A virtual map spread across Connor's desk with several points highlighted in a cluster in the warehouse district. He analyzed them, running through the history of the buildings, along with their current usage and state. Several of them were reported to be rundown and unoccupied, perfect for traffickers to operate out of undetected.
"So this is where tracing the information left by the tip got us?" Hank looked over the map as well. "Nothing more specific?"
"We narrowed it as far as we could." Connor half shrugged. "We're lucky we got down to this small an area. A few years ago, this wouldn't even have been possible. But Cyberlife gave me access to the best tracking software, so here we are."
Hank huffed a sigh. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day." He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
"Tomorrow?" Connor glanced at Hank, feeling a flicker of confusion. "We're not looking today?"
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Hank raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly.
Connor checked, and found it was nearly 6pm. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Hank pulled away from the table, stretching slightly. "I know you could go forever, but I need to sleep."
"Right." Connor nodded, smiling sheepishly at his partner.
"I'll talk to the captain and see if we can get backup, just in case. Depending on how large scale this operation is, it might be more than a simple open and close missing persons' case. Then we can try to narrow down the locations a little more and investigate."
Connor nodded, and Hank walked away, headed toward Fowler's office. Connor dropped down into his chair, looking over the map. Part of his mind still ran through possible suspects for who tipped them off. He'd talked to the receptionist, and she confirmed what Richard had said: she hadn't seen who'd left the note, but she spotted it on the counter, and it was addressed to him, so she just left it on his desk, assuming it was from a friend or something.
A thought struck Connor. Even if the receptionist hadn't seen who it was, perhaps one of the cameras in the lobby had. He connected with the feed, running through the footage from the time he'd left to go to Zion and the time he'd come back. In the first couple hours, there was nothing of interest, but approximately 30 minutes before he'd returned, a group of officers had walked out, passing by the lobby and intersecting with several others who had come back in. As the crowd cleared, through the camera's eyes, he spotted the envelop on the reception desk. He reversed the footage then replayed it more slowly, searching for who had left it. There! In the shuffle of bodies, he spotted one reach out to drop the envelop, but he couldn't distinguish who it was before they blended back into the crowd. There were too many people to even discern what the person was wearing. Whoever had left the tip had taken advantage of the midday chaos, no doubt intentionally remaining anonymous.
But why? If they wanted to help with the case, why not come forward with the information? Why the secrecy?
Feeling a small flush of frustration, Connor broke the link with the camera feed and leaned back into his chair, sighing heavily. A few minutes later, Hank walked out of Fowler's office, and the two of them returned home for the night.
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A sleek black car came to a halt outside the nondescript building. The brick exterior of the venue was plain but for the neon sign spelling out the word 'Menagerie' and the velvet ropes slung across the entrance to guide the line of masked patrons. Even from the inside of the car, the Fox could hear the low base from the music rippling out from beyond the half-open door. She adjusted her mask, ensuring that it completely covered her face, then tucked the strands of her artificially black hair into an elegant bun. Her assistant handed her a mirror before exiting the vehicle, and the Fox gave herself a glance, double checking that everything was in place. Satisfied that her identity was fully concealed, she set the mirror aside and waited.
YOU ARE READING
With Civil Hearts and Hands: A DHB Story
Ciencia FicciónLost, aimless, scared, angry. These are the emotions that have plagued Connor since his deviation, but he's learned to live with them, to control them. Now, working back at the precinct, back in his place as a detective, back as Hank's partner, a ne...
