Chapter 16 : The Detective's Suspicion
Portland PD's bullpen hadn't changed since my last visit, but my perception of it had. Every uniformed officer carried potential threat assessment data. Every detective could be Wesen in disguise. The enhanced senses I'd extracted from Karl picked up coffee breath, nervous sweat, the chemical tang of recently cleaned weapons.
And underneath it all, the sharp silver pulse of another Grimm.
[GRIMM SIGNATURE DETECTED]
[PROXIMITY: 15 METERS]
[IDENTITY: UNKNOWN - RECENTLY AWAKENED]
I followed the signature to its source. Detective Nick Burkhardt stood near the evidence board, photographs of a new murder victim spread before him. Young guy, early thirties, the kind of earnest face that belonged on recruitment posters. His eyes flicked toward me as I approached—and for a moment, silver light flickered behind them.
He'd awakened. Marie Burkhardt's nephew, stumbling into his heritage just like I had, except he didn't have a System guiding his steps.
"This is going to be complicated."
"Detective Burkhardt." I kept my voice professionally neutral. "Dispatch said you needed a forensic consultant."
Nick turned fully to face me. His posture shifted—subtle tension, the kind of alertness that came from sensing something wrong without understanding what. His Grimm instincts were warning him, even if his conscious mind hadn't caught up.
"Cross, right? The consultant who's been working the weird cases?"
"Weird is relative. What do you have?"
He gestured toward the photographs. The victim was male, twenties, torn apart in ways that screamed Wesen violence. Four parallel lacerations across the chest. Bite marks on the throat. The kind of damage that would get filed under "animal attack" by anyone who didn't know better.
"Found him in a warehouse near the industrial district." Nick watched my reaction closely. "Third body this month with similar wounds. All of them connected to people who've been asking questions about—" He paused, choosing words carefully. "About unusual phenomena."
[VICTIM ANALYSIS: WESEN-RELATED DEATH]
[WOUND PATTERN: BLUTBAD (87%) OR HUNDJÄGER (73%)]
[NOTE: VICTIM MAY HAVE BEEN INVESTIGATING WESEN ACTIVITY]
I studied the photographs, letting the System's analysis overlay my own observations. The wounds were familiar—too familiar. This looked like the same attack patterns I'd seen at the meatpacking plant, back when Karl and his ferals had tried to kill me.
"These wounds match cases from two weeks ago," I said carefully. "The warehouse incident in the industrial district."
Nick's attention sharpened. "You worked that scene?"
"Consulted. The official report called it gang violence, but the wound patterns don't match human weapons." I set down the photograph. "Detective, what exactly are you investigating?"
The question was a test. Nick's answer would tell me how far along his awakening had progressed—whether he understood what he was seeing, or whether he was still groping in the dark.
"I'm investigating murders." His tone was guarded. "Same as always. But lately the murders have been... strange. Witnesses who describe impossible things. Evidence that doesn't make sense. And consultants who keep showing up at scenes that never get properly solved."
"He suspects. Doesn't know, but suspects."
"Cross." Detective Hank Griffin appeared at Nick's shoulder, carrying two cups of precinct coffee. He nodded at me—familiar recognition from past consulting work. "Didn't know you were coming in today."
"Last-minute request." I accepted the distraction gratefully. "Good to see you, Detective Griffin."
"Hank." He handed one cup to Nick, keeping the other. "You're the guy who found those weird marks at the Forest Park scene, right? Nick's been going through your reports."
Nick shot his partner a look that suggested this wasn't information he'd wanted shared. I filed it away—Nick was investigating me, quietly, probably without full official sanction.
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: NICK BURKHARDT]
[STATUS: AWAKENING GRIMM]
[AFFILIATION: PORTLAND PD / RENARD'S INFLUENCE]
[RECOMMENDATION: MONITOR BUT DO NOT ENGAGE]
"I've taken some unusual cases lately," I admitted. "Overlapping patterns, connected victims. The kind of thing that doesn't fit neat categories."
"Funny." Nick's voice had an edge now. "Those cases keep connecting to incidents that go sideways. The warehouse shooting. The hotel disappearances. That Ziegevolk who turned up dead at the convention center—"
"The what?"
"Ziegevolk." Nick said the word like he was testing it. "It's a... never mind. Old family term."
He knew the species name. Which meant Marie had told him something before she died, or he'd started researching on his own. Either way, Nick Burkhardt was further along than I'd hoped.
"Detective, I'm happy to discuss my consulting work, but maybe not in the middle of the bullpen." I glanced around at the officers moving through the space. "Some of these cases involve sensitive information."
"My office." The voice came from behind us—Captain Sean Renard, emerging from his glass-walled domain like a shark smelling blood. "Both of you."
Renard's office was designed to intimidate. Large desk, minimal personal items, windows overlooking the bullpen like a watchtower. He settled into his chair and gestured for Nick and me to sit.
"Detective Burkhardt has been doing excellent work on these unusual cases." Renard's tone was smooth, controlled. "I've encouraged him to consult our forensic specialists when patterns emerge."
"Encouraged. Right."
Nick sat rigidly, clearly uncomfortable with the captain's involvement. Whatever dynamic existed between them, it wasn't simple hierarchy.
"Mr. Cross has been valuable in similar matters," Renard continued. "I thought bringing you both together might prove... productive."
The manipulation was blatant. Renard was testing us—seeing how two Grimms would interact, whether we'd recognize each other, what complications might arise from having us in the same room.
I decided to take control of the conversation.
"Captain, I appreciate the introduction, but Detective Burkhardt's cases and mine don't overlap as much as they might seem. Different victims, different patterns." I stood, maintaining eye contact with Renard. "I'll review the forensic reports and send my analysis to the detective. Unless there's something else?"
Renard's expression flickered—surprise, maybe, at being dismissed so casually. Then something like amusement.
"Actually, there is." He leaned back, fingers steepled. "Detective Burkhardt, could you give us a moment?"
Nick hesitated, clearly wanting to stay, but professional hierarchy won out. He left the office, closing the door behind him.
Renard's woge didn't surface, but I could feel it pressing against his human facade. The Zauberbiest watching from behind cultured features.
"Detective Burkhardt is my asset, Mr. Cross." The pretense of civility dropped from his voice. "His development is proceeding according to my timeline. If you interfere with that timeline, our mutual acquaintance will be very disappointed."
"Adalind reported the alliance. Of course she did."
"I have no interest in your detective, Captain." I kept my voice level. "I'm building something else entirely."
"Yes. I've heard." Renard stood, moving to the window, looking down at the bullpen where Nick had rejoined Hank. "A network. Allies. A different kind of Grimm operation. Very ambitious for someone who's been in Portland less than three weeks."
"Necessity breeds innovation."
"It also breeds mistakes." He turned to face me. "The Reapers want you dead. Viktor is watching your every move. And now you've caught my detective's attention. That's a lot of enemies for someone who hasn't even mastered basic combat."
The observation stung because it was accurate.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Captain?"
"The point is that I'm tolerating your presence because you're useful to Adalind, and Adalind is useful to me. The moment that calculation changes—" He left the threat unfinished, letting silence fill the gap.
"Understood."
I left the office, feeling Renard's eyes on my back. In the bullpen, Nick was watching me too—suspicious, curious, trying to piece together a puzzle he didn't have all the edges for.
Two Grimms in one city. A captain who was also a Zauberbiest and a Royal bastard. Reapers hunting me, Viktor testing me, and now a detective who might become either ally or enemy depending on choices neither of us had made yet.
The game kept getting more complicated.
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