Adam went straight to his small apartment after the conversation with Kowalski, the coroner. He took with him a box containing medical files and autopsy reports from previous years. He no longer needed to worry about finding Penelope—now, he had to find a killer. Steven was covering for him at the station.
Adam was a strong and large young man for his age—he had always been that way since childhood. The fact that he looked older than twenty saved him from uncomfortable questions. His love for investigation came naturally, but he had honed his skills during the two years he spent at Quantico out of the three he attended.
He lost track of time studying the autopsies Kowalski had given him. He realized that, compared to the other bodies, Penelope's was in almost perfect condition. The only similarity they shared were the damned puncture wounds on the neck, which, in some cadavers, looked more like animal bite marks.
Meanwhile, Janet, the first lady, was in the coroner's room, holding her daughter's hand as she lay on the cold table. Kowalski tried to get her to leave, but it was in vain. She spoke, almost as if thinking out loud:
"But look at her—she looks alive!" Janet murmured.
He had no choice but to leave her there, crying with her head resting against her daughter's body.
He recalled a phrase he had read somewhere: "Only a mother's tears can heal a child," and he smiled bitterly.
He wouldn't perform the autopsy immediately. It was already nighttime, and the body could wait. He would do it at dawn, when things had calmed down—after all, it was the mayor's daughter lying there.
While Carl, the mayor, Sheriff Tim, and Steven were in a meeting, in reality, only the sheriff was talking. He was a semi-bald little man who gestured a lot.
Carl lit a cigarette—he had promised Janet he wouldn't smoke anymore, but the situation called for it.
Jack arrived at the office shortly after, wanting to offer his condolences and perhaps console an old friend. But when he arrived, the conversation was:
"Sheriff Tim, as mayor and guardian of this city, I'm taking you off the case," Carl declared.
The sheriff looked surprised. Steven tried to intervene as Carl removed the old badge from the man's chest.
"Mr. Mayor, Sheriff Tim has made the necessary efforts," Steven argued, though not very effectively.
"Sheriff Tim, this is nothing personal—I know you must be a good man. But today, while my daughter was still missing, you were more concerned about lunch, which, by the way, the city hall pays for. From now on, the former sheriff, Jackson, will return to his post, coming out of that retirement I always thought was temporary," Carl stated firmly.
Jack tried to step back, but Carl spoke in a lower voice:
"Please. We're talking about my daughter. This city needs someone with guts, Jack," Carl pleaded.
Adam saw the clock strike eleven at night—he hadn't eaten or showered yet.
He decided to get up and check the fridge, immediately regretting it when he found only two sausages, an egg, half a carton of expired milk, and a frozen Mama Gretta's lasagna. He went with the safest option—the lasagna. It was hot, and he felt like he wouldn't die eating it.
He put it in the microwave and dragged himself to the shower. He heard the microwave beep and went to get his food.
That day had been moderately cold, but as the night progressed, it became impossible to keep the living room window open. Adam closed it and turned on the TV to a "Guess the Price" game show. He didn't even know these shows aired so late, but he needed a distraction—he had to be at the station early the next day.
He ate a little but left the lasagna half-finished.
The kitchen clock struck eleven-thirty, and Adam had already fallen asleep on the couch.
Janet had taken a break and gone to the diner to grab a tuna sandwich and a soda—not because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Penelope's body was stored in the clinic's morgue drawer, yet Janet still refused to leave.
A few hours later, Adam woke up, confused about how he had fallen asleep so quickly, but feeling cold—very cold.
He looked around and saw the TV still on, now playing a wildlife documentary. He scanned the room and focused on the window—the one he had closed.
The cold wind that had woken him up was blowing through it. It was open—or rather, wide open.
Adam slowly approached it, checked the latch, and saw that it was broken. Then he felt something wet on his feet.
Blood. A considerable amount.
He followed the trail and found a cat, mutilated, lying right in front of where he had been sleeping.
"What the hell is this?" Adam thought.
Steven finished his shift and headed straight to Adam's apartment, finding his friend cleaning up the animal's blood.
At first, Adam thought someone had broken into his apartment, but what would they have taken? The most valuable things he owned were a medal he had won in middle school and a small gold brooch shaped like a sailboat, which, according to his aunt, had belonged to his late uncle. Yet, everything was in perfect order—except for the broken window and the dead cat.
"Do you think it was a threat?" Steven asked.
"And who would do that?" Adam replied.
They looked around. There were no signs of a robbery—it could have been a threat, but Adam wasn't entirely convinced.
Steven accompanied Adam to the station.
"You missed all the action, man. The mayor removed Sheriff Tim, Jack took his place, and Carl spent the entire night beating up every known criminal in the city—it was fists flying everywhere," Steven explained.
Adam hadn't even had breakfast—he hadn't done anything at his apartment before leaving and thought about grabbing something on the way. Everything Steven said sounded like a shout.
"Wait, Carl—the mayor? Beat up criminals? What do you mean?" Adam asked.
"Yeah, man, that's what I'm saying—you missed all the action," Steven repeated.