Detective Carter's Pov
Detective Carter arrived at the hotel with the same quiet precision he always carried into crime scenes. He wasn't the kind of cop who barked orders the moment his feet touched the pavement. A tall, broad-shouldered, with lines carved deep around his mouth from years of grim work, Carter walked like a man whose patience was endless.
Trailing behind him, Detective Lopez struggled to mask his eagerness. The girl was barely thirty, with sharp eyes and an itch to prove herself. Every case felt like a test and every silence from Carter felt like a challenge to fill.
The uniform posted by the door of room 214 straightened as they approached.
"Detectives." Officer Martin greeted, pulling off his gloves. "Victim is Michael Gray. Twenty-eight. Found dead this morning by housekeeping when she came in to clean."
Lopez ducked into the room first, the stale air hitting her with the smell of cordite and metal. The body was slumped awkwardly on the bed, a pistol clutched loosely in one hand, a crimson stain blooming across the sheets where his head had rested.
"Staged suicide." Lopez muttered, almost automatically.
Carter stepped in behind her, taking his time. He didn't look at the body right away. First, he studied the angles. Then he turned his eyes to Gray, reading the position like a puzzle.
Finally, he looked at Martin. "Anything on anyone who wanted our guy dead?"
Martin shook his head. "We don't know yet. Guy's clean, no family. He was an orphan, grew up in L.A, but spent the last plus-three years in Canada. Only came back to the States about two weeks ago."
Carter's brow furrowed. "And?"
"We went through his phone. And also got nothing. No call logs, no texts, no emails. Only messages he ever got were promotional junk from some gym... MYM Gym."
Lopez raised her eyebrows. "So either this guy is the loneliest person in the entire world, or…"
"Or..." Carter finished for her, voice steady, "he was in serious business that required him to scrub every piece of activity he left behind."
Lopez stepped closer to the bed, careful not to disturb the forensics team still working. "So we might be looking at a professional hit? Someone who staged this to look like suicide?"
Carter gave a single nod. "Yeah, they could've knocked us off but they played with his face first."
He turned back to Martin. "Any footages?"
Martin grimaced. "Hotel's got nothing. No cameras in the hallways, none outside the building. Place is a black hole."
"Check the neighbors." Carter said. "Surrounding shops, buildings. Anything with an angle on this place."
Ten minutes later, the three of them were hunched in the back office of a pawn shop across the street. The owner, a wiry man with yellow-stained fingers, had given them access to his old security system. The footage wasn't crystal-clear but the camera caught the hotel entrance well enough.
Carter leaned forward, arms folded, as the grainy timestamped video rolled. Michael Gray's sedan pulled up, headlights flashing against the curb. He stepped out, head down, shoulders hunched, and disappeared inside.
Thirty seconds later, another car rolled into view... a sleek Audi that slid into a shadowed stretch of curb like it belonged there. The windows were tinted too dark to see through.
"Pause it." Carter said. Lopez froze the frame.
The Audi's plate was just out of sight, the angle killing their chance at a clean read.
"Damn." Lopez muttered.
"Keep it rolling." Carter said.
They watched as the seconds ticked by. A woman emerged from the Audi, her face obscured by a hoodie and the camera's cheap resolution. She crossed the street casually, slipping into the hotel.
"Friend?" Lopez guessed.
Carter didn't answer.
Minutes later, she reappeared, walking briskly back to the car. She got in and the car didn't move. Time dragged. Hours passed on the counter. Then finally, both car doors opened and she returned to the building with a man beside her.
Neither face was visible. Both wore caps low, both careful with how they moved.
"Fast forward." Carter said.
The playback skipped ahead. Twenty-three minutes later, the pair reemerged, and the woman got into a cab. The man got back into the Audi and pulled away smooth.
Behind them, the timestamp marked the window of Michael Gray's death.
The forensics team had pegged time of death at roughly 2:00 a.m. The footage showed the Audi leaving at 2:07.
Carter sat back, rubbing his chin. "We're not sure it's them. But it's a head start."
Carter pushed off the desk and straightened, fixing Lopez with a look.
"Come on." he said. "Let's see what we can find at that gym."
Lopez zipped up her jacket, eyes still on the frozen image of the Audi. "You really think we'll find something there?"
Carter allowed himself the faintest trace of a smile. "If there's one thing I've learned, Lopez, it's that ghosts always leave footprints. You just gotta know where to look."
They stepped out into the chill of the afternoon.