𝗠averick jumped out of his chair; Jonah's head snapped up as he listened to the sound of the metal scraping against the carpeted floor of his office. Placing the file in his hand down on his desk with a slap, he joined him in a standing position; he watched the way his features lit up with joy as he bent over the small table he was working on and continued typing.
He rounded his desk and walked over to where he was perched; as he gazed over his shoulder, his eyes widened. After spending the last month and a half slaving over the device before the both of them, he couldn't help but let his grin take over the surface area of his face.
A green light flashed in the corner of the window, signaling the encryption's open doors. Maverick continued typing away, trying to decipher the last passcode on the screen. He entered in a five-digit code, each appearing a black circle over and over again; he thought that his smile may fade to a frown after producing so many failures one after the other, but it did not.
He understood why in the next passing seconds.
"Done!" he announced, stepping back.
"That's it?" Jonah pulled the chair and took a seat.
"Yup. In here you'll find twenty pages of information all pertaining to the case."
Using the white mouse off to the side, he scrolled and sure enough, everything was listed. He didn't want to read all of the information right now, as he wanted to view it when everyone was collected in a room, but he could still see important words like Clarke popping up.
Jonah climbed to his feet again and marched to his desk; slipping his jacket off the back of his chair and onto his arms, he returned and disconnected the flash drive, pocketing it. As much as he had other things to pertain to – being the chief and all – he couldn't let this slide without his watching eyes; curiosity bested him and for once, he wasn't ashamed of it.
"You need a ride?" he asked Maverick as he pulled open the door.
"Nah," he shook his head, leaving.
"Will I see you there?"
"No," he repeated, "Rueben will inform the secondary group after the fact."
"I see."
Maverick nodded and saluted with two fingers, saying nothing more before he spun and headed for the glass door entrance. Needing to make a similar exit, he rounded the corner and stopped at one desk on the way; Auden and Asher were deep in a conversation about the station coffee when they stopped and took in his serious look.
"Did he finally do it?" Asher questioned.
"Yes."
"A man is actually capable, surprisingly," Auden piped up, standing, "Even though it took him long enough."
"Let's go," he ignored the snide remark, "We have to meet up with Rueben."
His two detectives acknowledged his commands and shared a knowing look before walking from behind the desk and matching his speed. The three of them pushed out of the door and climbed into one cruiser; anxiety ate at his skin as he pushed the key into the ignition.
He could lie through his teeth every day that what he did to Rueben a few months ago with the trial, didn't affect him, but he would never believe it on a personal level. The pages of documentation that lay in the flash drive burned a hole in his pocket as he shifted into reverse and then entered the bustling streets of Los Angeles.
Jonah wanted to atone—properly—but if he was going to do so, he needed to understand where he went off-track. There was only one more thing that damaged a man beyond recognition, and it wasn't pride, nor ego—it was simply being undeniably wrong.
Flicking on his lights and siren, ignoring his moral code, he sped through the streets. If he wanted to fix what he broke and build up a relationship with the one he persecuted the most, then he was going to have to take the first steps; breaking a few rules to further quicken the process was harmless.
****
"Well, hello to you too, dear cousin," Rueben remarked.
Jonah rolled his eyes and continued down the hallway to his office; he had knocked as a courtesy, but once the door was open and he was out of the way, he strolled right in and acted as if this place was a home to him—it sort of was due to how many times he's been here before.
His cousin must have understood exactly why he showed up and brought along an entourage of two detectives because without even asking, he rounded up the others. As he sat down at the computer and plugged in the flash drive, Kaiser and his sister appeared, followed by Rayne, Rueben, and Taryn.
Rayne and Rueben immediately took each of his sides, holding onto the desk or the back of the chair while the others stretched across the wall as he eagerly typed in the few things he needed to access the document. He watched their eyes light up just as his had a second ago; the feeling of relief entered the room like a flooded street—not too needed, but still necessary.
"Here we go," Rueben whispered, watching the screen.
"The answers we've been seeking," Rayne added.
He could feel the movements of their hands on the chair as they interlocked their fingers, probably for some type of physical support as they unearthed this emotional turmoil.
Jonah rolled his finger across the mouse, bypassing the first page; it was blank and used as a last resource to throw the investigative noses off the trail. Not a good one, by any means, but it was there, nonetheless.
The moment the screen showed the next page, Rayne leaped forward.
"There!—Dr. Steven Clarke! He had his doctorate in OB/GYN in 1997! That's the year Matteo and I were born; there's no way this isn't our guy," she looked at him.
But he wasn't paying attention.
As she listed off the identifying factors of the doctor that he didn't know, his eyes were scanning the lower parts of the paper. The edges of his fingers twitched and his lip curled as he read off the words, out loud.
"Dr. Steven Clarke re-enrolled in school in 1998 to become a Medical Examiner."
"—and he currently works for the LAPD," Rueben finished for him.
The room grew silent. It was as if all of the windows were magically flung open and winter was upon them once again; it felt like ice cubes were running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs, shooting goosebumps in every direction.
This was unreal.
He had known Steven Clarke since he was a baby patrolman all those years ago; every case he worked with him on—every smile he shot in his direction after a win, it was all fake. Without really wrapping his head around the idea, he knew that his connection ran deeper than these documents were describing. There was just no way that a man like him could live a lie so deeply.
Maybe his altruistic nature led him down the path of killing a healthy mother-to-be, but aiding in abetting in the kidnapping and possible murder of a sixteen-year-old girl?—it was out of the question.
Flinging from his spot, he rubbed a hand across his chin as he paced to the front of the room, away from the screen. Too many thoughts flooded the front of his brain for him to continue on through the encryptions with a clean slate and unrealistic expectations; he was biased.
"Look here," Rayne announced, pointing to something, "It says that his reasons for leaving the medical field were unbeknownst, but he went through a rough patch for his entire last year. His colleagues noted down that he was different—that he acted like a zombie."
"Maybe that was guilt?" Taryn chimed in.
"It's probably why he became an M.E.," Emiko nodded to herself, "—to work with dead people means you never have to worry about their lives being in your hands. It makes perfect sense."
"Care to elaborate?" Auden intervened, glaring at her.
If it bothered her, she paid no attention to it.
"—think about it. If he was the medical examiner that worked on Lilliana's case, then he could have easily spread false information about it. If Mila was actually the one who was murdered, then there's a good chance that whoever set this thing up, had contact with Lilly enough to get her DNA. It could mean that Clarke knows where she is!"
"This is based on the notion that anything was faked," Asher sighed.
"Yes, but her theory is a good place to start," Rueben agreed.
"Can you guys go find out?—like now?" Rayne pleaded.
Jonah ran his hand over his hair and shook his head, turning around. He wished that things like this were as simple as getting information, but if this was to be taken to the next level, he had to make the correct moves that may seem irrational to a group of individuals untrained in law.
"In order to search his place, we'll need a warrant."
"Why can't you just ask him for his permission?" she questioned.
"That's a no-go," Auden answered for him, "If we ask him, we run the risk of letting him know that we're onto him. On top of that, if he says no, it'll give him the time to erase anything that might incriminate him."
"Okay, right," she mulled, "I didn't think of that."
"But even if that's the case, can't we just have Maverick take the back alleys of his computer and phone to find the deleted evidence?" Taryn piqued, "Nothing is ever truly deleted."
"Yes, but that would take longer than getting a warrant," Jonah replied.
"How long will a warrant take?" Emiko asked.
"About a week."
"A week!?" Rayne and Rueben yelled at the same time.
At the sound of their raised voices, the room all but erupted into disputed arguments. Jonah tucked his head in his hands as Asher and Auden continued to reel in the logistics side of this case.
The mafia members argued that they should just break the law and go for it on their lonesome, but if they were to do that, then there would be no hope of prosecuting them. He was thankful when Rayne interrupted them and expressed that if they were to go that route, they would not be able to admit what they found in the court of law because it would be obtained illegally.
Still, even her word did not settle the brewing indecision.
"Everyone just calm down," Kaiser attempted to speak.
Auden and Asher about broke their necks shooting him down with a glare.
The noise in the room must have been affecting Emiko as much as himself because the both of them stood silently against the walls, not participating in anything that was being tossed around. On the off chance that a good idea might emerge, it was a smart move, but if none of that appeared, then their constant bickering and lack of initiative to stop it would send the group into a bigger ditch than the one they'd already started digging.
Thankfully, a loud knock on the door shut the loudness off.
Jonah turned his head and looked at Isaac and Mason; they were standing in the middle of the threshold, Isaac with his phone in his hand, looking into the room, and Mason with his arms crossed, looking anywhere else but the faces of his allies.
"We just got word," Isaac spoke for them, "The twins have located Matteo."
Rayne pushed off the desk and headed toward them, Rueben trailing. He watched as Asher let out a loud breath and plopped in the revolving chair where he once sat. He wanted to pay attention to his actions, as this wasn't their house and their friend had a habit of being sketchy, but the words of the other members had his eyes tearing away.
"Have they talked to him? Is he okay? Will they be able to get him out?" Rayne shot at him.
"They don't know yet," Mason rolled his eyes, "Apparently it's not as easy as one, two, three."
"What does that mean?" Rueben barged.
"It means they're going to make contact within the week," Isaac answered, "With everything that's happened in regards to Kai and Mason; which wasn't a lie, their boss really did target that relationship—the hideout has been put on lockdown. I just got off the phone with Kaedyn and he explained that because of the meeting we held at the warehouse a few weeks ago, their every move has been and will continue to be watched. If they want to get him out, they're going to have to do it slowly and carefully, without causing a ruckus."
Jonah looked away as Mason's face got heated and he slipped out of the doorway, followed by Rueben; Isaac and Rayne's conversation grew hushed, allowing him to hear the click-clack of the computer keys hitting their indentations.
His eyebrows cocked as he noticed Asher typing away as if it was the most natural thing.
Pushing off the wall, he took a few steps toward him; Auden must have noticed too because she went to follow his motions, but he stopped her with a head shake. He knew that he shouldn't trigger his detective with too many taunting and unknowing accusations—especially not from her.
Their bond was already rocky, to begin with.
At least with him, he had to answer.
"Moore, what are you doing?"
"I'm pulling up records."
"For what?"
"Clarke," he mumbled; his eyes darted across the screen repetitively.
"We already came to that conclusion."
"Not entirely."
"Flip the monitor for me then."
But Asher did not; his fingers continued to fly across the keys while his other hand scrolled on the mouse every-so-often. He knew from the moment he met this guy ten months ago, that he was a difficult person—on the brain and physically, but he didn't think he had such balls to go against him in a time like this.
Jonah refused to admit that one of his cops may be dirty, but it was kind of hard to deny the facts that were laid out on the table before him.
Not wanting him to erase what he was doing before it was too late, Jonah whipped around the desk at a pace too fast for him to do anything. Moore looked at him with curious and unkind eyes as he rested his own across the screen; his mouth dropped as he took in the information.
This was the absolute worst time to confess that he was a paranoid freak, yet he knew he had to.
On the screen was none other than what he claimed. The typing must have been done for the search bar and the clicking to view several articles. Each tab on the top of the Google page listed Steven Clarke's name and a different case number.
"What is all of this?"
"Our boy Clarke is a serial," he looked at the screen, "Rayne's mother was not the first."
At the sound of her name, the other guests in the room were brought back to life; they all crowded the small area of the desk, searching for an explanation behind his words.
He continued without having been asked.
"—in some of these articles, it states that a perfectly healthy woman has died on the operating table during c-sections. In others, there are victim families that have come forward with lawsuits; almost all of them were claims of unnecessary force and disfigurement on their loss's body."
"Are you saying that—" Auden's face turned green.
"He's sleeping with dead bodies," Asher looked at Rayne, "I assume that's why he said yes to your mother's pleas."
"But they were friends."
"You never truly know anyone until high-stress takes its place between you."
"I suppose."
"How did you find all of this?" Rueben interrupted.
"Well, I was looking at the documents," he switched tabs, "And I was wondering why he would just suddenly up and change careers after Rayne's mother. It was odd to me that his fellow workers thought him to be neurotic afterward, so I did my own research. Of course, it was more than guilt for taking a life—he was worried he'd get caught doing his patients after passing. And he did," he clicked a new tab, "Whoever made this document wanted to throw us off because he did not replace his job, he got fired. The men of this operation must have placed a barred doctor in a position that would be useful to them."
"But he became a medical examiner in 1998," Taryn stated, "That makes no sense."
"Yeah," Rueben nodded, "Lilliana wasn't even born until 2000."
"That's the only question I can't answer for you."
Asher stood up, making the flock of people disperse.
Jonah tipped his head back and let out a loud sigh, understanding that things were about to get a whole lot more complicated. If having a rotten-egg on the police counsel wasn't bad enough, he now had to go and convince a judge to hand him a warrant to search his office; all of this on the premise of this documentation—which could all end up being circumstantial.
"Can someone make a copy of this for me?" he finally asked the room, "I need to insert this into evidence so I can use it to get a warrant. The quicker, the better."
"Of course," Rueben plopped down, getting to work.
"Is there a chance you could put a rush order on it?" Rayne, hopeful, asked him.
"Afraid not. I can only move as the judge does."
"So where do we go from here?"
"I don't know. We just have to wait."
"So we're sitting ducks, once again," she breathed out, "Square one feels awfully familiar."
At the sound of her words, no one else bothered to utter any more. The hope in the room that had skyrocketed, seemed to dwindle upon their admittance. While there was still more to uncover in there, there was just one part of it he had the ability to focus on.
He knew that someone as smart as a group of people to encrypt this document as heavily as they did, would not lay all of the pieces flat for them to connect—the results were in the mind of the M.E., and for the first time in his life, he concluded that if the law failed him, he would place himself above it.
After all they'd been through, a breakthrough was what they needed.
No matter what it takes.