Benedict slowly let his gaze wander through the narrow alley. The city had installed lamps at the most important spots, but dark shadows lay between the cones of light. The pale daylight barely reached this far and mixed with the artificial light, leaving everything in a dull gray. You could see just enough to find your bearings—but not enough to make out details without looking closely.
Behind him, a jacket rustled.
"What do we have?" Sebastian yawned and rubbed his face.
Benedict knelt beside one of the dark pools on the asphalt.
"Quite a lot of blood. No bodies."
His voice remained matter-of-fact as he examined the traces. Some of the blood had already dried and stretched across the ground in thin rivulets, as if someone had tried to drag themselves farther along.
"Someone definitely bled out here," Benedict said after a moment. "That's too much blood for whoever it was to have just shrugged it off."
Sebastian crossed his arms.
"Well. Unfortunately no hospital has admitted any patients with severe blood loss. And there wasn't any ambulance call-out here either."
Benedict stood up again and carefully took a few steps farther into the alley. His shoes landed deliberately so he wouldn't destroy anything that might still be important. The forensics team had already been through and documented everything, but experience had taught him that the decisive little details often only became noticeable afterward.
The blood traces stretched over several meters.
"The trail leads to the other end of the alley," Benedict finally said, pointing to a wide, smeared patch on the ground. "And here… they suddenly stop."
Sebastian stepped up beside him.
"That they're not here anymore is obvious. You think someone removed the bodies?"
Benedict nodded.
"They were definitely taken away in a car. Look at this." He pointed to the tire tracks faintly visible in the damp dirt. "Someone stopped here. Probably loaded them in quickly and then left."
He straightened and looked around once more.
"I'd say it was a dispute between gangsters."
Sebastian snorted quietly.
"I'd be very surprised if it wasn't."
He let his gaze wander through the alley as well. Then he suddenly narrowed his eyes.
"What's that?"
Benedict followed his gaze.
"What do you mean?"
Sebastian grinned crookedly.
"You're just as blind as the forensics guys if you can't see that."
He walked over to the side wall of the alley—an old brick wall whose surface was covered with cracks and graffiti.
Benedict paused for a moment and tried to figure out what Sebastian was pointing at. But no matter how much he squinted, he couldn't see anything unusual.
Eventually he followed Sebastian to the wall.
Then he noticed it. Something small glinted faintly in the light of one of the lamps.
"What…," Benedict began.
But Sebastian had already waved over one of the forensic technicians who was still working at the end of the alley. The man came over, took a photo, then pulled a small toolkit from his bag and carefully began to pry the shiny object out of the wall.
"Is that a bullet?" Benedict asked.
The technician nodded.
"Looks like it."
Benedict crouched down and examined the bullet hole more closely. The edges were frayed, and fine dust traces still clung to the brickwork.
"How the hell did you spot that?" he asked incredulously. He measured the distance from the ground. "Depending on the height of the person who was hit, this would be roughly at thigh level."
Sebastian crouched down as well.
"The shot doesn't seem to have been straight."
He shone his flashlight into the hole, then held his arm in front of it and tried to reconstruct the direction the shot had come from. Afterwards he looked behind himself and critically examined the pools of blood on the ground.
Benedict watched him silently.
"One of the people who was lying on the ground fired the shot. That stain over there is the only one that would fit. So we're looking at a lower entry wound and a higher exit wound. Either a graze or a clean pass-through." Sebastian glanced around thoughtfully. "If it was a pass-through, then most likely just soft tissue without vascular damage. Otherwise there would be even more blood here."
Benedict stood up and took another careful look around the alley.
"Seems to be the only bullet as well. The emergency call came in around six at the precinct. The officers were here less than ten minutes later. By then nobody was here anymore. People heard sounds of a fight, but nobody reported a gunshot," Benedict summarized.
"They probably use suppressors," Sebastian added. He stepped back a little and pointed his flashlight at several dark traces on the asphalt. "Some of the blood patterns suggest blades."
Benedict narrowed his eyes and examined the stains more closely. Some were smeared broadly, others spread in thin lines.
"There were at least three people," he said thoughtfully. "Though I'd guess four."
He scratched his chin.
"Damn. I'm really curious what the analyses will show."
Sebastian stretched briefly until his shoulders cracked softly.
"So, should we start questioning people? Maybe someone did hear something after all."
Benedict looked toward the mouth of the alley.
"Let's go to the café first. It's right around the corner. Isaac must have noticed something."
Sebastian laughed quietly.
"You just want to see him."
Benedict shot him a dry look.
Sebastian kept grinning.
"If he had really noticed something, he probably would've called. Don't you think?"
Benedict rolled his eyes.
"As if that thought hadn't crossed your mind too."
Sebastian raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"Of course. We still have quite a few conversations ahead of us. That's not happening without coffee," he grinned. He briefly patted Benedict on the shoulder. "And Isaac makes damn good coffee."
Benedict couldn't help a small smile.
Together they left the alley and stepped back out onto the street. By now the morning had progressed, and the city was slowly waking up. Cars passed by, somewhere a trash bin clattered, and from the direction of the café drifted the faint smell of fresh coffee.
Benedict saw Isaac almost every morning before heading to work.
Ever since he had apologized for his behavior during their lunch together, Isaac had seemed a little more approachable again. Even so, Benedict still had the feeling that Isaac was keeping a certain distance.
They hadn't spoken about the scar again. They also hadn't met up, or arranged to meet.
He was just glad that Isaac still spoke to him at all, even if the conversations were mostly superficial and general. Benedict felt guilty anyway.
Because the whole matter hadn't really let go of him. And Isaac's defensiveness had unfortunately only led to curiosity winning in the end. He had started digging—and he was still doing it. No matter which lead he followed, everything ended in nothing.
As if the event had never existed.
At least by now he had managed to narrow it down to a rough time frame. Very roughly, but based on the appearance of the scar he assumed it must have happened about ten years ago—if not even longer.
Isaac had said something about it being a very long time ago. Of course that was a rather vague statement, but he had to start somewhere. Something about Isaac bothered him. He just didn't know exactly what it was, and his gut feeling simply wouldn't leave him alone.
The albino seemed to have at least one dark secret he didn't want to tell Benedict.
Benedict was fully aware of that fact.
He had fallen in love with Isaac.
That didn't mean he had lost his mind. Or that he let himself be guided blindly by his feelings. Even though Sebastian would probably claim exactly that.
Alright. Maybe he was a bit of a lovestruck fool.
But precisely because of that, he wanted this nagging feeling in his gut to disappear before they took the next step. Trust only worked if you didn't constantly feel like you were overlooking something important.
Provided, of course, that Isaac still wanted him at all.
The thought made Benedict's stomach tighten unpleasantly for a moment.
At least he hoped so, even though his gut feeling was still telling him something else.
They reached the Café Noir. The small bell above the door rang brightly as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries hung in the air. But Isaac was not behind the counter.
Instead, his boss Kieran looked up at them.
Benedict frowned involuntarily.
Strange—he had said he would be working today…
"Good morning," Benedict said as he stepped up to the counter. "Is Isaac here by any chance?"
Kieran looked up and smiled politely.
"No, he has the day off today," he replied calmly. "What can I do for you?"
Sebastian stepped half a step forward and pulled out his badge.
"We have a few questions."
He briefly held up the badge.
"Did you happen to hear or notice anything unusual when you opened the café this morning?"
Kieran raised his eyebrows slightly. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face.
"No," he said at last, shrugging. "Does that have something to do with what you're doing in the alley next door?"
Sebastian gave a short nod.
"Of course I can't share any details, but I'd like to know whether you might have seen a group of at least three people. It would also be interesting if you might have heard… let's say, sounds of a fight."
Kieran's eyes widened.
"Oh dear," he said, startled. "Was someone hurt?"
Sebastian remained matter-of-fact.
"It would be helpful if you simply answered my question. As I said, I can't discuss any details."
Kieran raised his hands in a calming gesture.
"I didn't see or hear anyone," Kieran replied. "Unfortunately, I overslept a little and didn't open the café until around 6:20 a.m. You can probably imagine how much I had to take care of when I arrived."
Benedict tilted his head slightly.
Something about that statement bothered him. He couldn't quite say what it was—but it felt… incomplete.
"Isaac said he had the early shift today," Benedict said calmly. "Where is he?"
Kieran answered without hesitation.
"We switched shifts."
"He asked me for some last-minute time off yesterday evening. Apparently he received an important commission he had to take care of."
A small smile flickered across his face.
"You already know he's an artist."
Benedict wrote the statement down in his notebook.
"Nice of you to give him time off on such short notice," he remarked casually.
He watched Kieran closely. However, he behaved exactly as Benedict had come to know him. A friendly smile played on his lips as he placed another cup on the shelf and picked up the next one.
Benedict, meanwhile, felt his gut instinct stirring again.
Isaac had taken spontaneous leave. Of all days, today.
Of all mornings—the very one when quite a bit of blood had been found in the alley beside his workplace. Involuntarily, he thought of the attempted abduction that had happened not too long ago. He resisted the urge to call him immediately to ask if he was alright.
"He's one of my best employees," Kieran said calmly. "Isaac has stepped in so many times when someone was sick or unavailable that he more than deserves the spontaneous time off."
He placed the dried cup on the shelf and briefly crossed his arms.
"Even though, to be honest, I'd prefer if he actually took a real vacation." A quiet sigh escaped him. "He's… very conscientious. Perhaps sometimes even too much."
Benedict watched him for a moment. There was no criticism in Kieran's voice—rather something like genuine appreciation, mixed with a hint of concern.
Benedict closed his notebook.
"Thank you for your statement," Sebastian said at last. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.
"If anything else comes to mind, please call the station. Here's my direct line."
Kieran took the card, turned it briefly between his fingers, and read it carefully.
"Of course," he said finally, slipping it into the breast pocket of his apron. "I will."
Then he looked back up at them.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Sebastian opened his mouth, but Benedict spoke first.
"Two coffees to go would be good."
Sebastian shot him a brief sideways glance.
Kieran smiled.
"Coming right up."
He turned toward the espresso machine. The quiet hiss of steam filled the room for a moment as he worked with practiced ease.
Everything seemed completely normal.
And yet the thought of Isaac wouldn't leave him alone.
Sebastian leaned slightly toward him and spoke quietly enough that Kieran couldn't hear.
"What are you thinking about? Disappointed he's not here?"
Benedict nodded slowly.
"Because he has the day off?"
Benedict didn't answer right away.
His gaze remained fixed on the coffee machine while Kieran filled the cups.
"Isaac isn't the type for spontaneous days off," he finally said quietly.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"And you know that so well because…?"
Benedict shrugged.
"Because he's here every morning. Always at the same time."
"People can change their habits."
"Yes," Benedict said calmly. "They can."
Kieran placed two cups on the counter.
"Here you go."
Sebastian picked up his coffee.
"Thanks."
Benedict did the same. The warmth of the cup in his hands was pleasant.
As they turned toward the door, Benedict paused for a moment.
"If Isaac calls or stops by today," he said, "please tell him I was here."
Kieran nodded politely.
"I will."
The bell above the door rang again as they left the café.
Outside, the air was cool. Sebastian took a sip of his coffee and grimaced slightly.
"Damn, that's hot."
Benedict stared down the street.
"You think he's somehow involved in this," Sebastian said after a moment.
It wasn't a question.
Benedict slowly shook his head.
"I don't know. But this case is more than strange," Benedict said and finally sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm just worried about him."
"Why don't you call him?" Sebastian suggested. "We could also drive over to his place."
Benedict exhaled slowly.
"I'll text him first," he said, beginning to type a message to Isaac on his phone.
___
By the afternoon, they finally reached the precinct, exhausted.
The day had felt endless. They had canvassed the entire neighborhood—every shop, every apartment, every office around the alley. But the results were discouraging.
No one had seen who had entered the alley. No one knew how many people it had been. And of course, no one had seen how at least two severely injured—or perhaps even dead—people had been taken out again.
Benedict wasn't sure whether the residents had truly noticed nothing, or if they simply didn't want to say anything. In this part of the city, silence was often a form of self-protection. Especially since the city was still in the greedy hands of various clans, and they still hadn't managed to smoke out every rat hole.
No matter how many criminals they arrested, the leadership always managed to evade capture, and so the clans continued to survive.
But that didn't help them now.
On the way back to the precinct, another thought had also refused to leave his mind.
Isaac.
He had sent him a message earlier that morning. A simple, harmless question asking if everything was alright.
No reply.
Normally, Isaac answered fairly quickly, even when he was busy. Not this time. Perhaps he was completely absorbed in his work. When he was working on a new painting, he could forget everything around him for hours.
Or…
Benedict pushed the thought away immediately.
Still, he decided he would stop by after work. Maybe he would pick up something to eat first. That would give him an excuse to sit down with him for a while and talk.
He hated it when his gut feeling refused to quiet down.
Back at the precinct, Benedict went into his office and began packing up his bag. The day had been long enough.
Just as he closed the zipper, the door flew open.
Jasper stood in the doorway.
"I want everyone assigned to the Phantom Thief cases in the briefing room immediately," he barked. "Anyone who leaves can expect consequences."
Benedict straightened at once.
"Are there new findings?" he asked, surprised, as he followed Jasper toward the briefing room.
Jasper nodded grimly. Without saying a word, he held out his tablet to Benedict.
"The blood samples from your alley case this morning have been analyzed," he explained. "I ordered a fast-track procedure so we could compare them with our databases immediately."
Benedict took the tablet and stared at the report. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he slowly raised his eyes.
"The analysis matches the blood sample from the museum," he said, stunned.
Jasper nodded grimly.
"Seems our dear Moonshadow had some fun in that alley."
Benedict's thoughts raced.
Moonshadow. The damn phantom thief who had been slipping through their fingers for months.
"Which blood was his?" Benedict finally asked.
Jasper crossed his arms.
"The bullet you found in the wall," he replied. "We were able to clearly identify his DNA on it."
He tapped another file on the tablet.
"We also isolated several traces on the ground that belong to him."
Benedict flipped through the analysis reports.
"There were four people in total," Jasper continued. "Three of them are known in the database. Members of the Viper Syndicate."
The name made Benedict look up.
The Viper Syndicate wasn't some small street gang. It was one of the more aggressive criminal organizations in the city—specializing in smuggling, arms trafficking, and illegal sex trade. They were the textbook example of gangsters.
So Moonshadow had been shot.
"But why would the phantom thief have been there?" Benedict wondered aloud. "Why that alley of all places?"
Jasper snorted impatiently.
"Maybe they tried to recruit him and he didn't like the terms," he muttered. "Whatever he was doing there, we're checking every camera around the alley."
A triumphant grin spread across his face.
"Be glad. We've got him on tape."
Benedict blinked in surprise.
"You're kidding." Then a grin slowly spread across his own face. "Show me the footage."
Jasper tapped a few times on the tablet and handed it back to him.
Benedict started the video.
The recording clearly came from a surveillance camera mounted at a street corner. The image was grainy, slightly overexposed, and the angle unfavorable—but the scene was still clear enough to make out.
A black delivery van without license plates was visible. A man wearing gloves and a hooded coat was throwing lifeless bodies into it. Benedict felt his focus sharpen.
Then a second person stepped into frame.
The man wore a dark hoodie, the hood pulled low over his face. His features were barely visible—only the lower part of his chin and a bit of his mouth.
But the build…
Something about it seemed vaguely familiar to Benedict. There were not many people who came to mind at that sight. Involuntarily, he thought of the irritating phantom thief.
Moonshadow.
The figure moved cautiously. When he stepped forward, it became clear why. He was limping. The left side of his jeans was darkly soaked—blood. A makeshift pressure bandage was tightly wrapped around his thigh.
Benedict immediately remembered the ballistic analysis.
Thigh height.
Sebastian had been right.
Moonshadow also grabbed one of the bodies and helped lift it into the van. Despite the injury, he worked quickly and efficiently. In less than five minutes, they had loaded all three bodies into the vehicle.
Then the man in the coat slid the door shut, jumped into the driver's seat, and the delivery van disappeared from the frame.
The video ended.
Unfortunately, the resolution was too poor to make out faces or further details. Benedict slowly handed the tablet back. Still, he had the feeling that they finally had a real lead.
A damn good one, at that.
"The profilers are already working on it," Jasper said. "I hope we'll have more results to work with by tomorrow."
Benedict crossed his arms and looked once more at the frozen image on the tablet.
A crooked grin spread across his face.
"Damn," he muttered. "Let's see how far he gets with that wound."
Jasper let out a rough laugh and clapped him firmly on the shoulder before pulling him slightly closer.
"About time we had a little luck on our side!"
Benedict nodded, but his thoughts were already drifting again.
Moonshadow was injured.
Isaac had taken spontaneous leave today and wasn't responding to his messages.
Benedict felt his gut instinct stirring once more.
This time, much stronger.
However, he said nothing to Jasper about his thoughts. He would go visit Isaac and see the situation for himself.