Criminal puzzles In Texas

Chapter Six

The morning sun spilled through the bathroom window, casting warm streaks of gold across the white tile as Victoria Stewart smoothed the lapels of her tailored blazer. Her reflection stared back — calm, collected, thoroughly professional. But beneath the surface, her nerves simmered like a storm just out of sight.
​She checked her watch. She had exactly thirty minutes before her official check-in. The house was blissfully quiet. Samantha hadn’t started school yet — that milestone was waiting for tomorrow. Today, her daughter was entirely consumed by their new backyard oasis, already mapping out an aggressive swim schedule. It was a massive relief knowing Sam had that distraction to anchor her through the upheaval of the move.
​Victoria grabbed her credentials, her folder of onboarding paperwork, and her keys. Stepping out into the crisp Texas morning, she locked the door on their new life and headed for the precinct.
​San Antonio spread wide around her as she drove. Historic mission architecture stood shoulder-to-shoulder with clean-lined, modern towers, and mesquite trees cast dappled shade over sidewalks still damp from early morning sprinklers. The traffic hummed with commuters, but it flowed smoothly, guiding her past the downtown district and toward the west side of the city.
​The CSI complex rose from a landscaped block like a pale monolith of marble, glass, and brushes steel. The building was a sleek, elongated oval, its wings stretching out like open arms. It was an imposing monument to modern forensics.
​She parked her car, killing the ignition, and stared at the entrance a beat longer than necessary. This was it. First day. New department. New boss.
​Alan.
​The name curled around her thoughts with frustrating ease. Sixteen years, and she still remembered the quiet intensity of his voice, the precise way he stood when explaining a theory, and his dry humor. And, of course, those aviator sunglasses he always wore indoors without ever looking ridiculous — a natural extension of his absolute self-possession.

​Back then, she had been twenty-five, green, and eager to prove herself. He had been the legend everyone in the department talked about. She’d convinced herself it was just a professional crush. One reckless night in San Diego had proven otherwise.

​Victoria stepped out into the mounting morning warmth, adjusted her jacket one last time, and walked through the revolving glass doors. ​The lobby was bright and high-ceilinged, a quiet expanse of polished stone. A digital screen behind the main desk scrolled through recent departmental commendations.
​The receptionist, a cheerful woman in a crisp navy blouse, looked up with a practiced smile. "Good morning! New arrival?"
​"Yes," Victoria said, her voice steady. "Detective Victoria Stewart. I’m transferring in from Phoenix. I’m here to check in with Lieutenant Alan Caine."
​The name still tasted strange in her mouth, no matter how many times she had rehearsed it on the drive over.
​The woman’s eyebrows lifted in recognition. "Ah, yes — Lieutenant Caine mentioned you’d be arriving today. One moment." She typed quickly, then slid a printed security badge and an information packet across the counter. "Head straight down that main corridor, last door on the left. You’ll see his name on the glass. He’s expecting you."
​"Thank you," Victoria said.
​The corridor stretched out ahead of her, bright and sterile, with clean-lined sconces casting diffused light against cream walls. Framed photos of past high-profile casework lined the hallway.
​She walked slowly, the rhythmic click of her heels echoing faintly on the tiled floor. Through narrow observation windows, she caught glimpses of the labs already in motion — gloved technicians bent over microscopes, slides catching the light, and evidence trays being cataloged with meticulous care.
​This place wasn't just an office; it was a highly efficient machine. She was going to have to prove her worth all over again to a brand-new team. And Alan was at the center of it.
​Her steps slowed as she reached the end of the hall.
​There it was. Lieutenant A. Caine was etched neatly into the frosted glass. The office light glowed a warm amber through slatted blinds. Inside, a dark silhouette moved — tall, shoulders squared, hands tucked casually into his pockets. It was a posture she would recognize anywhere.
​Victoria stopped. Her heart thudded once, hard against her ribs. ​She wasn't ready. Not at this exact second. She couldn't just walk in unceremoniously while her lungs felt this tight. ​Turning on her heel, she took a short, looping detour around the adjacent corridor to buy herself a few minutes. She passed the ballistics wing, a door labeled Trace & Audio, and a subtle plaque reading Dr. A. Thomas, Chief Medical Examiner. Names of future colleagues. People who would soon become part of her daily life.

​Reaching a quiet bench near a window overlooking the city, Victoria sat down. She pulled out her new badge, running her thumb over the smooth, cold plastic. ​She had no idea what Alan remembered, or what he would see when he looked at her face after all these years. He would see a seasoned, sharp investigator — not the starstruck rookie from San Diego. But would he look closer? Would he see the secrets she had carried out of California?
​Victoria closed her eyes, took one deep, stabilizing breath of sterile lab air, and let it out. She gathered her composure, stood up, and walked back down the corridor. Stopping directly in front of the frosted glass door, she knocked twice and turned the handle to face the briefing.