The Havenport Files: Book One

Day 3

Time: 6:15

Rays of sunlight reflect from my window to the most inconvenient spot in the whole room; it could land itself on the wooden floor, shining light on the scratch marks of Pirate's paws, or even better, it could go in the opposite direction and fall on the door, but no, the little things make sure to fall upon my closed eyelids, shining through them brightly and forcing me to decide between either turning around and allowing myself a nap of more five minutes—or maybe even twenty—or brave my laziness and get ready to work with the chance of maybe getting in the station a little earlier—but for what reason, I don't know; there aren't many things to do there this early.

As I ponder my decision, opening one blurry eye to look for my alarm clock, a warm, wet tongue catches me by surprise as it travels its way from my cheek to my closed right eye, jolting me to full awakeness instantly; swinging my arms to push the perpetrator away for a moment, the covers slip off me and reveal how cold today seems to be, despite the bright sun outside; nothing worse than the day before yesterday, but still discouraging enough on its own merit.

Looking around, I half expect to find Mel somewhere in the room, putting on her shoes awkwardly fast so she can wake me up to get a ride to the station; my ears premeditate a laugh that never comes, and so, seeing that she doesn't seem to be around, I turn to the clearly happy furball and see the sneaky bastard breathing rapidly as it wags its tail, seemingly waiting for me to wake up and give him some attention.

Noticing that it is best to tend to his needs before I get attacked again, I reach a tired hand up and let gravity place it atop his head as I use the least energy possible so I can pet the fluffy head of Pirate and still focus on gathering some courage to get up; he, in return, lolls his tongue out and growls happily.

At this time he should be comfortably sleeping with Mel in her room, and my door should be closed shut to avoid this same situation; usually, when something like this happens, it means Mel most likely got out earlier than me because of Ed; to confirm my suspicion, I guide my gaze to the door knob and find Pirate's leash hanging there, which instantly reminds me of what I was asked to do the day prior.

Of course, right now won't be the time I'll walk him around; I still have to get to the station, work a bit, and if today's movement is slow enough, I can use my lunch time to do that.

Having rekindled some of the last spurts of energy I needed, my body is pushed up by my now firm hands, positioning me on the edge of the bed, sitting down and staring at my boots on the ground, as well as my clothes from yesterday, only missing my underwear and my shirt, both that I used as nightwear in my rush to sleep.

Pirate, noticing my motions and understanding that they indicate I'm about to prepare to go out, gets up as well and jumps down the bed, dashing to the corridor and stopping there, like a guard, waiting for me to follow as he barks once to grab my attention and let clear his intentions—the intention of having his food bowl filled at once.

With my feet well positioned on the floor so I won't step on the dirty clothes, and with the tasks of today in mind, I leave my room and start descending the stairs to feed the hungry dog, take a good bath to scrub the filthy of yesterday's away from my body—and with some luck, from my mind too—and get some adequate clothes to work, preferably ones that don't smell like something from after a workout. I spend about ten minutes doing the tasks before driving to work, and assuring to Pirate that I'll come to pick him up later.

On the parking lot of the station, there's a certain ghostliness as I find a place that should be crawling with old, motionless patrol cars in serious need of a good scrub, but instead, what I see is none of that; my car is the only one who takes one of the empty spaces to rest its tires.

The wind, without any regard for anything, passes by me like it has somewhere to be as I crawl out of inside my car, reminding me that, unfortunately, the winter still has some sort of pleasure in making me shiver.

With a sneeze escaping my nose suddenly, I instinctively shove my hands as deep as they can nestle inside the pockets of my cozy overcoat, and I keep my head down as I move forward, searching for any sign of a cool motorcycle or a black SUV that truly seems to be nowhere around as well. When I find myself a meter away from the wooden entrance, I open my palm and push the door open hurriedly, entering the station.

A comfortable warmth, challenging the outside's sharp coldness, permeates the building dearly and reaches me with an embrace akin to that of a longing family member at a cousin's birthday party. I spend a blissful minute soaking in the feeling before the hint of a pair of eyes locked on my face pulls my strings, bringing me back to reality.

I'm forced to begin searching for the owner of the gaze, and of course, I find it belongs to none other than Anja. The girl, sipping a mug of something clearly warm with the station's logo stamped on it, opens her mouth to address me.

"Oh, good morning, detective." Nonchalantly, the young girl sips the drink swirling around the mug and closes her eyes briefly, nodding her head once in a welcoming gesture.

From the look on her face, it is easy to notice that she isn't a bit happy to be awake at this hour, and by the smell, I can tell that the tea she seems to be drinking won't help much in that department, as it is easy to tell that what she's drinking is chamomile tea; the smell is not one unfamiliar to me.

"Morning, Anja; have you maybe seen Officer Melissa around? She left home early today and didn't leave any messages."

The girl, opening her heavy eyes, thinks for a brief moment to fully process my question before leaning heavier on her office chair, almost laying on it by how it bends to accommodate her needs.

"There were a lot of people here about thirty minutes ago, mostly officers; they are gone by now. I caught one of them saying something about places to park and the commercial hub. I think it has to do with the orders from the old man—the captain, sergeant, or whatever—I'm almost sure I saw your sister's hair peaking from her desk at some point, but I don't know where she went in the city if that's what you want to know."

"Thank you, that helps; I just wanted to be sure she came by the station." As I finish talking and prepare to move to the office area, I notice that there isn't just tiredness on the girl's face but also a certain disgust, which seems to happen every time she brings the mug to her lips and forcefully gulps down the tea. "I can tell by your face that you're not really a tea fan, huh? So why are you forcing yourself to drink it? If it is to be awake, I'm afraid to tell you that the type you're drinking will do the opposite thing to you."

Anja, placing the mug back down on her table, shakes her head once; her arms cross themselves in an unthought movement, helping to accommodate her tired body.

"I know that, but with the coffee machine broken again, there was nothing to drink but this, and thanks to my real mom, this tea is the only thing I know how to make that doesn't taste like vomit. I still don't get how she can drink this horrible, diabolic thing every day without making a face; this thing, it's straight up gross."

As the warmth of the station starts to set in my body, adjusting my temperature the longer I stay here, the need for me to keep the overcoat on goes away, so as I talk, my hands focus on taking it off.

"These things grow on you with time; for example, I didn't like coffee growing up; actually, I hated it, but when I started working on the station, the need for caffeine made me start to enjoy a cup or two. What I'm saying is that maybe you'll start to like it with time, but you need to choose the right ones for the job."

"I prefer if I didn't; tea is just not for me. Believe me, I tried many flavors many times before, and every time it was the same. It is just drinking grass with hot water, and sometimes that grass can be colored." Her answer is a good one, and by it I find myself opening a small smile on my lips.

Soon enough, a silence falls between us that tells me it is time to move forward, yet something pushes me to solve one last thing.

"Before I go to my office and forget, can you do me a favor and call the repair girl here tomorrow morning? I think that with everyone on the edge, they'll need to, at least, have some coffee when they need it; you included."

The girl nods her head, uncrosses her arms, and reaches for the phone tucked in her jeans pocket before pulling it out and unlocking the screen. "I'll send her a message now, and when she messages back, who do I talk to? You or the boss?"

"The boss; Ed will need to know so he can use the emergency fund to cover the repair." Every day I remember about the emergency funds, I pray; if it wasn't for it, it would probably be my salary going to fix the thing.

As someone who spends too little time on my phone, it is impressive to see how fast she messages the repair girl and puts it back down on the table; however, with that taken care of, I get my focus back to work and start to talk while walking to my office.

"Thank you; if anything happens, you can knock on my office."

The girl gives me a thumbs up in response before eagerly returning her eyes to the state they were before, closed and relaxed; with that done, I walk past the empty office area, one step at a time.

As I reach for my office door, I stop for a moment, contemplating the option to check if Astero is hiding somewhere in his lab and maybe discussing the case some more with him, but remembering how much we are milking his mind lately, I decide to instead work on taking the sticky notes off my door and reorganizing them in the wall.

The time that goes by as I move carefully across my office room is not registered by my mind; instead, it focuses exclusively on getting the original order of the sticky notes right—so I don't misplace any information on the wall—avoiding losing any time on having to create a timeline again and again in a full circle. Even so, the wall clock that ticks without end atop the wall doesn't lose its grip on that concept, so it serves its purpose, telling me with its hands that the seventh hour approaches.

A new understanding of the time I have left down on me, pressing me into putting the last of the sticky notes in their places.

I take a step back to look at the wall from afar, seeing all the pieces of information well displayed in their right places, not only that, but when I guide my eyes a little to the left, three shadows decorate the blinds in the window, all easy to recognize by their shapes, and one of them stops in front of the door and extends their hand, ready to knock on it, but before they can, I step further back until I'm sitting at my table and I talk.

"Come in; the door isn't locked."

The yell leaves me, as I use the few seconds I have to organize the wrappers of yesterday's food in a big, compressed ball that I'm quick to throw into the trashcan beside my table, only to miss completely on the attempt.

With the permission granted, Agent Dalia pushes the door open and focuses, of all places in the room, her eyes on me, casting on her lips a simple, benign smile; being the first one to get inside, she walks composedly towards the chair near me and pulls it back.

"Good morning, Detective; I'm sorry if we caught you in an early hour." The woman sits on the chair, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her lap, one atop the other—classy.

Coming right after her, Agent Yui steps inside the room with minimal presence, unlike yesterday; they nestle their hands in their flannel shirt pockets, hidden away from view. Clearly carrying around a sleepy expression on their face that does not for long.

First, they bring one hand out of their pockets and wave at me, and then, out of nowhere, they brighten up at the sight of something on the edge of the office, and when I look curiously to see what it is that got that reaction out of them, I only find my sofa.

They seem to prepare to spring forward and throw themselves at the cozy furniture by how they position their legs, except that one single gloved hand grabbing them by the collar—like how one grabs a cat—stops the action mid-way through, leaving the agent with a sour face and with their feet off the floor; the owner of the gloved hand, Agent Colette, without ceremony, gets inside and closes the door right behind her with her free hand.

"Don't." She orders, knowing the agent's intentions even before they show more than one sign; by the face she makes, this isn't uncommon to happen, or at least that is what I get.

"Hey, the sofa is not yours, so let go of me; besides, the detective doesn't mind me using it, right?" They look at me with puppy eyes, the same eyes that they hardly manage to keep while trying to push the other agent off, but the wall of a woman stays, unmoving, even with the relentless struggle against her. "Look, I really need more five to operate properly; don't everyone want me to do my job at all my capacity? Because if the answer is yes, this is the way."

"You seem awoken enough to formulate such lies." Agent Colette points out promptly, and everyone seems to know she got a point; by the way that Agent Yui fights off her grip, they seem to be pooling with energy and not lacking it.

I look at Dalia without knowing what to say, and I notice how she ignores the scene for as much as she can before turning around on the chair and giving both agents a stern look. "Colette, please put Yui down; don't you two forget that a display like this will give the wrong idea about our professionalism to the detective." The woman, ashamed, looks at me with an abashed smile. "I'm sorry you had to see this side of ours, Detective; unfortunately, this is something that challenges my control."

Her words seem to get through the woman, who lowers the agent to the ground, yet there's a moment where she shoots her eyes at me, awaiting something; assuming that she wants me to speak as well, I open my mouth to do just that.

Adjusting my posture and placing a smile on my lips, I nod my head to Agent Colette. "I don't mind if they take the sofa; I mean, it is pretty comfortable, and as they said, we need to all work on our one hundred percent if we want to get anywhere."

As I finish my words, a vibration from my pocket steals my attention from them for a moment, urging me to check the phone that rests on it; meanwhile, Agent Yui, savoring the freedom granted by the final loose on the grip keeping them in place, turns around and sticks their tongue out to Agent Colette before rushing to the sofa and falling onto it; a moan leaves their pale lips as, like a cat, they stretch up their body as much as possible before letting go of all tension and relaxing.

"Thank you, detective; it will... only be... a minute..."

In record time, they fall asleep, skipping all the normal rituals of pretending to be asleep so the body does so; a snort soon escapes their slightly parted lips, indicating they are out for real.

The screen of my phone shines, indicating that I got a new message, and atop the notification, a name stands out, one that brings a certain feeling of both fear for where it got me last time and a sort of excitement, as Alexandrina wouldn't reach me for an invitation to drink something; no, she would instead tell me something that relates to the case in hand.

Unlocking it and getting into the messaging app, I am able to read the text: 'I hope I'm not waking you up like last time, Detective, but I got a feeling you would appreciate being the first to know about this. A friend of mine who works at the warehouse on the harbor, one of the security guards, called in just now to tell me an interesting story, something I think you would prefer to hear from his mouth; just go there and find a man named Pete; call him Skinny, and he will now you're a friend. He might just have found the car you're looking for.'

I go quiet for a long moment, losing myself in my own head; questions bubble from the depths of my mind.

One more missing piece was found to join the board, and for some reason, I don't feel so good about it; I guess having to rely on others is something that I don't like much, even more when I think that it is my job to figure out this type of stuff. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do but continue doing this, waiting for more information to arrive on the surface so I can paint a clear picture of the events.

My memories of how Detective Reele operated are foggy; he wasn't one to talk about his cases with, well, anyone, so if he had help from Alexandrina or someone else in the investigations he conducted, that is a mystery I don't think I'll be able to solve. This matters not; if I think anymore, I'll deviate from the thing on which I should be focusing right now.

Abruptly—snapping me away from the thinking cycle—a soft, tender touch on my knee sends an alert up my body, almost making me jump if not for my quick recognition from whom it belongs. Agent Dalia, with concern pouring from her eyes as well as a hint of curiosity, studies my face.

"Detective, are you feeling well? You were gone, far away, for a moment after you checked your phone; by your face, I assume the contents you received are concerning news." Keeping a silkiness to her tone, she withdraws her hand from my knee and only awaits an explanation.

I gather some air in my lungs, feeling exactly as she described; amidst my thoughts, an expression crawled from the ocean waters to the sands; the muscles in my face form a deep frown, one that isn't uncommon to happen when I enter this mode of mine. Many times before I received this same reaction from people, so with the knowledge of how to deal with it, I turn my frown upside down before talking.

"Yes and no; to your first questions, I am fine; I just—sometimes—lose myself in my own head too much; please pay no attention to it. And to the other one; the news I received is good, a... well, not exactly a friend more than an informant of sorts—the trustworthy contact I mentioned yesterday—reached out to me; she has a contact with one of the security guards from the warehouses on the harbor, and it seems someone has information on the car we are looking for."

Agent Colette this time steps forward, closer to my table; her eyes analyze me for what feels like an eternity before nodding her head reluctantly.

"What are your orders?"

"Excuse me?" To her question, I can only blink to not lose my composure; instead of ordering me around like yesterday, she is asking for me to give the orders; this seems more uncanny than the empty parking lot of the station did this morning. "I think I didn't get what you said, agent, truly."

The woman crosses her arms, and after the silence stretches enough, I get that she is refusing to repeat her words; the worst part is that I can't tell if I'll piss her off if I try to order her or if she wants me to do it. Luckily, Agent Dalia comes to my rescue before I make a decision.

"Detective, we were sent here to help you on your investigation, not to command it; I conclude that Agent Colette has finally come to this understanding. We move as you order; if you want to investigate the story from your source, we will gladly join you."

I take one last look at the woman's face, seeing that even if the other agent's words anger her slightly, they seem to be coated in the truth; that helps me calm down. Seeing that the conversation with Agent Colette yesterday is already bearing fruit is reassuring for sure.

Being in charge is a new feeling to me, an exhilarating one, and yet it brings a weight to my shoulders that for now feels fine, but I'm sure soon will grow enough to bring me to my knees; I can only hope that it will not happen soon.

"Okay, I understand now. The hard reality of our situation is that this case's pieces are all scattered around the city instead of being in one place; some have flown away from the board. One thing I learned from being an officer for some time is that tough situations require us to be more open to new methods. Checking this source can be a loss of time, sure, but too, it is our only lead, so in the worst-case scenario we will lose an hour driving; I say we check it out just to be sure."

"If you believe this can be of interest to us, detective, then I do as well." Agent Dalia, pushing herself away from the chair and to her feet, adjusts her trousers and her vest; she turns to Agent Colette and nods her head. "Please wake up Yui calmly this time; I'm sure they would appreciate some gentleness instead of aggression."

"That was my gentleness."

The woman responds before walking to her meeting with the other agent's sleeping body; their face is so peaceful and childlike in their sleep that I think anyone would have a hard time finding the strength to interrupt their rest, but apparently, that is not true to Agent Colette, who, without mercy, grabs their flannel shirt and pulls them away swiftly from the sofa and to their feet; she does it so easily in fact that for a moment I start believing that she must have some serious muscles under that overcoat.

"Ugh, what the fuck do you want, huh?" Sleepy, the agent forces one eye open, not even managing to fully do it before massaging their own face to awaken the still sleeping muscles; little by little they manage to push sleepiness away, but not without a clear expression of anger to the woman. "I asked for a five; what the hell happened with what we talked about?"

"Your minutes are over; we are going out." Using one of her gloved hands, the woman pushes the agent in front of us and out of the door; the empty office area, which for some hours has been devoid of life, is filled with groans and swears as they both walk to the exit.

I, to not stay behind, get up and unwrinkle my coat before noticing the remaining agent's eyes on me; when she sees I caught her stare, she only smiles and gestures towards the door.

"Shall we go? I can give you a ride if you wish to not waste gas; besides, I believe that it is best for everyone if the unit stays all together."

"I..." Stopping to think about her request, I see not one good reason to refuse; I spare the money to fill my car's tank and can get closer to the unit at the same time. I'm sure this would be better for everyone, not only me. "I'll take you up on your offer, yes; thank you."

"Please, there is no need to thank me, detective." It is so strange how she can smile so much—be this gentle; if it is a mask, it is a hell of a good one. "Now, shall we?"

As she gestures for the door, I nod my head and exit my office with the woman following right beside me. As I get a look at the door of the station, my mind can only think of the next step: checking this new lead.