Author's note: Here's the next chapter. A little short though. Working on the next one. Hope it'll be complete soon!

Chapter 24:

The narrow backstreet had transformed into a media circus by the time Athrun steered his car into the neighbourhood. Media vans were parked in all angles along the road, tyres on and off the sidewalks. Athrun eased his car between two unmarked media vans and killed the engine. Camera flashes went off as soon as he stepped out of the car and microphones were thrust into his face. The noise level became unbearable as reporters shouted questions at him. He kept his head and eyes down and left his subordinates to fend off the onslaught.

The small road had been completely barricade off by vehicles and he had to hike towards the carpark that flanked the rear of the brick building on foot, weaving between cars. The carpark, about the size of a basketball court, was jammed with half a dozen police cruisers, their emergency lights spinning wildly and lighting up the neighbourhood in eerie flashes of red and white.

Aside from patrol cars, the only other vehicle in sight was a beat-up truck, bordered with yellow crime scene tape. Athrun headed for it, stepping around the hoods and trunks of the vehicles, and shouldered his way through the crowd of police officers and crime scene investigators congregated around the cordoned off area. There were few streetlights about, but the entire carpark was bathed in harsh white light from the headlights of the police cruisers. In the bright lighting, Athrun caught sight of the silhouettes in the front seat of the truck and felt his gut clench.

He drew up level with the door of the passenger seat and forced himself to look into the truck, only to regret it instantly.

Officer Brian Hutson had been shot in the forehead. A single clean shot that had killed him instantly. He was slumped back in the seat, his head turned towards the door, gazing through the wound-down window with open eyes. A vacant stare that appeared to see right through Athrun. Across him in the driver seat, Officer Gregory Samson had sagged forward and his head was resting against the steering wheel. Like his partner, his face was turned towards the passenger window and Athrun saw the same bullet hole between his eyes.

Both men killed by a single, perfect shot to the forehead. An expert. What are we dealing with? A superhuman. A shudder ran up Athrun's spine as he recalled Miriallia's words. Athrun was no forensic scientist, but judging from the extent of the scorched marks circling the wounds, he could tell that they had been shot at close range. Point blank. Plus the open window and the direction in which both of them were turned towards. They had wound down the window to talk to someone.

Why? Who had they seen? Someone suspicious? Someone they knew?

Athrun had specifically warned them before sending them out. He had emphasized the cunningness of these criminals. He had told them to trust no one. Officer Hutson and Officer Samson were two of the most cautious and alert detectives he had on his team. He had trained them personally and ensured that he had drilled that lesson into them. So why?

"You're going to ruin the evidence collection like that."

He whirled around and came face to face with Miriallia Haw. The brunette was dressed in a crumpled tee, jeans and jacket, and her brown shoulder-length hair was unkempt. She had evidently been rudely yanked from the warmth of her bed.

She gestured at him grimly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

It was only then that Athrun realised that he had punched the passenger door of the truck in a fit of anger. His fist was still in contact with the cool metal, and he hastily pulled it away. He ignored the nervous glances that the other police officers were giving him.

"I want this truck taken apart, Miriallia," he bit out.

"I intend to," Miriallia's mouth was set in a grim line. "For now, what I can tell you is that the estimated time of death is between 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. last night." She paused and cast her eyes away to look at the ground, though she quickly caught herself and shifted her gaze back to Athrun. But she wasn't quick enough. Athrun knew what had passed through her mind. 11 p.m. He had been at home with his house guests at that time, sipping beer and eating pizza in an attempt to pull himself together, while his men were gunned down in a dilapidated carpark.

"The cause of death for both men is a shot to the head. Close range. Instantly fatal. Same for the woman upstairs." Miriallia nodded over her shoulder in the direction of the brick building. "You should go and take a look."

Athrun nodded and watched Miriallia direct her crime scene techs to dust the edge of the window for fingerprints.

"There is a hidden video camera mounted in the dashboard," Athrun said and Miriallia turned to give him a surprised look. "I told Greg and Brian to get it installed in case… something… happened." Miriallia nodded and snapped her fingers at one of the technicians who quickly slipped open the passenger door with gloved hands and leaned over Officer Hutson's body to search the dashboard.

Athrun was drawn to the faces of the fallen officers, both whitewashed by the bright headlights of the surrounding vehicles. The weeping wounds in their heads stood out in stark relief against their ghastly white faces. He tore his eyes away and headed around the brick building to its front entrance. The front street in was a media hubbub and residents from the residential building across the road had too gathered around, dressed in night robes and jackets over pyjamas.

Athrun entered the front door and stepped into a scantily furnished lobby filled with people – police officers, crime scene techs and furious tenants who had been rudely awakened. He pushed and shoved his way towards the lift, which was crammed full. A young officer stepped out and Athrun thanked him with a polite nod.

The lift stopped on the third floor and the lift passengers spilled out. Athrun was last and he stood on the landing and glanced down both ends of the corridor. It had only been slightly more than a day since he had walked down the very same passageway with Shinn and Luna by his side. That day, the corridor had been empty and he could see stains along the walls and the threadbare carpet.

But what a difference this was. Every door on the floor was open and stuffed with grim-faced police officers questioning bewildered tenants.

Athrun turned right. He spotted Meyrin and Nicol in the first doorway with a nervous fidgety woman in a bathrobe. "When you're done here," Athrun laid a hand on Nicol's shoulder to gain his attention, "take a couple of officers to the opposite building and question the residents there. Someone might have heard or seen something through their window." Nicol nodded.

The door to the third apartment was ajar and barricaded by yellow tape. The lights inside were off and in the gloom, Athrun spotted the still motionless shape on the ground just a few feet away from the door.

He slipped under the tape and crouched by the dead woman's body. There was a bullet hole in her chest slightly to her left, exactly where her heart was positioned. A perfect shot again. Her open eyes were staring up at the ceiling, her mouth was open wide in a grotesque shape. As if she wanted to scream but the bullet had killed her before she could.

Athrun glanced around the apartment from where he was crouching. Nothing seemed out of place. The little house was still as clustered as he remembered it but there were no broken furniture or upset cardboard boxes. All windows were intact. No signs of a struggle or a break-in. He turned to the door and looked at the chain and bolt thoughtfully.

Then he turned back to the victim. She was dressed in a filthy threadbare dressing robe, loosely tied around her waist. Underneath, she had on a cream coloured nightgown. She had been asleep when the killer had arrived, Athrun realised. He stood and walked towards what he guessed was the bedroom, passing technicians who were stalking the apartment, dusting for fingerprints and scrabbling all over the floor in search of evidence.

His hunch was confirmed when he saw the unmade bed with its covers trailing on the floor and the pillows askew. She had been awakened in the middle of the night, then let her murderer in through her door. Why? Was it someone she had known?

"Boss." Athrun turned around in the doorway of the bedroom to see Shinn stepping under the crime scene tape at the entrance and heading towards him.

"Update me."

"The woman was found by a man called Herman Brown. He's her client. They were supposed to meet at the hotel down the street for their scheduled eight p.m. rendezvous. But when she didn't turn up or pick up his calls, Brown came up here to look for her. He banged the door until the neighbour from the fourth apartment came out and told him to shut up. That was when he tried the door and found it unlocked. The moment he found her dead, he called the police," Shinn glanced up from the notebook he was reading off, "I've got Brown downstairs in the lobby if you want to speak to him. He's pale as death. Dearka's watching him right now."

"Okay. You've got his statement?"

"Yes."

"What about the neighbour that came out?"

"Luna's working on it."

"Okay."

"Do you want to speak to Brown?"

"Won't be necessary. Get someone to send him home."

"Got it."

Athrun followed Shinn out of the apartment and waited until the lift was considerably empty before taking it back down to the ground floor. He exited from the front entrance of the building and went around it again to the carpark in the back. The media hadn't moved an inch and the coroner's van had joined the party.

Athrun trudged towards a squad car with its passenger door wide open and sank down into the seat, watching the crime scene technicians doing their job in the beat-up truck. He could see the faint outlines of both officers through the windscreen.

Sitting alone in the police cruiser, he realised that the temperature had dropped. His breath was fogging in the cold frigid air. Police officers and crime scene techs in the carpark had pulled on thick jackets over their uniforms and clothes. Athrun realised then that he had left his own jacket in his car. But he couldn't get himself to move and retrieve it. He didn't have the energy to walk, least of all deal with the media onslaught awaiting him. So he sat where he was, letting the cold seep into his flesh and bones, and hopefully, numb his senses.

Author's note: I only have one thing to say: Review, review, review!