Fourteen

Cassandra clenched her jaw, swallowing the unease swirling in her mind. "Alex, you have to take me to forensics," she said quickly, trying to steady herself. "I need to see his body myself."

Alexander nodded silently, understanding that his friend and partner needed assurance. They walked briskly down the police station’s hallway, which now felt even quieter, as if the silence held dark secrets. Their footsteps echoed on the cold, tiled floor as they finally arrived at the forensic room’s door. But before Cassandra could open it, a familiar figure emerged—Detective Martinez, the head of the police.

Martinez closed the door behind him, removing his medical mask with a heavy sigh. His tired eyes met Cassandra’s, and he immediately realized the young woman was there to learn more about what had happened. "Detective Baker," he greeted in a low voice, "you shouldn’t be here."

Cassandra ignored Martinez’s words and looked at him sharply. "I need to see Cale Callaghan’s body. I have to confirm this myself."

Martinez took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as if searching for the right words. "Listen, Cass," he said in a calming tone, "this isn’t easy. We’re all shocked by what happened."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, dissatisfied with the diplomatic answer. "What really happened? How could Cale just die in custody?"

Martinez glanced at Alexander briefly, as if seeking help to calm Cassandra. However, Cassandra wasn’t in the mood to be consoled. The determination in her eyes showed she wouldn’t accept any half-truths. Finally, Martinez relented under Cassandra’s insistence.

"Cale’s death is under investigation, but the initial assumption—" He paused, hesitating to continue, "—he was found hanging in his cell."

Cassandra felt a chill run through her veins. Hanging? Suicide? It didn’t make sense. Cale Callaghan might have been a fraud and an embezzler, but he wasn’t the type to end his life so easily. Too many things didn’t add up in this story.

At that moment, the forensic room door opened, and a tall man with short gray hair appeared—Dr. Andrew, the police’s forensic doctor. He wore a white lab coat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he saw Cassandra and Alexander, he offered a faint smile, though his face showed fatigue from working through the night.

"Dr. Andrew," Cassandra greeted quickly. "What exactly happened to Cale Callaghan?"

Dr. Andrew glanced at Martinez briefly, then looked back at Cassandra calmly. "As I explained to Detective Martinez," he said with a slight sigh, "the initial indications show that Cale died by hanging in his holding cell."

Those words hung in the air, heavy and pressing. Cassandra knew that behind the official explanation, something was wrong.

Dr. Andrew glanced at his watch and sighed. "Sorry, I have to go. There are some report files I need to finish," he said. "If you need more details, Martinez has an initial copy of the forensic report."

With a small nod, Dr. Andrew walked away, leaving Cassandra, Alexander, and Martinez outside the forensic room door. The door clicked softly as it closed, as if signaling that this conversation was about to take a more serious turn.

Martinez looked at Cassandra and Alexander with weary eyes, as someone who had dealt with a long, tense day. "You can go in and see for yourselves," Martinez finally said, his voice low but firm. "I have nothing to hide here."

Without further words, Cassandra and Alexander followed Martinez into the forensic room. The distinctive scent of disinfectant filled their nostrils, causing Cassandra to wrinkle her nose slightly.

In the center of the room, Cale Callaghan’s body lay on a steel table, covered with a white cloth up to his chest. The fluorescent lights above made his skin look pale and cold.

Martinez approached Cale’s body and pulled the cover down slightly, revealing Cale’s neck clearly. Cassandra held her breath for a moment, then stepped closer, examining the wound encircling the man’s neck. A deep red-purple ring stood out starkly on his pale skin, leaving a mark that looked too perfect—as if the rope had pulled tight, cutting off his breath instantly.

Alexander stood on the other side of the table, arms folded, observing closely but saying nothing. Martinez glanced at Cassandra, then spoke softly, "That’s what we found. A rope tied to the bars of his cell. He was found too late to be saved."

Cassandra tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the wound on Cale’s neck. Her gloved fingers moved quietly, touching the edge of the wound with the latex gloves she had already put on.

The wound looked too neat, too precise for something that should have happened in a moment of panic.

"This wound…" Cassandra murmured quietly, almost as if talking to herself. "The shape matches the rope perfectly. But…"

She swallowed, her mind racing. Something didn’t feel right. Cale might look like he’d died by hanging, but something was off—her instincts as a detective screamed that this wasn’t just a typical suicide.

"What are you thinking, Cass?" Alexander finally asked, breaking the silence.

Cassandra took a deep breath, lifting her gaze from Cale’s body and looking at Alexander seriously.

"It looks like a suicide, but I’m not convinced. It’s too perfect. Too… clean." Alexander raised an eyebrow, and Martinez watched Cassandra closely, waiting for her to elaborate.

"This is murder," Cassandra whispered, half to herself, as if confirming her suspicions.

Martinez furrowed his brow, looking at Cassandra skeptically. "Cass, I know you’ve got strong instincts, but we can’t call this a murder without evidence or witnesses." His voice was calm but firm, like someone accustomed to handling baseless theories. "All clues so far point to suicide."

Cassandra looked at Martinez, undeterred. "Martinez, you know this doesn’t make sense. Cale wasn’t the type to commit suicide. He was too cunning to give up so easily. Don’t you remember how insistent he was on bringing his lawyer to meet us and get him released?"

Alexander shifted his position, crossing his arms while looking at Cassandra with doubt. "We know Cale was a smart player. But without additional evidence, we only have one narrative—the one that anyone above us would go with."

Cassandra looked sharply at Alexander, feeling disappointed that her partner doubted her instincts. She pointed at the wound on Cale’s neck, her fingers moving slowly as if unraveling the mystery before her eyes. "Look at this mark. It’s too neat for someone who was panicked and afraid. If he had really committed suicide, the wound wouldn’t look so orderly."

Martinez shrugged, indicating he didn’t see anything unusual. "You can see whatever you want, Cass. But, in the eyes of the law, this is still a suicide."

Cassandra sighed in frustration, rubbing her face roughly, feeling as if she was talking to a wall. "Martinez, you know how many people wanted Cale dead. This is too coincidental. He dies right when we start linking him to Antonio Franches."

Martinez massaged his temples, trying to calm himself amid the tension. "You’re talking about conspiracy, Cass. Without physical evidence or witnesses, it’s all just theory."

Cassandra stepped closer to Martinez, her gaze sharp and filled with determination. "This isn’t theory. It’s a pattern. Everything is too perfect to call it a coincidence."

Alexander remained silent beside her, watching the heated discussion. He knew Cassandra—once she decided on something, nothing could stop her. He also knew Cassandra’s instincts were rarely wrong.

However, this situation was different. They were in an environment that didn’t always allow space for truth, especially without evidence. Martinez finally sighed, loosening his tie, then leaned against the steel table where Cale’s body lay. "We have to be realistic, Cass. Cale’s embezzlement case will soon be closed. The people above us want this to end. There’s no reason to dig deeper."

Martinez’s words hit Cassandra’s ears like a whip.

Her eyes narrowed with anger and determination. "No. I won’t let this end here," she said firmly, almost whispering, yet full of strength.

Martinez raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by Cassandra’s strong response. "Cass—" "There’s no ‘closing’ this case," Cassandra cut him off coldly. "Cale may be dead, but that doesn’t mean we stop. I’ll keep digging until we find who’s behind this."

Martinez looked at her for a long moment, as if wanting to say something but choosing to stay silent. Cassandra knew she was going against the current, but for her, justice wasn’t just about procedure—it was about truth, no matter the risks.