Night Beats: Ghost in the Vending Machine

Chapter 3: S06E08: Shift Happens

The red and blue light of police cars flashed along the edges of the chain link and green tarpaulin. Already the pulse of the city grew louder, and neither the lights nor banging of the construction site did anything to improve last night's hangover. Jordan had been having the nicest dream of wandering the rose gold beaches of the Bahamas while searching for a tiny umbrella for his drink. But instead of enjoying a Caipirinha to the sound of the ocean, he was slogging through mud, hoping the sausage biscuit and stale coffee he had scarfed down would settle his stomach.

Jordan tapped the sunglasses further up his nose as he turned a corner and the sun broke through two bare beams. They had gotten lucky today. The call had come in quickly enough that the scene was in good shape, but not quickly enough to do much for the victim. The tape was up, and at least ten markers were sinking into the mud, waiting to be photographed before going into evidence.

"Detective Hawkins." A man's voice shoehorned its way between the sound of an impact driver setting bolts in the distance.

"Officer Donovan. How's it going?"

"Working night shifts, so like you'd expect. Looks like you're about as well off." Donovan gave him a grin that said he was tired rather than hungover. But his wife, Jules, was due any day now, so it was a look he'd be familiar with soon enough.

Jordan groaned into his coffee before remembering it was now cold. "I went out to watch the game last night. Mitch was supposed to be on call, but he got a double homicide on the East end, so here I am. You seen Cassidy?"

"Beat you by ten, as usual. But seeing as she's been riding around with you for a couple years now, she's probably got ibuprofen."

"Probably. You first on scene?" he asked while skirting a barricade.

"Yep. Got a call about a disturbance at two thirty. I was over on Idlewood and Sheppard Street, so they dispatched me to the area." Donovan exhaled slowly. "It's a real mess, so I called it in as soon as I saw her. I think the sirens scared whatever it was off, which was fortunate for both of us. Whatever did that-" Donovan pulled off his hat and ran a hand over his dark brown hair, "-I don't wanna even think about running into one."

For a moment, Donovan looked older than a man in his thirties. Jordan couldn't tell if it came from what he'd seen, or the anxiety of how his future might have unfolded if whatever it was hadn't run off.

"I don't know how you do it with these-" Donnie's teeth bared before remembering Jules was one of those 'things'.

But, there was a big difference between a naiad and a ghoul, and Jordan was reminded of it daily. "Well, not all of them are like that, but that's why we're here, to find the ones that are. They put more than humans in danger."

Donnie shook his head and replaced his hat. "Good luck. Lord knows we don't need whatever did that running around loose. Makes you question Mayor Valentine's decision to make Night an asylum city."

"That it does. Take care of yourself, Donnie. Tell Jules I said hey."

Donovan nodded once, then went back to rebuffing the press before they could sneak in and stir up the public for clicks.

Jordan wandered across the muddy path, slowing as he neared an area half hidden behind a stack of massive drainage pipes. Squatted down next to a few prints in the mud was his partner. Jane Cassidy had been assigned to the cryptid unit five years earlier. She had developed a unique interest in the occult thanks to a not so secret allergy to silver.

"Got anything good down there?"

Jane didn't bother looking up as she measured a deep print from claw to palm. "Hard to say, the whole scene is a mess. This is about the only print I can find worth a damn." The small tape measure skittered back into its sheath. "Wow, you look absolutely terrible." The work lights washed her eyes out from a mossy green to a pale gray, but that could have also been the moon. The sun may have risen, but the full moon still hung in the sky.