Mika

Twenty-two-Asiel

"That's sweet," I reply, smiling. "Did you cry first? Or did Alexandra. My bets are on you."

A rumble of laughter leaves his chest as he punches my shoulder. "Fuck you. Stop clowning me. I didn't mean to get emotional. It was a life-changing moment."

I dismiss him with my hand. "I'm not clowning. I'm fucking ecstatic for you guys. Though I'm hurt since I heard I'm not the best man. How can you do that when I introduced you guys in the first place?"

His ears shine pink from embarrassment. "I-I would've, but my brother begged, so... You know. He will never forgive me if I chose you over him. Now, did you really come here to congratulate me on my engagement?"

An awkward smile stretches over my face. "You're right. I had some questions about my brother's cas-."

His eyes widen with alert. "Asiel, I cannot speak about any of my cases with an outsider. It's confidential. Last time was a misjudgment because I felt guilty, but I can't risk my job to help you. My actions don't only reflect me anymore."

I nod, banging my knuckle on the desk. "Name a price then."

He scoffs, eyeing me with disbelief. "This has to be some kind of joke. Are you seriously trying to buy me?"

"Listen, I can imagine how much money it takes to plan a wedding, and I'm willing to offer you extra cash," I explain, maintaining a soothing, calming tone. "But to make some money, I need a favor. Please."

Spencer smacks his lips together, his brows furrowing as he glances at the workers passing by the office. "Ten thousand."

A bit lower than I expected, but I'm not complaining.

"Done."

Spencer pivots on his soles straight to his filed cabinets, pulling open the drawer assigned with the letter 'M-P.' His eyebrows pull tight in concentration as his fingers move swiftly through the files. Anticipation drums in veins like a ticking time bomb. He shared the file with me when they originally closed my brother's case a few months ago. Questions loom in my mind like loose wolves in the wild.

He pulls out a thin beige folder and dumps it on the desk. "Here. We haven't added anything to it since the last time you have seen it."

Giving the folder a stagnant stare, I walk over and hand him a sticky note with names written on it. "I need these folders as well. I also want to pick your brain with a few of my theories."

He heaves a sigh as he scavengers for the additional files. "I see. You still haven't given up hope of finding the truth. I don't know what to tell you, Asiel. All the evidence points to suicide. The only questionable evidence is the lone feather, but it isn't enough to point fingers. There are no fingerprints or evidence of a break-in and only self-inflicted wounds."

My stomach coils like curd milk as I open the file, feeling a pang of regret at his bright picture. It's cruel. There's no doubt in my mind that there's more to the story. Psychology wasn't my best subject, but weren't there be clues if he planned to end everything? Things that were easy to skim over at the time, but when everything subsided made absolute sense. I couldn't find anything.

I traced my steps multiple times, and not one thing pointed to a suicide. But could my mind be playing tricks on me? Am I turning a blind eye in order for the narrative to fit in the way I wanted?

Spencer chucks the last folder in my direction. "What are you looking for, exactly?"

Spreading all the files open on the desk, I take out an identical picture of one sole white feather left at each crime scene. "This. Spencer, it can't be a coincidence that a feather winds up in all these scenes. Think about it. Everyone here has one thing in common. The Mafia. Death is expected, but why is the murderer going through this much trouble to get rid of everyone?"