"So, what do you think?" A voice echoed through the now yellow-taped-off alley.
"I think he got his skull fucking bashed in," said the man the earlier voice had been addressing. Smoke from the cigarette in his left hand drifted through the damp air as the two men stood over the body.
"A swing? Maybe two? CSI says blunt object. Didn't need them to tell me that." The younger detective adjusted the black tactical vest with CCPD stamped across the chest before folding his arms.
"Now who kills a bank robber during his escape? You think one of his buddies caught up with him? Some deal-gone-wrong type situation?"
The older detective scratched at his stubble before taking another drag.
"Guy robs a bank, gets into a scuffle with responding officers during the chase, then ends up dead in an alley a couple of blocks west with his skull crushed." He exhaled slowly. "Hell of a city."
The surveillance drones droned overhead.
"Rogue awakener?" the younger detective suggested. "A strength-type Manifestation could cave a skull in."
"Maybe." The older detective flicked the cigarette into a nearby dumpster before pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He crouched beside the body, picking up the pistol lying a few steps away.
"But if he ran into an awakener, you'd expect him to fire at least once before getting hit. Magazine's still full."
The younger detective nodded.
"Stolen cash was still here when first response arrived too, so I'd rule out an opportunistic thief."
The older detective glanced up.
"Money's untouched?"
"Every dollar."
"And the gun's still loaded?"
"Didn't fire a single round."
The older detective stared back at the corpse for a long moment before letting out a tired sigh.
"So why the fuck is he dead?" He stood up slowly, peeling one glove halfway off. "I'm supposed to clock out in two hours. I don't need this shit landing on my desk."
The younger detective gave a helpless shrug.
"I wish I had an answer."
"Get anything useful from the city cams?" the older detective asked, glancing toward one of the surveillance drones hovering above the alley.
"Rain killed half the footage. Everything we did recover cuts out before he entered this alley."
"So we've got a dead bank robber, no witnesses, and no footage."
"Pretty much."
The older detective clicked his tongue.
"Anything from the hero assigned to the chase?"
The younger detective looked less than impressed.
"Nothing conclusive. Just spouted a load of bull about losing sight of the suspect because of the weather, then went along his merry way."
"Really convenient."
The older detective stripped off the second glove and tossed both into the dumpster beside the cigarette.
"Don't know why we need them on police investigations."
He rubbed his reddened eyes, the skin around them irritated from too many cigarettes and too little sleep.
"I still don't know why City Hall thought putting heroes on police cases was a good idea. Half of them treat an investigation like it's another interview."
The younger detective smiled awkwardly.
"Careful, boss. Somebody might hear you."
"I hope they do."
The younger detective laughed.
"You really don't like heroes."
"I don't like people who answer to cameras before they answer to the law."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Rainwater continued dripping from the fire escapes overhead, collecting in shallow puddles around the yellow evidence markers.
The older detective's eyes wandered across the alley one last time.
"No shell casings."
"No."
"No signs somebody searched the body."
"No."
"No missing money."
"No."
He frowned.
"The whole thing stinks."
The younger detective followed his gaze.
"You think whoever did this panicked?"
"Maybe."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm not."
The older detective shoved both hands into his jacket pockets.
"Think about it. If somebody wanted the money, they would've taken the money. If somebody wanted revenge, they would've emptied the magazine into him and called it a day."
"So what happened?"
"I don't know." He looked back toward the crushed side of the robber's head. "But whatever happened, it happened fast."
The younger detective shifted his weight.
"You think he surprised someone?"
"Could've."
"A civilian?"
"Could've."
The younger detective frowned.
"That's one hell of a swing for an ordinary civilian."
The older detective shrugged.
"You'd be surprised what terrified people are capable of."
"You really think fear can do..." He gestured toward the corpse. "...that?"
"I've been doing this twenty-three years."
The older detective's voice had lost its irritation.
"I've seen a grandmother stab a grown man with a kitchen knife because he broke into her house. I've seen a cashier beat a guy unconscious with a fire extinguisher. You corner somebody hard enough, eventually instinct takes over."
"So you think he cornered the wrong person."
"I think somebody believed they were about to die."
The younger detective looked down at the loaded pistol.
"...And got lucky."
The older detective shook his head.
"I wouldn't call living with this lucky."
The younger detective glanced at him.
"You think whoever did it is sitting at home right now?"
"If they're a civilian?" The older detective gave a dry laugh. "They're probably throwing up in their bathroom wondering what the hell just happened."
Silence settled between them again.
One of the drones descended slightly before continuing its slow patrol across the alley.
The younger detective finally checked his watch.
"So... are we done here?"
"Yeah."
The older detective gave the body one last look.
"Nothing else here. We'll piece it together back at the precinct. Tell cleanup they're clear."
He walked toward the cruiser and opened the passenger-side door before pausing.
"You're driving."
The younger detective blinked.
"Again?"
"You complained last time too."
"That's because your driving scares me less than mine."
"You'll survive."
The younger detective sighed dramatically before climbing behind the wheel.
The engine rumbled to life.
Neither of them spoke for the first few blocks.
Rain tapped steadily against the windshield while the wipers swept back and forth with a dull rhythm.
The younger detective finally broke the silence.
"One thing still bothers me."
The older detective leaned against the window.
"Only one?"
The younger detective ignored him.
"The money was untouched. The gun was untouched. Whoever killed him wasn't trying to rob him."
"Mhm."
"So why kill him?"
The older detective watched the rain race across the glass.
"Maybe because he got in somebody's way."
"You really think that's enough?"
"If the other person thought they were about to die?"
He shrugged.
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
The younger detective didn't answer.
The cruiser rolled through another intersection before the older detective spoke again.
"Get the lab to keep looking for trace evidence."
"They already are."
"No, I mean everything."
The younger detective glanced over.
"Everything?"
"Dust. Fibers. Paint chips. Concrete. I don't care if they find half a grain of sand." He rubbed at his temples. "Whatever cracked that skull left something behind."
"You think the murder weapon's still out there?"
"If the killer panicked, they probably dumped it."
"And if they didn't?"
The older detective looked out at the city passing by.
"Then they're stupid enough to still have it."
The younger detective nodded slowly.
"I'll tell the lab."
The cruiser disappeared into the evening traffic as another CCPD vehicle pulled into the alley behind them, its flashing lights reflecting across the wet pavement.