Tori and Javi stared at the knife resting on the counter, teetering innocuously. The two of them shared a quick glance, frowning. Tori approached cautiously, taking a photo of the knife with her phone.
"Coincidence?" Javi murmured behind her.
She shook her head. "Don't know... seems almost... too obvious."
She frowned at the knife. It wasn't quite a scalpel, nor was it a kitchen knife. She supposed in the healthcare office, there would've been plenty of uses for the item.
After taking two more pictures at different angles of the knife, she moved further into the cramped space, frowning at the floor.
Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, piercing the gloom of the abandoned healthcare center. Tori stood still for a moment, letting the silence wash over her, the only sound the occasional creak and groan of the unsettled structure.
A strip of tape was a stark contrast against the gray, dust-covered floor—a silent sentinel marking the tragedy that had occurred. Tori's boots paused inches from it, her body rigid as she took in the sight. It had been two months since Emily Torres's lifeless form had lain there, yet to Tori, it felt like a wound freshly inflicted upon the fabric of reality.
There was something off about it all. A tickle at the back of her mind, a whisper that refused to be silenced. The tape formed a crude outline, but it was not its presence that captured Tori's thoughts. It was the absence - the lack of disturbance in the rubble around it, too clean, too orderly amidst the surrounding chaos. Her heart clenched; the official cause of death—blunt trauma during the quake... If that was true... how come rubble had only fallen on Emily? Tori glanced up where the ceiling had been reinforced in the condemned building. No missing concrete. No ceiling joist that might have tumbled. So what had crushed Emily Torres?
The mystery hung heavy in the air as Tori's mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of Emily Torres's death. She moved closer to the outline on the floor, her eyes scanning every detail, every inch of the tape marking where Emily's body had been found. There was no logical explanation for why only Emily had been struck by falling debris in a building that seemed relatively intact.
It didn't sit right. She trusted her instincts more than most might suggest. But in her time with FEMA, responding to emergencies, and with the FBI, she'd become certain that some things were simply unexplainable without a big dose of instinct.
Tori rose to her feet, her jaw set with resolve. "This wasn't an accident, Javi. Someone wanted Emily dead and made it look like she was a casualty of the earthquake."
Javi's eyes widened in realization. "But why? Who would benefit from her death?"
Tori's expression darkened as she glanced back at the tape outline on the floor. "I don't know yet, but we need to find out. There's more to this than meets the eye."
She pulled her phone from her pocket, pulling out images taken of the initial scene, looking for photos of the body upon discovery:
Tori's fingers swiped through the images on her phone, searching for the pictures from the day they found Emily Torres. As she scrolled past each photo, her heart sank deeper with every image that failed to provide any new insight. Javi watched her closely, concern etched in his features as he waited for her to find something that could unravel the mystery.
And then, there it was - a picture of Emily lying on the ground, the dust settling around her like a shroud. Tori zoomed in, studying every detail of the scene. There was something... a glint of metal caught her eye. She enlarged the photo, focusing on a small object nestled in the debris near Emily's outstretched hand. A metal pipe. She frowned, turning and scanning the ground while lowering her phone. No pipe.
But there was a metal shelf in the corner of the room with wire racks that matched.
The shelf was now chained to the wall.
Had this fallen? The chain looked new.
"Was there anything in the report about that shelf?" Tori asked.
"Don't think so."
"What does it say caused Emily's death."
"Unspecific. Just states blunt force trauma. What are you thinking?"
Tori wrinkled her nose, straightening. "I'm wondering who was first on scene. Who filed the report."
She placed a call, raising her phone as Javi watched.
Tori's thumb hovered over the screen, the pulsing red 'end call' button a glaring beacon of her impatience. The phone pressed against her ear emitted a series of hollow, echoing tones, each one stretching longer than the last in the silence of the abandoned healthcare center. Dust motes danced in a stray shaft of light that fought its way through the broken ceiling, casting an eerie glow on the desolation around her.
"Come on, come on," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible above the faint ringing in her ear.
Then, the line clicked. "Police Department, how can I help you?" came the crisp, professional voice on the other end.
"Hi, this is Agent Spark. I'm calling about the Emily Torres case. I need to know who filed the original report—the first officer on the scene," Tori said, her tone deliberately even, concealing the pounding of her heart.
There was a brief pause, during which Tori could hear the faint tapping of computer keys. She pictured the officer on the other end, ensconced in the relative safety of their office, unaware that they were providing a possibly critical clue to a mystery that had burrowed itself deep into the fabric of their town.
"Let me see... that would be Officer Glen Whitmore," the voice returned, the name sliding into Tori's consciousness with the weight of a leaden seal.
"Glen Whitmore," Tori repeated softly, etching the name into her memory.
"Is there anything else I can assist you with, Agent Spark?" the officer asked, unknowingly interrupting her internal mantra.
"No, that's all for now. "Thank you," Tori replied curtly, her mind already spinning with the implications of this new information. She ended the call and stared out over the desolate remains of the healthcare center. The name 'Glen Whitmore' reverberated in her head like a warning bell.
Tori's fingers drummed against the side of her thigh, a rhythmic counterpoint to the thrumming in her veins. The sun had started its descent, throwing long shadows across the cracked tiles as she strode purposefully toward the exit. Dust particles danced in the air, disturbed by her determined passage; they were the only witnesses to her deepening resolve.
"Tori?" Javi asked after her.
She was so focused, she'd almost forgotten he was there. "Heard of anyone named Glen Whitmore?"
"No. That the cop?"
"Mhmm."
"You think his report was intentionally off?"
"Missing details. Vague information," she countered. "But..." She frowned. "He wouldn't have been able to tamper with the seismic reports..."
"That would've been town hall," Javi supplied.
She stopped just short of stepping outside, the ambient noise of the decaying building giving way to a sudden hush. Tori reached into the pocket of her weathered leather jacket, her hand closing around the cool surface of her phone. Her thumb moved with practiced ease, scrolling through the municipalities resources until she found the town hall. She pressed call.
"Records Department, how may I help you?" The voice was crisp and professional, betraying nothing of the person behind it.
"Hi, my name is Tori," she began, keeping her tone even despite the urgency coursing through her. "I'm looking into the earthquake from two months ago and need to verify some information regarding the evidence logs. Can you tell me who recorded the seismic activity that day?"
There was a pause, the brief silence stretching out like an accusatory finger. Then the click of a keyboard sounded through the line, a prelude to answers Tori knew she needed.
"Let me see... Ah, yes," the voice answered, returning with a hint of disinterest that did nothing to curb Tori's anticipation. "The information was provided to us by Disaster Response unit based in Salinas. The evidence was logged by one of our employees, Cathy Whitmore."
Cathy Whitmore. The name fell into place with an almost audible click, aligning itself next to Glen Whitmore in Tori's mental file of suspects. Two Whitmores involved in two separate yet interlocking pieces of this puzzle.
"Thank you," Tori said, her words steady while her mind churned with the implications of this new discovery. "That's exactly what I needed."
She ended the call, the screen of her phone reflecting a face marked by years of searching for truths that others preferred to keep buried. Cathy Whitmore had logged the evidence of the earthquake, and Glen Whitmore had logged the case report for Emily Torres's death. The connection was too strong to be mere coincidence, and Tori could feel the edges of the web that had ensnared Emily—and perhaps Sarah as well—beginning to quiver under her touch.
As she gazed out over the skeletal remains of the healthcare center, Tori's jaw set firm. The Whitmores had questions to answer.