The rain in Northern California didn't wash things clean; it just made the blood run slower.
Detective Julian Vance stared at the glass of scotch resting on the edge of the crime scene table. It wasn't his glass. It belonged to Arthur Sterling, a high-profile defense attorney whose body was currently slumped in the leather armchair three feet away. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. Just a single bullet hole centered neatly between his brows, and a playing card—the Queen of Spades—tucked into his suit pocket.
Vance pulled his coat tighter. He knew Sterling. In fact, Sterling had spent the last five years putting violent criminals back on the street using technicalities in the law. Half the city wanted him dead, including most of the precinct.
"Any shell casings?" Vance asked, his voice low.
Officer Miller shook his head. "Clean sweep, Detective. Security cameras were wiped precisely three minutes before the estimated time of death. Whoever did this had the master codes."
Vance knelt beside the body. He noticed a faint smell—not cordite, but sweet vanilla and wet ash. It was a distinctive tobacco blend. Only one person he knew smoked that specific mix, and that man was currently serving a life sentence in Pelican Bay.
Before Vance could process the thought, his phone vibrated in his pocket. An encrypted text message flashed on the screen from an unknown number:
“He bought their freedom, Vance. I’m just collecting the interest. One down, four to go.”
Vance looked back at the body, then at the Queen of Spades. This wasn't a random hit. It was an execution list, and the killer was inviting Vance to watch the show.