Chapter 2: The Impossible Evidence (Lauren POV)

"It's gone." My voice cracked as I stared into the empty evidence box. "Everything. The knife, the jacket, the DNA samples, all of it."

Alex stepped closer, peering over my shoulder into the barren container. "That's impossible. This room is locked down tighter than Fort Knox."

I spun around to face him, my mind racing through possibilities. "What exactly were you doing here, Alex? You said you came to check on evidence?"

"The Richardson case. I needed to verify some ballistics evidence for tomorrow's hearing." He gestured toward a shelf three rows over. "My box is right there."

I followed his gaze and saw another evidence container sitting open, its contents neatly arranged. Ballistics reports, bagged shell casings, photographs, everything exactly where it should be.

"Show me your access log," I demanded.

Alex pulled out his phone and navigated to the security app all detectives used to track evidence room entries. The screen showed his badge scan at 11:18 PM, just five minutes before I'd arrived.

"There." He held the phone toward me. "I badged in, grabbed what I needed, and was about to leave when I heard you shouting."

The timestamp was clear, but something still felt wrong. "Why didn't you call out when I was searching for the intruder?"

"I was in the back section checking serial numbers against my case files. I didn't hear you come in until you started yelling about Chicago PD."

I studied his face, looking for tells. After six months of partnership, I knew Alex's expressions—the slight tightening around his eyes when he was concentrating, the way he rubbed his jaw when he was thinking through a problem. Right now, he looked genuinely concerned.

But Marcus Valdez was going to walk free in eight hours if I couldn't produce that evidence.

"We need to check the security footage," I said, already heading for the door. "The cameras record everything in this room."

"Lauren, wait." Alex caught my arm gently. "Maybe we should call this in first. If evidence was stolen, there's protocol..."

"No." I pulled free from his grip. "First I see what the cameras caught, then I call it in. I'm not having another case collapse because I followed protocol instead of my instincts."

We made our way down the corridor toward the security control room. My badge opened that door too, one of the perks of being next in line for lead detective. The room was cramped and dark, filled with monitors showing feeds from cameras throughout the building.

I found the evidence room controls and started rewinding the footage from Room C. "There," I said, pointing to the timestamp. "11:15. This should show whoever took my evidence."

The black-and-white footage rolled backward, showing Alex entering the room, then me, then nothing but empty aisles for several minutes. I kept rewinding.

"Stop," Alex said. "Look at the timestamp. 11:02."

On screen, the evidence room door remained closed, but inside something moved between the shelves. A dark shape, tall and humanoid but somehow fluid, drifted through the aisles like smoke.

"Jesus Christ." I leaned closer to the monitor. "There it is."

The figure moved directly to my evidence box, and I watched in stunned silence as it reached inside. The murder weapon, a blood-stained kitchen knife, lifted from the container as if pulled by invisible hands.

"Are you seeing this?" I asked Alex without taking my eyes off the screen.

"Seeing what? The timestamp shows 11:02, but the room looks empty to me."

I turned to stare at him. "Empty? Alex, there's someone right there, taking my evidence."

He squinted at the monitor, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Lauren, I see the timestamp changing, but the room is completely vacant. Are you sure you're looking at the right camera feed?"

My blood went cold. I looked back at the screen, where the dark figure was now moving toward the far wall, still carrying the knife. As I watched, it stepped through the solid concrete barrier and vanished.

"It just walked through the wall," I whispered.

"What walked through the wall? Lauren, you're scaring me. There's nothing on this footage except empty rooms."

I grabbed the mouse and replayed the sequence three times. Each time, I saw the same impossible scene, a shadow-figure stealing my evidence and walking through solid matter. And each time, Alex saw nothing.

"We need to show this to Captain Rodriguez," I said, saving the footage to a flash drive.

"Show him what, exactly?"

I met his eyes, seeing genuine worry there. Either Alex was the best actor I'd ever met, or he really couldn't see what I was seeing. Which meant either I was losing my mind, or something impossible was happening.

"Everything," I said.

Twenty minutes later, I stood in Captain Rodriguez's office, watching him review the same footage on his computer. The captain was a twenty-year veteran with gray hair and tired eyes who'd seen everything the job could throw at him. Or so I'd thought.

"Play it again," he said after watching the sequence twice.

I clicked replay and watched the dark figure perform its impossible theft for the fourth time in an hour.

"Detective James," Captain Rodriguez said slowly, "I'm looking at security footage of an empty evidence room. The timestamp shows the time period you specified, but there's no person, no intruder, and no theft visible on this recording."

"Sir, you have to see it. Right there..." I pointed at the screen where the figure lifted the knife. "It's taking my evidence and walking through the wall."

Captain Rodriguez exchanged a look with Alex, who stood beside my chair with his arms crossed. "Detective Henderson, what do you see in this footage?"

"An empty evidence room, sir. No movement, no intruders, no theft."

My heart pounded as the realization hit me. I was the only one who could see it. The only one who could see what had really happened to my evidence.

"Sir," I said carefully, "my evidence is gone. The murder weapon that would have convicted Marcus Valdez has disappeared from a locked room. Even if you can't see the perpetrator on the footage, you can verify that the evidence box is empty."

"We'll investigate the missing evidence thoroughly," Rodriguez said. "But Detective James, I'm concerned about your mental state. You're claiming to see things on this footage that aren't there."

"Because they are there! Just because you can't see them doesn't mean..."

"Enough." Rodriguez's voice cut through my protest. "Detective Henderson, I want you to escort Detective James to the evidence room and verify the status of the Valdez materials. If they're truly missing, we'll launch a full investigation."

As we walked back to the evidence room, I studied Alex's profile. His jaw was tight with tension, and he kept glancing at me with what looked like concern. But something nagged at me, a detail I couldn't quite place.

"Alex," I said as he badged us into the evidence room, "how long have you been assigned to this district?"

"Six months. Since I transferred from the South Side."

"And before that?"

He paused, his hand on the light switch. "Various assignments. Why?"

"Just curious about your background. We've been partners for months, but I realized I don't know much about your history."

"There's not much to know." He flipped on the lights, and we walked to my evidence box. Still empty. "I transferred here because I wanted a change of scenery. Fresh start, you know?"

I opened the empty container and photographed it from multiple angles. "Where exactly were you before 11:18 tonight?"

Alex turned to face me fully, his expression shifting from concern to something I couldn't read. "Are you questioning my whereabouts, Detective James?"

"I'm questioning everyone's whereabouts. My case just got destroyed by an invisible thief that apparently only I can see. I think a little paranoia is justified."

"Fine." He pulled out his phone again. "I was in the break room until 11:15, then came down here. The building security cameras will show me walking from the elevator to the evidence room. My badge logs will show exactly when I accessed this room and when I accessed the break room vending machine."

I studied his face as he spoke. Everything he said made perfect sense. His timeline was airtight, verifiable through multiple security systems.

But something still felt wrong.

"Show me," I said.

We returned to the security control room, where Alex pulled up the building's main camera feeds. There he was on multiple cameras; entering the break room at 10:47, buying a Coke from the vending machine at 11:12, walking to the evidence room at 11:16.

Perfect. Too perfect.

"Satisfied?" Alex asked.

I stared at the footage of him buying a Coke, time-stamped just six minutes before he'd found me in the evidence room. His alibi was absolutely solid, backed by digital evidence that couldn't be faked.

Which meant either Alex Henderson was innocent, or whoever had stolen my evidence was far more sophisticated than any ordinary thief.