again. More carefully. More slowly. "All shot at point-blank range with silver bullets. All died from it. One passed while transforming."

Paul was practically gaping at Jacob. "Are you sure they're pure silver?" he asked.

"Bella had ballistics check it out. One hundred percent," Jacob said. "One of the guys even made a joke about selling them to off his mortgage; they were so goddamn pure."

Paul held up the photo of the mysterious victim up to the ceiling light and examined it through squinted eyes. "And it killed a guy..."

"In-mid transformation."

Leah had to ask. "Is... that impossible?"

"It shouldn't have killed him," Paul said, staring at the photo of the victim. "Incapacitate him, sure, but kill him? Especially in the middle of shifting?" He shook his head. "That doesn't add up..."

"Even though he was shot execution-style?" Leah asked, and then, "Look, I don't know much about shapeshifter biology, but I saw how Jacob reacted when Riley shot him in the arm," she quickly glanced at her partner, and then, "It's not outside the realm of possibility—"

"Shapeshifters, as much as I hate to admit it, share some, uh, characteristics with vampires," Paul said. "It takes a lot to kill us. Why do you think it's taken so long to make UV's or... in this case, pure silver bullets laced with fuck-knows-what..."

Leah made every effort not to react to Paul's subtle admission. She wondered if he had even noticed his usage of "us". When she had first met Jacob, he had chosen his words carefully when speaking about his species. Embry attempted to do the same. Paul seemed to be more comfortable talking about it... He must have assumed that she already knew. Three, Leah counted so far, three shapeshifters.

Goodness, gracious.

If Jacob was aware of Paul's slip up, he didn't show it.

"Well, shit," Paul said, bringing the picture down. "First, we have the UV's, and now we have bullets designated for shapeshifters. These bullets could not be only be made out of silver…"

"That's what I'm thinking," Jacob said. "But Ballistics insisted that it's pure with no oddities or additives. But we're not the Children of the Moon, and that man wasn't either."

Leah looked between the two men. Ah, it seemed that Paul wasn't the only one slipping; Jacob had given her all the confirmation she needed to understand about Paul. Paul and Jacob, both shapeshifters and both were comfortable about that fact around her. A human. But she wouldn't mention anything about that; she had to let them start the conversation. It was only fair—she listened quietly as the men went back and forth about "bullet chemistry" and "illegal arms."

"I'll have one of my connections at the ATF check the bullets out," Paul finally said. He's a ballistics nerd; he'll cream in his pants at the sight of this bullet. Hell, he may even do it pro-bono."

"Now, I was told that Sam had asked you both to come to the crime scene a possible connection to the Dahlia case," Paul said. "Did you find anything?"

"Only that Riley, who is sort-of helping us on the Dahlia case, knew the teenage victim," Leah said. "They worked together."

Paul nodded. "Doing what?"

"Victoria was building a newborn army," Jacob said, rolling his eyes. "Apparently."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Paul said, turning the pages to the victims' report. "I had my guys run reports on the shredded victims since they have been on the only ones identified. Victim Number One. Patrick Chin had Jessica's name and phone number in his wallet."

"Of course," Jacob mumbled.

Leah leaned forward. "What was he? I mean, what's his history."

"Mr. Chin from Cicero, dead at 35. His rap sheet was one hundred pages full of possession charges. Was currently on probation for making a plea on an illegal firearm charge."

"Only probation?" Jacob asked.

"He had a damn good lawyer," Paul said, turning another page. "Who conveniently disappeared last year..."

Jacob and Leah exchanged looks.

"Should we investigate—"

"No need," Paul insisted. "The feds are already looking into that case. Anyway, this Patrick worked with the James Gang for years. He was involved in the blood business, getting vials of blood from vampire-enthusiasts."

"Victoria didn't think about turning him?" Leah asked. "I mean, he seemed useful."

"According to Riley, she was going to kill him off," Paul said. "Yeah, I talked to the fool. But I don't think Chin knew that... and I don't think Victoria staged this."

"It's too messy."

"Exactly," Paul said, nodding. "I know this isn't much, but maybe Sam was onto something about the connection between the Slaughterhouse and the Dahlia?"

"Is this your attempt to drag us into the case?" Jacob half-joked.

"Is it working?"

Leah couldn't tell if Paul was joking or not.

Leah had a feeling that she and Jacob would be dragged into the Slaughterhouse case eventually. It was just a matter of time. Paul had seemed adamant about telling the partners all of the gruesome details. Their captain had mentioned it a couple of times. Bella and Eric kept them up to date about any of the autopsy findings—Leah wanted to remind everyone that she and Jacob still had a high-profile case in their hands that was slowly getting replaced by the Slaughterhouse murders.

The press was still talking about the Dahlia case, but instead of taking up half of the newspaper's front page or being a major headline on online publications, it had been reduced to an article or blurb on the side. But the captain, the chief, and the superintendent still wanted it solved, and damn it, that was what Leah and Jacob were going to do.

And because of this, Leah knew that the wedding in Washington would be the closest thing to a vacation that she would be taking until, at the earliest, Christmas-time. If nothing else happened.

That was a major "If".

"I know your job is challenging and time-consuming, but darling, you need to take some time for yourself," Sue would tell her daughter that following Saturday as they both prepared for the family wedding. "Take a weekend vacation. Have a spa day—"

"I'm going with Aisha to King Spa in Niles next weekend," Leah pointed out, straightening her stance so that her mother could zip up the back of her black and blue lace cocktail dress. She studied her reflection through the floor mirror in front of her, wondering if she could put on a pair of tights or not. Washington, like Chicago, was still cold during March.

She decided to leave it alone; she liked her way her long toned legs looked under the knee-length dress. That was one of the upsides of being a detective in a busy unit, chasing criminals on a whim did wonders to her calves. She nodded in approval.

"I'm glad Sam had decided not to come," Sue said a few moments later, standing with her daughter in front of the bathroom sink, both putting on their make-up. "That's probably the smartest thing that man's done all year. I can't imagine him sitting at the same table as Emily and us."

"Emily is still going to be there."

"Well, I suppose glaring at one person is better than two." Sue stopped to pat some blush on her cheeks. "Anyway, Emily's with child. I highly doubt she would do anything that could jeopardize her pregnancy…"

Leah gave her mother the side-eye and frowned. "I'd never—"

"Goodness, Leah, I wasn't talking about you," Sue said, and then with a tsk, "I was walking about Emily making a fool out of herself after a couple of shots of tequila. You know she's a lightweight, despite what she wants to believe."

"Many people can't handle tequila—"

"Leah, can you please stop defending that woman?"

Leah wasn't defending Emily.

She just didn't want to talk about her, but she was her mother's daughter. They shared the same habit of verbally expressing their frustration and bitterness. "Sorry." She shrugged. "I'm used to playing Devil's advocate. It's part of my job."

"Well, you're not working today, so enough for that," Sue said before applying her lipstick. "Speaking of your job…"

Leah didn't like the sound of her mother's tone. "Mom…"

"I just wanted to know how your partner's doing," Sue said, giving her daughter a knowing look. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's fine."

"Quick response, no?"

"He's fine."

"Okay, fine." Sue huffed, and then asked, "You think this one will last?"

Leah put down her eyeshadow and reached for her eyeliner. She supposed her mother had every right to ask that question; her daughter's track record with partners wasn't the greatest. And that was being kind. "He hasn't called me a raging bitch yet, so I think this partnership can last another for a few months."

"You're far from a raging bitch," Sue said. "You know some people can't handle those with strong personalities. Especially coming from a woman." She blinked. "Another few months? Setting yourself up for failure already?'

"I'm being realistic."

"You're being hard on yourself," Sue told her daughter. "You always have been. Even with Sam. Speaking for that man, I hope you're not planning on staying with him."

Leah shook her head. "I told him I wanted a divorce."

"And?"

"He's down."

Sue raised an eyebrow. "And he didn't put up a fight?"

"I didn't give him room to," Leah said. "If he had just cheated, I think I may have given him another chance. Go to some counseling or whatever. I'm sure my trust would be thrown out the window, but I guess things happen… but now?" She shook her head. "It's that pregnancy."

"I don't understand why people can't just invest in birth control," Sue said, rolling her eyes. "Like what's wrong with a condom?"

Leah couldn't help but chuckle. Her mother could be a riot sometimes. "Condoms aren't even fool-proof."

"But common sense is," Sue contended. "But I suppose he's just a man. You know how they can be. Only thinking with one head at a time."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?"

Sue raised another eyebrow. "Am I?"

Leah didn't give her mother an answer.

"So, if anyone asks, and you know they're going to, what's the story behind Sam's absence?"

"He has the flu," Leah said.

"Huh." Sue nodded. She seemed okay with the plan. "Have you told Seth about this?"

Leah dug into her makeup bag for her mascara. "I'm surprised you haven't."

"It's not my place."

Leah glanced at her mother. Like that had stopped Sue before. "I'll tell him eventually."

"Why eventually?"

Because Leah wanted to believe that she was only looking out for Seth's welfare. He had to start on a right foot; having a grudge against one of the most successful detectives in CPD would only hinder that. Seth was a sweet soul, but he could be fiercely protective when he wanted to (and to a fault. Just like his father).

Or maybe this was just another excuse to avoid yet another awkward conversation.

Whatever.

"I'll tell him eventually."

Uneventful was what she needed in her life. Uneventful was what she hadn't had since finding out about Sam, since the Dahlia case and the subsequent string of murders. For about two days, she didn't have to worry about homicides, police-work, more vampire drama, or her marital issues. She just spent time with her family... and thankfully, Emily had steered clear of her. (And Sue, who was ready to speak her mind forcefully if Emily dared to step out of line).

Jacob and Paul had promised not to contact Leah about anything work-related unless it was a serious emergency, and they abode by it. By the time Leah returned to Chicago, she was well-relaxed, well-fed, and relatively stress-free.

Until late Sunday night when she received a text from Jacob that the feds were going to visit their station tomorrow at 10:00 am.

The feds, the FBI, wanted to speak to them.

Back to life.

Back to reality.

In retrospect, Leah didn't think the meeting was a big deal. The police department and the FBI met with each other all the time; although they covered different jurisdictions, there were times when they needed to work together and share information. And the last time she checked, Leah hadn't violated any federal law.

It would be fine. But Jacob, being Jacob, was less than enthused about the meeting. According to him, it wasn't that he didn't like the FBI. It was just that Jacob didn't trust them. He had discovered years ago that he would be perfectly content if someone assured him that he would never, ever have to interact with them ever again. For the rest of his natural life.

And, if possible, the afterlife.

"Jesus Christ, Jacob," Leah said, popping a mint into her mouth. She offered one to Jacob, who declined. "This is only a meeting, not a goddamn interrogation."

Jacob snorted as he drove his car into the parking space and turned off the engine. He took out the key and shoved it into his pocket. "Oh, it's going to turn into one, just you watch."

"You're being dramatic."

"I honestly don't give a shit."

Leah sighed as she unbuckled her seat belt. "At least, it's not the DEA," she reasoned as she followed Jacob out the car and towards the precinct. She didn't have anything personal against the agency, but they were known for giving people a hard time.

"I don't mind the DEA," Jacob insisted as he walked inside. He greeted some fellow officers as he headed to his captain's office, where they were to meet the federal agents. "They don't bother me. Or spy on me."

"I think you're thinking of the NSA."

"Same difference."

Leah shook her head. "I'm sure they're only here to ask some preliminary questions about the Dahlia case and maybe mention the Stockyards. If you haven't noticed, it's big news," Leah told her partner. "It happens all the time with major cases."

"Yeah, like I said, that's how it starts, and then the next thing you know, they're taking over our investigation. And it's not like we can say no. We would get in trouble for obstruction."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Damn it, Jacob, can you please put your dislike for them aside for the next thirty minutes?"

"Okay, fine."

"Thank you." Leah stopped short of the captain's office and turned around, eyeing her partner. "What's up with you and the Bureau, anyway?"

"It's complicated."

"Resorting to Facebook lingo, are we?"

"Shut up."

Leah lightly chuckled; she glad that she was about to make Jacob smile after he had been so grumpy during the entire ride to the precinct. "It will be fine, Jakey, I promise."

"Don't call me that."

"Only if you stop throwing mini-tantrums like you're five," Leah taunted. She chuckled when her partner sent her a half-hearted glare. "Promise?"

"Okay, I'll try my—" Jacob stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Leah watched Jacob as he stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at his phone with a deep frown. She could have sworn she even heard him growl. "What happened now?" she asked.

Jacob didn't immediately reply as he continued to read the message. He returned his phone to his front pocket and said in a grave voice, "Someone managed to get a damn TRO on the Dahlia's autopsy."

A TRO. A temporary restraining. One step below a full-fledged injunction.

On an autopsy for a high-profile murder victim?

"What?" Leah nearly shouted. "Is that even allowed? I thought you couldn't interfere with a murder victim's autopsy? You know, for obvious reasons?"

"Bella just found out twenty minutes ago," Jacob told her, holding up his phone for Leah to see. "Banner, her boss, told her the news."

No wonder the feds were here; they must have received a tip that this wasn't a routine murder. Leah grumbled—well, this was just great. Not only did she and Jacob have to deal with vampires and the mobs; now, they had to worry about potential corruption as well.

"I can't believe this shit," Jacob spat.

"Detective Black and Detective Uley."

"Captain," Jacob acknowledged.

Leah greeted her boss and followed him towards the direction of the conference room, where she assumed the agents were. She occasionally stole glances at her partner to make sure he was okay. This wasn't the time for him to burst a vessel.

Much to Leah's annoyance, Jacob's sour mood had returned. "Do you have any idea what the feds want to talk about?" he asked the captain.

The captain shrugged as he continued walking. "Your investigation into the death of Jessica Stanley has captured some national attention. The feds have reasons to believe that she had some association with the Cullens…and the string of murders."

Jacob and Leah shared a concerned look.

"Reasons? What reasons?" Jacob asked. "The investigation just started. We haven't discovered anything concrete about the Cullens' involvement. I mean, we have our suspicions, but…"

"You haven't, but they did." The captain stopped in front of the meeting room. "Paul's unit received some interesting information as well. They were the ones who called the Bureau."

"Are they taking over our investigation?" Leah asked.

The captain sighed. "I honestly don't know, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'll make sure you'll be able to do your jobs."

"Did you hear the new update on the Denali murders?" Jacob asked. "Or the Dahlia case?"

The captain sighed. "Yeah, I did… I can't say I'm too surprised about the autopsy. Especially with the Honorable Calvin Sorio presiding over the hearing. Do me a favor: don't mention the TRO unless the Bureau does. Got it? We'll figure that mess out later."

"Yes, sir."

"We understand that there has been a string of murders occurring in this city."

Jacob didn't want to answer any of the federal agents' questions, but judging from the looks his captain had been sending him for the past couple of minutes, he realized that he didn't have a choice. "Welcome to Chicago."

Leah nudged Jacob's shin with her foot. She could tell that Agents Patterson and Cruz didn't find humor in Jacob's sarcastic comment. "What he means is that we completely agree with your sentiment. Being in this city, we're used to murders, but not like these."

"Yes, we've heard. That is why we are here," Patterson said, opening the file with all the updated information. "Let's talk about your investigation into the murder of Jessica Stanley. How is it going? Do you have any leads or suspects?"

"It's still ongoing, but some progress has certainly been made," Leah replied before Jacob could make another snarky remark.

The detectives weren't sure if they should mention the temporary injunction. During their drive to the precinct, they both agreed that if the agents didn't bring it up, they wouldn't either.

"Glad to hear that," Agent Patterson said. "Have you come across any information about Miss Stanley's association with a particular organization?"

"Not officially, Agent Patterson," Leah said, quickly glancing at Jacob. "We have some suspicions based on our conversation with the victim's acquaintances. Why do you ask?"

"We have reasons to believe that Miss Stanley was working for the Cullen and/or Denali family in some capacity."

The detectives shared a look; it appeared that their suspicions were founded after all. "Have you been keeping an eye on our investigation from the very beginning?" Jacob asked.

"No," Agent Cruz replied. "We were monitoring the situation along the Illinois/Wisconsin border when we received the news of the murder. We initially assumed that it is just a normal case, but then we heard about the death of Tanya Denali's relative. We all know that the Denalis and the Cullens are very close."

Close wasn't even the half of it, Leah thought. Word on the street was that the families had plans to combine forces officially, and now—Leah's eyes widened. It made sense. Everything just made sense.

No wonder Paul wanted Jacob and Leah involved in his mess.

"I assume you are aware of the Cullens' and the Denalis' plan to combine their organizations, Detective Black and Uley," Cruz said; he must have read Jacob's face during his revelation. "That is why we are here. And for the Volturi, who are most certainly not going to be happy about this move."

"We don't have enough evidence to make the Volturi a suspect," Leah admitted, though she knew that the group must have had something to with Sasha and her baby's murders. "At least, not for Jessica Stanley's murder."

"I'm sure you will soon," Patterson said. "We wanted to talk to you both about what's going on because chances are our investigations are going to cross paths. We won't be actively involved in your murder case, but we will definitely be keeping in touch."

The next morning, the detectives decided to pay an early visit to the man who might be more infuriated about the past couple of months' happenings than the infamous Paul Lahote, himself: Jason Jenks.

The Assistant State Attorney was one of the most fearless, senior members of the Cook County Justice System who had seen it all and seemingly heard it all. He had spent a couple of years butting heads with the infamous Honorable Calvin Sorio, a man who presided over all of the criminal trials even though, as rumors had it, he was a criminal himself.

Sorio's decisions functioned the way most Chicagoan politics had for years. The Windy City, it was indeed. But there wasn't much the ASA could do about it; his overseer, the State Attorney, tended to turn the other cheek. And the judge continuously won elections; had been for the past twenty years.

The mayor liked him. The county executive tolerated him. And the governor adored him— in the fairly-used words of Detective Leah Uley, "It is what it is."

But even with all of Sorio's political connections, that didn't mean Jenks was willing to get fucked over by the corrupt judge. No, that was the State Attorney's modus operandi. Especially when there was a controversial injunction (and the slaughterhouse cases) hitting the media airwaves— Leah felt for the man; the county wasn't paying the man enough.

"With all due respect, Counselor, but what the hell happened?" Jacob asked the prosecutor ever so eloquently.

Jenks glanced up at the two detectives sitting across from him and sighed. He looked exhausted. Finished. Resigned. Fucking frustrated. Pissed-off. Ready to unleash hell. And most of all, in need of a goddamn drink. "Bourbon?" he offered.

Jenks was sitting behind his desk, at work. At a professional and integral institution. Not far from where criminals were prosecuted. A place that didn't permit the usage of tobacco or alcohol, but damn.

"We don't have justification for drinking on the job," Leah remarked, and then added, pitying the poor prosecutor, "Unlike you."

"I need a shot of goddamn rubbing alcohol and a time machine, that's what I need," Jenks grumbled before swallowing down half his drink. He slammed the glass back on the table, folded his hands in front of him, and just sighed. "You know, when I first got this job, I fully expected to deal with some internal corruption and shadiness. After all, we are in the Windy City, but this? This is all kinds of fucked-up."

"You ain't kidding," Jacob mumbled.

"First, the missing bodies that we still can't find, then the slaughterhouse murders, and now, a stay on an autopsy for one of the hottest homicides of the year." Jenks shook his head. "And it's only March. Now, what kind of bullshit is that?"

"First, the missing bodies that we still can't find, then the slaughterhouse murders, and now, a stay on an autopsy for one of the hottest homicides of the year." Jenks shook his head. "And it's only March. Now, what kind of bullshit is that?"

"Is that legal?" Leah asked.

"Technically, yes," Jenks said. I was actually impressed. I fully expected them to do what every other mob does: find alternate and criminal ways to get things down. But they went straight to the court; it's all legal."

Jenks finished his drink, and he poured himself another one.

"Well," Jacob said, straightening up in his seat. "That's unfortunate."

"It's a pain in my ass, is what it is." Jenks shook his head. "I just don't get it. Everyone knows that you don't shut down a homicide-related autopsy even if the family bitches about it. That's stupid; that attracts attention and intrigue, and the next thing you know, you're being indicted for obstruction." He sighed. "Look, I know Sorio is crooked, but he is not dumb. This shit over here? That's a dumb move—Pardon my language."

"Completely understandable, counselor," Jacob said.

"So, what can we do about it?" Leah asked.

"To be completely honest, just continue with your investigation," Jenks said. "We already have an inkling about the cause of death, so go from there. It's murder. Everyone knows that. People don't mutilate themselves like that..."

"But we need that autopsy."

"No shit, but not until trial," Jenks said. "Look, leave it to me. It won't be the first time I have to resort to measures to get shit done, the right and ethical way around here. Isn't that ironic? It's harder to do the right thing than wrong."

Leah shifted in her seat. "This is all disappointing, but I can't say I'm too surprised," she confessed. "Did you hear about Dr. Swan and her late-night visits?"

Jenks frowned. "Yes, I've heard."

"We know Edward Masen, a member of the Cullen family, had visited the medical examiner at least two times to discuss stopping Jessica's autopsy. Dr. Swan had rejected his request both times, and she now has a cop outside of the lab at night."

"Yes, Officer Call, right?"

Jacob shook his head. "He's been relieved of that duty ever since Sam's partner was... you know."

"Oh, I know," Jenks said, rolling his eyes. "The Cullen's have been connected to the Honorable Sorio, but we never had enough proof to show that. I'm sure this Edward talked to the man, offered the man the bank... You know how Sorio loves to make decisions based on how many zeros are involved."

Sorio's dealings weren't much of a secret.

"How hasn't he got nabbed for that?" Leah asked.

"Timing is everything, Detective," Jenks said confidently. "And this little move of his is certainly not going to help his case. I wouldn't worry about him; he'll get his. It's just... this Dahlia case can't be closed."

"We agree," Jacob said. "Do you have any idea why the Cullens want to suppress the findings of the autopsy? We haven't ruled them as suspects..."

"Just because they're not suspects of this murder, doesn't mean they're entirely innocent."

"So why hasn't Edward been arrested for obstruction?" Leah asked.

"That's a question you should be asking your captain," Jenks said. "Anyway, an arrest warrant wouldn't do anyone any good at this time. You're not the only one asking for this Edward's arrest. Paul's asked as well..."

"So...?"

Jacob cleared his throat.

"Oh, come on," Jenks told Leah. "You know this city operates differently than the others. You can bring him on, charge him for whatever, but then there's the Deal."

"The Deal isn't a legal document," Leah contended. She turned to her partner. "Isn't it?"

"It's not that simple..." Jacob mumbled.

"Detective Uley, if there is one thing I've learned in this business, it's that the law isn't black and white. Now, the Deal—it is shady? Of course, it is. But is it legal? Perhaps dubiously, but the Department of Justice is well aware of this document; they're the ones who had put a stamp on it back in the sixties."

Leah couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, we're just going to let Edward run free?"

"We can give him the ol' mob treatment," Jacob suggested. "Get his ass for something else. Like tax invasion."

"That's a federal crime," Jenks reminded the detective. "Outside my jurisdiction, but I'll keep that in mind for the next time the feds grace me with their presence."