Chapter 5 The Case They Buried

The scent of cinnamon and regret clung to Harris long after he left the café.

He should've said more. Should've held her hand when she trembled. Should've asked about Cherry again, even if she snapped. But he didn't. Because deep down, he knew, Monique was right.

He didn't deserve answers.

He deserved the weight of what he had missed.

So now, he would earn them the only way he could. By finding the truth.

He slid into his car and pulled the file from his glove compartment. The copy he wasn't supposed to have. The one he printed after everyone else had clocked out.

The Morris file.

Official time of death: 11:20 p.m.

But in the autopsy report? Digestion patterns suggested something eaten after midnight. Add to that the diner receipt Ruby mentioned, timestamped at 12:31 a.m. and it didn't add up.

Juliette Morris was alive after the timeline Billy built.

Which meant someone lied.

And someone died to keep the lie clean.

He parked three blocks from the warehouse and walked. He didn't want to draw attention. Not yet.

The warehouse had been cleared and shuttered, now just a boarded-up structure tagged with graffiti and silence. But Harris wasn't here for nostalgia.

He was here for ghosts.

And cameras.

There, mounted on the opposite building, an old surveillance cam, dusty, but intact. Facing the side alley between the warehouse and the bar Juliette used to frequent.

If Juliette left that night, this camera might've caught it.

He jotted down the building code and made a note to visit the property manager.

Step one: trace the footage.

Back in his car, Harris pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Tony," came a sleepy voice.

"I need your help. Quiet help."

"Jesus, Gray. I just went off shift."

"This is off-record."

A pause. "You working Monique's case?"

"She didn't do it, Tony."

Another pause. "What do you need?"

"Burner number, 0937. Last ping was near the warehouse at 1:18 a.m. I need subscriber data, towers, texts, everything."

"That's scrubbed."

"I know. But not if we pull it from the backup queue before the system wipes."

Tony groaned. "Give me two hours."

"Thank you."

Harris leaned back and stared at the ceiling of his car. His reflection in the rearview mirror looked unfamiliar. Tired. Haunted.

But underneath that, something else.

Determined.

Two Hours Later

Back at the precinct.

The call from Tony came with tension built in.

"You were right. Texts were between Juliette and that burner."

"Who owned it?"

"No name. But get this, the SIM card was activated with a credit card under Carla Morris."

Harris blinked. "Juliette's mother?"

"Yeah. That's not even the weird part."

"Then what is?"

"She messaged the phone the next morning. At 6:12 a.m. Said, 'It's done. No more mistakes.'"

Harris sat bolt upright. "The morning after Juliette was killed?"

Tony confirmed with a soft, "Yeah."

So the woman who was supposed to be mourning her daughter had sent a message to a number tied to the scene, hours after the death. Not grief. Control.

Cover-up.

And if Carla was part of this...

That changed everything.

Later That Night

Warehouse District, again.

Harris stood in the alley. Wind whipped trash across his boots. A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

He pulled out the burner number and stared at it.

If Carla was involved, then the death wasn't just messy, it was coordinated.

Which brought him back to Billy.

Billy Donovan, whose statement came after Monique's arrest.

Billy, who had already tried to call in a favor to "smooth it over."

Billy, who had once called Juliette his "silent partner" and later claimed he'd severed all business ties.

But the forensic financials showed something different.

Juliette had transferred $10,000 to a shell company tied to Donovan Security & Freight two weeks before she died.

What was she buying?

Or who?

Harris made one more call.

"Captain Dorsey."

"Sir. I need access to the files from the Morris warehouse raid. The full reports. Including any off-books surveillance or CI testimony."

"You're not assigned to that case anymore, Gray."

"I'm not asking for clearance. I'm telling you: the timeline is wrong. Someone is manipulating evidence."

Dorsey exhaled on the other end. "And why do I feel like this sudden awakening has something to do with a certain woman you once let vanish without backup?"

"She's innocent, Captain."

A beat.

"Then tread carefully. Because if Billy Donovan's involved, you're walking into a political minefield. His funding keeps half the city's charity board running."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Good. But make damn sure your evidence is bulletproof. Or next time, the cuffs won't be for her."

Back at His Apartment

Harris opened the file again. This time, he didn't skim.

He studied.

The coroner's photos. The inconsistent timestamps. The witness list with names missing.

And then he found it, tucked in the arrest report, almost like an afterthought.

A single line:

"Anonymous tip received, M. Campbell seen fleeing warehouse."

His blood ran cold.

That wasn't police work. That was bait.

They wanted her name in the system. Wanted her arrested, quickly, publicly.

Harris stared at the wall and whispered, "They set you up."

And now, they would regret it.