Inside the squad car, Ginny turned her head in confusion, looking back at the villa growing smaller in the rearview.
After Rorschach had finished his private talk with the girl, he had come out without saying a word, just waved at Ginny to follow, and gone straight back to the car.
For her first homicide case, Ginny was completely lost.
She had not even had a chance to properly look at the body. All the investigative tricks she had picked up from "Sherlock," "CSI," and Agatha Christie novels had not even had time to come out before Rorschach had dragged her away.
"We're just… leaving?" she asked, baffled. "We haven't caught the killer, the scene isn't fully processed, and those two clearly look suspicious. We're really just walking away?"
"The girl is the killer."
Rorschach did not hide it. Then, in a testing tone, he asked, "From the moment we walked in, that girl Maria showed several abnormal signs. Think carefully—what were they?"
Ginny froze for a moment, then carefully replayed every detail from the moment they entered the villa. Tentatively, she said, "Her makeup? Her dad just died, and yet when she showed up she still had light, carefully done makeup on. That's really off."
"Good. Go on," Rorschach nodded, encouraging her.
"And her eyes, and her emotions," Ginny continued. "She stayed in the same house with a corpse for hours and didn't look scared at all. But the moment she heard you wanted to talk to her alone, she hid behind her mother in fear. That's weird too."
The rookie was warming up. "Oh, right—she and her mom said they went grocery shopping this morning, but in a family this rich, that's what the housekeeper usually does. And she was wearing high heels—YSL red soles. What kind of girl who just lost her father puts those on?"
"Hah. Not bad," Rorschach said, genuinely surprised that she had noticed so much.
Sure enough, the only thing that could make a pretty woman observe that carefully was another pretty woman.
"Shame about her mother, though," Ginny suddenly sighed. "She's clearly in the dark. Doesn't know a thing. Her daughter killing her father—that has to be devastating. Hey, Rorschach, even if we don't have hard evidence yet, shouldn't we keep an eye on her?"
Rorschach's satisfied smile faded. He turned to her and asked, "You really think the mother knows nothing?"
"Uh… doesn't she?" Ginny shrugged. "She looked perfectly normal to me."
Rorschach gave a slight nod, then eased the car to a stop at the curb. He pointed outside and said crisply, "Out. Run five kilometers behind the car."
"What?!" Ginny stared, stunned. Before she could ask why, Rorschach had already unbuckled her seat belt and shoved her out.
"When you figure out what's off about the mother, you can get back in!" he called, and the cruiser roared past her, not slowing for a second.
"Hey, you can't do this, Rorschach! My concussion just healed. I'm—I'm still an injured officer!" Ginny shouted after him.
No matter how she yelled, the squad car did not slow. One turn, and it was gone.
She ground her teeth. Having to chase the damn car every day, she felt like her stamina and endurance were about to match a pro athlete's.
Half an hour later, at the precinct.
Ginny staggered in, soaked in sweat, catching herself on the wall as she searched for Rorschach.
After asking a few colleagues, she finally found him in the packed forensics queue.
He was standing in line, looking half‑bored as he waited for the officers ahead to finish submitting their evidence.
Seeing her, he asked casually, "Figure it out yet?"
Ginny shot him a fierce glare, then took a few deep breaths and answered with no small pride, "The mother's shielding her on purpose. From the second we walked in, she kept putting herself between Maria and us. If she's just trying to 'protect' her, it's way too deliberate. That means she knows her daughter killed him, so when cops show up, she doesn't want Maria exposed any more than necessary."
"Very good." Rorschach nodded, looking her in the eye. "Lesson seven of being a good cop: never ignore details. Especially in a homicide. Keep your senses sharp—every odd detail deserves another look."
Ginny snorted softly. She wanted to stay mad at him, but curiosity got the better of her. "If they're both that suspicious, why not haul them in and interrogate them?"
"On what? Our hunches?" Rorschach shot back, then pointed at the long line ahead. "Maria's murder weapon is in there with the evidence. Wait. We might not get prints, but we'll probably find something."
"How long is that going to take?" Ginny frowned at the line.
Because of all the recent shootouts in the city, the pile of weapons waiting for analysis was mountainous. There were at least twenty officers in front of them.
Then she noticed an empty window in the corner.
"Why aren't we going over there?" she asked, pointing at the unmanned station. "There's someone inside."
Rorschach followed her finger, then shook his head. "Trust me. That will only be slower."
Ginny did not believe him at all. She dragged him over to the corner window.
"Uh, hello… Mr. Flash," she said, glancing at the name badge on his chest: "Flash."
"We'd like to check on the weapon from the North Side Sterling Academy homicide."
Behind the glass sat a heavyset, slightly vacant‑looking middle‑aged white guy.
When he saw Ginny, the corners of his mouth began to lift—slowly, slowly, and more slowly still. It was like watching time in slow motion.
"Y‑you… said… which… school?"
It had taken him nearly a full minute to smile and ask that simple question.
Ginny froze. She glanced sideways at Rorschach, who was barely holding back a laugh. Clearly, he knew this man's slow‑motion style all too well.
Biting her lip, Ginny forced herself to keep her cool. "North… Side… Sterling… Academy…"
Rorschach folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching.
The rookie had her face almost pressed to the glass, cheeks puffed as she spoke one word at a time, carefully enunciating, terrified he would miss something.
He suddenly realized the kid was actually kind of cute.
A bit tsundere and willful, but genuinely likable.
That thought reminded him that evaluation day was coming up. What score should he give her? What kind of report?
A shrill ring cut off his thoughts.
He checked the caller ID—Martin. Probably new intel.
The moment he answered, though, his face went hard.
On the other end, it was Gus's voice.
"Rorschach, this is the first. But it won't be the last."
A gunshot cracked through the speaker. The line went dead.
But under the click, Rorschach could still hear Martin's scream of pain.
Meanwhile, outside a school on the South Side.
Carl, the youngest Gallagher boy, had skipped class and was hiding by the wall, sneaking a smoke.
A car rolled to a stop in front of him.
Before he could react, a gun was pressed to his forehead.
(End of Chapter)
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