"And you think I'm going to let a lawyer interfere with a police investigation? I thought you attorneys knew better."
Violet smiled weakly, shaking her head. Of course she'd expected the answer.
"Well, I can make a case for the fact that the investigation has been anything but orthodox. I could destroy every single obtained piece of evidence in your case, and you know it, sir."
Rick Cooper folded his arms. "And what is that supposed to mean, miss?"
Violet leaned forward, her polite smile from earlier gone completely. "I'm sure the jury will love hearing all about how the lead investigator has a personal vendetta against my client, and that his boss was too busy getting high off alien drugs to pull him off the case."
Cooper jumped up and stared her down, his nostrils flaring in anger. "What did you just say?"
"We have eyewitnesses putting you at an illegal drug deal. There's photographic evidence." Violet didn't back down. "… I bet the judge would be ecstatic to hear it."
"Listen, you…" He didn't finish the sentiment, "…I am not going to sit here and take these threats. Leave, now, before-…"
"-If you release my client right now, the evidence against you will be destroyed. Take it or leave it."
"Sawyer is a prime suspect in a serial murder case!" Cooper growled.
"I'll get you a new one. The one that actually did it. But your investigator is so hell-bent on frying another detective that he's not seeing that there are other women out there getting murdered while he's sitting on his ass and gloating."
When Violet saw the doubt in the man's eyes, she continued for the final push. "I have an address, and an acceptable theory. Get a warrant, and search the place, or I'll do it myself, and leave you in the dirt with the district attorney. I'm giving you a chance here, mister Cooper. Take it."
Cooper looked away, before sighing. "You'll destroy the photographs?"
"Clean slate." Violet promised.
She watched the man reach for a sheet of paper and a pen, and push it in her direction. Violet smiled as she wrote the address down, and walked out after that.
Alex woke up to a loud banging, and the echoed sound of footsteps.
She opened her eyes carefully, wincing against the fluorescent light, and realized that she was still in the art studio. Her mind was too foggy to think about anything that happened before, but she had to have lost consciousness at some point.
There were four paintings against the wall of her. She must have been out for the fourth one, because she could barely recognize herself looking so scared and vulnerable. She hated that alien for everything she'd done these past weeks. These past years, god knows how many victims she made while she was overseas.
Alex felt sick to her stomach.
But the banging continued. And soon, the door flew open.
Alex curled in on herself, not wanting Jade to see her. To mock her. She closed her eyes, and prayed that the nightmare would be over soon.
A selfish part of her wished that Jade would just kill her already, so she could stop feeling this humiliated.
But instead of taunting words and rough hands, she felt a soft hand on her shoulder, and hair tickling her upper arm. "Alex?"
She knew that voice.
Alex turned around, and her head spun with relief at seeing the woman crouching next to her. "M-Maggie?"
Maggie smiled weakly. "Hey babe… Are you okay?"
"D-don't… don't look at me." Alex whispered, already trying to cover every part of her body she could with her hands. But Maggie reached for her hands and gently pulled them away. "Shhh, it's okay. I got you, you're safe."
"H-how…?"
"There's no time to explain. We need to get out, before she comes back. Can you walk?"
"S-she took my leg…" Alex sobbed, looking around for it but not seeing the prosthetic anywhere. Maggie reached down, and pulled her up to carry her without another sound. "We'll come back for it. We just need to get you somewhere safe."
"I love you…" Alex buried her face in the crook of Maggie's neck, her mind finally trying to come to terms with the fact that Maggie was there. That the both of them were safe now.
Maggie carried her out the back door of the building, and into an alleyway behind it. She set Alex down. "Stay here, okay? I'm going to call for back-up to get her."
Alex nodded, and watched Maggie go back inside the gallery, phone pressed to her ear.
It was close to three in the morning, as three police cruisers pulled up to the curb on Pico Boulevard.
Detective Michael Holmes stepped out of the first one, straightening his coat, and grunting against the nightly chill. He beckoned the rest of his team. "Alright, ladies! I'm doing this as a favor to Cooper and the DA, but I'm not really sure we're going to find anything here. Let's just get this over with so we can all go home and sleep, alright?"
The officers nodded, as Holmes reached for the piece of paper in his pocket, and knocked on the door of the gallery. He took a step back, and waited, but there was no reply.
He shot an annoyed glance backwards, but knocked again. "NCPD!"
"Nobody home." One of the officers sighed.
Holmes reached for the doorknob, and found to his surprise that the door was open. "Probable cause…" He grunted to himself, as he entered the gallery.
"NCPD! Anyone here?"
Once again, the detective received no reply.
"We have a warrant to search your gallery, ma'am? Miss Hayes?"
Holmes sighed, and walked to the back. If there was nobody, that meant that he could at least do his job in peace. Taking just one second to glance over his shoulder at the artwork on the walls.
He never cared much for art.
"Start here, go room by room." He ordered the officers around him. "Look for anything that could have something to do with Sawyer, or the husband."
He watched as his colleagues got to work, but then noticed an ajar door in the back. He pushed it open slowly, and flicked the lights on.
This had to be the studio. It looked like someone had just painted – there was still dirty water in a cup near the easel, and the smell of paint was still fresh.
But apart from that, the place was completely clean. No painting anywhere, just a few blank canvasses in the corner.
He chuckled, and shook his head. Whatever favor Cooper had him doing, he'd be disappointed. Nothing in the building so far lead Holmes to believe that it was anything but a distraction from the perp sitting in holding.
He'd known from the start. He knew he'd seen somebody on Ian's boat, jumping into the water. He knew she stole the case files to obliterate the evidence. And the girlfriend was complicit. He just had to prove it.
Already more than frustrated that he'd been pulled out of bed for a nightly errand of nothingness, Holmes walked back into the hallway, where he met up with the others.
"Place looks clear, sir."
"Nothing relevant to the case."
"I figured." Holmes chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "Let's leave it at this, and get back to our wives then, shall we?"
As he walked out, he pressed his phone to his ear. "… Rick! Yeah, I'm here…"
"And?"
"Well, I don't know whatever magic fairy told you that we'd find something here, but the place is clean. Not even a single splatter of paint. All clear."
"You're sure?"
"It's not my first rodeo, Rick. I know when I'm being strung along. What was this whole thing for anyway?"
"Don't worry about it. Get me a report of the search by noon tomorrow."
"Always a pleasure, boss."
Holmes looked down at his phone and shook his head, tucking it into his pocket, and walking back to his car.
"Night, boys!" He yelled, before starting the engine and speeding off towards the precinct. He'd kill for a burger right now. Maybe a quick stop at the drive-through…
"All units, reports of a 10-54 on Walnut Avenue, available units please respond."
Holmes rolled his eyes, already ignoring the call and praying that somebody else would take it. Not tonight. He was done for tonight.
Until his cellphone rang.
With a frustrated growl, he reached for it, and put it on speaker. "Holmes."
"Mike." It was Cooper.
"Unsatisfied with my work, boss?" Holmes grinned, as he took a left turn.
"Mike, get your ass to Walnut right now."
Holmes frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Now, Holmes. Before I kick you off the force for negligence."
"Alright, alright! God." Holmes grunted, disconnecting the call, and setting a route for Walnut, a few blocks away. Breezing over a clearly unimportant search warrant was one thing – but threatening to fire him over it, that was a bit extreme. Even for Cooper.
He pulled over to the curb, and jumped out of the car, already feeling his patience drop. There were blue flashing lights; one of the cars from earlier had detoured to respond to the call.
An officer ran up to him. "Detective!"
Holmes walked with him, into an alley.
He didn't like where it was going.
"Mailman found it a few minutes ago, on an early round." The officer said, as he covered his mouth and nose. It was obvious that he was a newbie, and not yet familiar with the stench of death.
Holmes however, had his fair share.
The pair walked to the back of the alley, where one lonely dumpster stood against the wall.
And Holmes' stomach dropped.
"Fuck… FUCK!" He yelled, turning around and kicking the nearest trash can.
He didn't need to look into the dumpster to see the hand and hair sticking out of the lid.