Irritated, Benedict shoved the stack of papers away from him. The sheets slid across the desk—some ended up crookedly piled on top of one another, others sailed down to the floor. He paid them no attention.
It had been over a week since the two Phantoms had stolen Aurora's Tear, and every lead they had had come to nothing. It was so frustrating that Benedict was slowly running out of ideas about what they could do next.
They had summoned Amara Lane, their most promising suspect so far. But of all times, she had had a watertight alibi at the exact moment of the robbery—confirmed by more than ten other people. Which, unfortunately, meant they had had to say goodbye to their only suspect.
And the other leads hadn't yielded any insights either. They had only raised more questions.
What was he overlooking?
Benedict's gaze fell on the whiteboard that he and his team kept up to date. For what felt like the hundredth time, he went over everything related to the heist. He also reviewed the little they had gathered on the other cases, but unfortunately there was even less of use there.
Moonshadow hadn't opened a window, nor had he strolled in or out through any door. The air vents had been too dusty and showed no signs that anyone had crawled through the grime.
So how had he escaped?
From everything they had discovered so far, the bastard had simply vanished into thin air. Or he had changed clothes at lightning speed, blended in with the cops, and cheerfully walked out through the main entrance—Aurora's Tear in his pocket.
Benedict snorted in amusement.
That was exactly the sort of thing he would expect from a cheeky thief like Moonshadow.
However, they had entered the exhibition hall shortly after Moonshadow and had immediately searched everything. No one changes clothes within ten seconds—especially not with a bleeding gunshot wound.
Not even the hospitals had reported a gunshot wound.
They were treading water, and Benedict was slowly beginning to understand why this team had so far failed to catch the Phantoms—despite all the security measures.
Benedict didn't even want to imagine how long he would be working on this case. He would spend half an eternity trying to catch the Phantoms, which meant he wouldn't be able to search for Dan's murderer for a very long time.
The only thing that perhaps softened his mood a little was that Sebastian wasn't making any progress either. They had just as few leads as Benedict did.
He turned his head slightly to the right and watched Jasper once again pouring one of those disgustingly sweet coffees down his throat. Benedict stared at him in silence. God, he was so angry.
"What is it?" Jasper asked when he noticed Benedict's stare.
"You knew how hopeless this case is," Benedict replied.
Jasper shot him a puzzled look.
"What do you mean by that?"
"We don't have any leads, and we're not making a single bit of progress." Benedict rubbed his face in frustration. "We're not even getting anywhere with the gunshot wound I gave that guy."
Unimpressed, Jasper typed something into his laptop.
"You knew that from the beginning. I never gave you high hopes that this case would be solved quickly."
He was right—he had never given him much hope. He had rather hoped that Benedict would bring in new insights, that with Benedict's help they would get closer to the thieves.
The rings he wore around his neck felt heavy. He felt guilty for no longer working on Dan's case. He had stopped searching for his lover's murderer and had abandoned him.
Benedict clenched his jaw.
"You did," he forced out.
"You know, I had hoped that with you we might get something moving in this case, and you actually managed to injure that little thief. That's more than we've achieved so far, and thanks to you we now also know that there are two thieves, not just one," Jasper said calmly. "So we know that someone has been messing around in our databases. That's more than I ever hoped for from your involvement."
Benedict's anger faded a little. He studied Jasper's face, etched with fatigue and stress.
"And yet everything leads to nothing," Benedict snorted, leaning back in his chair.
"I see that differently," Jasper said. "Our opponents are made of flesh and blood. And I'll authorize live ammunition for the next heist as well."
Benedict looked up in surprise. "Weren't the authorities angry about the damage I caused?" he asked cautiously.
"They were," Jasper replied bluntly. Then he shrugged slightly. "But they also recognized the potential your action revealed. Unfortunately, that doesn't help us in other areas."
His voice suddenly sounded drained—deeply tired. Jasper now turned fully away from the laptop and fixed his gaze on Benedict.
"We've had budget cuts, and we won't get another chance to involve other precincts."
Benedict blinked. "That's a bad joke."
"I wish it were," sighed Jasper. "We'll only get support outside the museum to hold position and control the crowd. Inside the building, only our team is allowed to operate."
Benedict cursed under his breath.
"So there are only five colleagues inside the building!"
Jasper nodded.
"I know," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm trying to change their minds, but it takes time and more evidence. We have to give them something concrete; otherwise, this case will be taken from us, and some colleagues will be reassigned."
Benedict was momentarily speechless.
"That sounds like they want to shut down our precinct," Benedict said in disbelief.
Jasper let out a humorless laugh.
"Unfortunately, that's exactly it," he snorted. "I haven't been able to provide a solid record for quite some time. Of course, we still solve many cases, but not the ones that really matter."
"And how are we supposed to catch those damn Phantoms then? What about Dan's killer?!"
Jasper's gaze grew serious.
"They'll take the cases from us and assign them to another precinct. Our precinct will then only handle minor crimes."
Benedict swallowed the bitter anger rising in his mouth. He felt like vomiting. If they didn't catch the Phantoms, he'd have no chance of searching for Dan's murderer either. It felt as though the ground were being ripped out from under him.
Frantically, he tried to make sense of it. At least Jasper didn't sound like the cases would be taken away the very next day. He had already mentioned the next operation. So they still had a little time.
"How much time do we have?"
The corner of Jasper's mouth twitched.
"Even though we live in a highly technological age, bureaucracy still moves very slowly—especially in our line of work," he explained calmly. "We have six months."
Benedict exhaled in relief.
"Damn it, stop overdramatizing! I was already afraid we'd lose access to the cases starting tomorrow!"
Jasper's mouth twisted into a narrow grin.
"Don't forget who you're talking to. I didn't spend all that time kissing their asses for nothing. This was inevitable. Now we just have to somehow manage to solve the cases over the next six months—or at least push everything far enough along that they're practically closed."
"That's going to be damn hard work," Benedict muttered.
"Getting cold feet?"
Benedict snorted in amusement. The anger—and the fear—gnawed deep into his guts. He couldn't allow the cases to be taken from him.
"Not a chance," he said more confidently than he felt. "So? Shall we design a few traps for our favorite thieves?"
Jasper chuckled softly.
"Let's get started. I have no intention of backing down in front of the board."
___
On Monday morning, the alarm clock ripped him abruptly from sleep. Benedict blinked groggily and—like so often—found himself on the couch in his living room. The cool stillness of his apartment was suddenly shattered by the shrill noise that pierced him to the core.
With an annoyed grunt, he groped for his phone. Not an easy task, as he had fallen asleep on his stomach, one arm half trapped beneath him. He sat up with effort, grabbed the infuriating device, and—just before flinging it against the wall—he instead turned off the alarm.
He had spent the entire weekend with Jasper and Sebastian thinking about how to catch Moonshadow—or Ink Phantom. They had gathered several ideas, which resulted in Benedict arriving at his apartment late that night.
And only because he not only had to shower but also needed fresh clothes before going back to work. Otherwise, he would have happily stayed over at Jasper's again. It had been liberating not to have to sleep in his own apartment.
He sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed his face tiredly. Without the beeping of the alarm, it was eerily quiet again—a silence almost unbearable after the lively, chaotic weekend.
The weekend with Jasper and Sebastian had been exhausting. They had planned and thought through so much that, at some point, it felt like smoke was coming out of his ears. Yet despite all the stress, it had been a lot of fun. It had distracted him.
The time he spent with his friends really did him good. He felt more alive when they were around.
Benedict let his gaze wander through the dark apartment. He looked at the things he had acquired together with Dan. They had chosen all of it together, hoping for a long future together.
Enough!
He shook off the sad thoughts and stood up abruptly to take an ice-cold shower. The cold water drove the thoughts of Dan away from him and washed them down the drain.
You promised yourself you wouldn't grieve again until you caught his killer. Pull yourself together, Ben.
He closed his eyes and turned the water a little warmer. His breathing slowly began to calm.
Soon, he would have to do something about his situation. But the time hadn't come yet. First, he had to deal with the problems at work. One thing at a time. First the Phantoms, then Dan's killer.
If they caught the three criminals within the next six months, he wouldn't just regain his peace of mind—Jasper wouldn't have any trouble with the board either. Everything would go back to the way it was supposed to. Almost everything.
Benedict didn't know if he would ever truly be able to let Dan go.
But he made a firm vow to do so at the latest when he had put Dan's killer behind bars. Anything else was unacceptable—a betrayal of Dan, of himself, of the promise he had made that night.
And yet, a small voice whispered deep inside him, quiet but persistent, that he would feel better if he didn't think about Dan constantly. He knew that Jasper and Sebastian wanted exactly that for him.
He shouldn't forget him. He should just live his own life. Be happy.
He knew he should sell the apartment soon and find a new place. He knew it. It was just far too hard to part with all of this. He could still feel his beloved's gentle embrace. The weight of his death still pressed heavily on Benedict's shoulders.
And with each passing day, the rings around his neck seemed to grow heavier.
Benedict gripped them tightly, as if they could give him support. He took several deep breaths until the tightness in his chest slowly eased. Then he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He dried himself quickly and got dressed. He shaved quickly and brushed his teeth before hastily packing his bag and practically fleeing from his apartment.
He needed a distraction. Anything. It was six in the morning, so there was only one place he could go before work.
The path to Café Noir had become as familiar as the way to his office, even though it was just a small detour he had to take to get there. The closer he got to the café, the calmer he became.
He had long since stopped seeing the apartment as his home. It had once been the place where he and his beloved wanted to put down roots until they had saved enough for a house. But since Dan had been gone, it had become nothing more than an empty, cold shell, dressed up with pretty wallpaper and photos from a happy time.
Damn, he was agitated.
The whole situation worried him. He absolutely did not want to have to give up even one of the cases. Just the thought of not being able to catch Dan's killer himself filled him with a hopelessness that threatened to tear the ground out from under his feet.
It wasn't until he stood in Café Noir and saw the white-haired barista that his thoughts calmed a little.
Right. This was his distraction.
He still hadn't decided whether Isaac had something shady going on or not. Fortunately, that was something he could figure out on his own, without work breathing down his neck. It was a nice little diversion he could always indulge in when he was at the café.
"Good morning, Isaac," he greeted the young barista when it was his turn.
"Good morning." Isaac tilted his head slightly. "The usual?"
Benedict nodded. "That would be great. I'll sit back there again and eat here today."
"As you wish. I'll bring everything to your table as soon as I've served the customers behind you," he replied politely, as always. Yet he still had that distant, cool expression.
"No problem, I have time," Benedict said and walked to the table where he had always sat since he started coming to this café.
While he waited, he watched Isaac calmly serve the customers. His expression didn't change once as he went about his work.
Does he ever smile?
In recent days, Benedict had been so absorbed in his work that he had only come to the café to get his coffee and breakfast. He had spoken to Isaac the occasional time, but their conversations had always been brief and revealed very little about Isaac himself.
Partly because he wanted to meet Jasper at the office early, or because too many customers were waiting behind him for their turn. The counter wasn't exactly the right place to learn more about the young man anyway.
But today he intended to take a little more time.
It didn't take long for the morning rush to be handled. Isaac glanced briefly at him, nodded, and then turned to Benedict's order.
Benedict continued watching him. His thoughts now revolved entirely around Isaac. He desperately wanted to know why Isaac worked as a barista in this café. Isaac wasn't dumb; quite the opposite—he was actually quite intelligent. He seemed to rarely do anything without thinking it through first. At least, he didn't come across like the typical young man his age, who would just charge headfirst into everything.
Maybe he was a student, earning a living here on the side.
Or maybe it was just one job among several. He had met plenty of young people who kept themselves afloat with a handful of small jobs.
Who were his parents? What did they do for a living? Did he have contact with them, or not? Who were his friends? Did this quiet, reserved man even have friends? What about a lover? Or a partner? What did he do in his free time, and which places did he usually go to?
Once the train of thought started, it was almost impossible to stop. Benedict wanted to know everything about him. Only then, he believed, would he truly understand who Isaac was.
And above all, he would then know whether those thugs had really just picked on him by chance—or not. Maybe he owed money to the wrong people and was working it off. Or perhaps someone had racked up debts in his name and then disappeared.
The possibilities were virtually endless.
Yet somehow, he hoped that Isaac was simply someone who earned an honest living and had just been unlucky that day.
A loud clack! pulled him out of his thoughts as Isaac set the plate with Benedict's egg sandwiches in front of him. Benedict flinched slightly, realizing he had been staring at Isaac the whole time.
"You're staring," Isaac noted coolly.
"I…was lost in thought. Excuse me, Isaac. I didn't mean to," he apologized. Luckily, the small lie slipped easily off his tongue.
Isaac shot him a brief, annoyed look.
"As an apology, could you tell me your name? You always address me by mine, but I don't know yours."
Benedict looked at him in surprise.
"My name?"
Isaac sighed quietly. "So I can scold you when you stare at me again." He placed the coffee on the table and neatly arranged the cutlery next to the plate. "By the way, I really don't like being stared at."
Unconsciously, he thought back to the conversation he had had with Isaac a week ago—how he took self-defense classes because of his appearance. And here he was, staring at a young man who seemingly struggled with how he looked.
Just because he was a cop and it had become second nature to scrutinize people so closely. He felt a twinge of guilt. He really just wanted to learn more about Isaac so he could put his suspicions to rest.
Still, he had to smile. Isaac wanted to scold him?
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Why are you laughing?"
"I was imagining you scolding me," he said with a smile. For a moment, a bashful expression flitted across Isaac's face. His ears were slightly pink.
"Maybe I should just throw you out instead," he muttered irritably.
Benedict had to smile again. "Excuse me, Isaac, I didn't mean to upset you."
He extended his hand toward him. Isaac hesitated for a moment, then took it.
"My name is Benedict, and I'd be glad if you just used 'du' with me. Otherwise, I feel older than I actually am."
"Benedict, huh," Isaac repeated. He took the tray back. „Okay, that's fine with me – however, only if we leave out the polite forms of address."
"Gladly," Benedict said with a smile.
Perhaps a really good chance had just presented itself to get to know the young man better. Right now, besides the two of them, there was no one else in the café; with some luck, he might have enough time to learn a thing or two about Isaac.
"Can you let go of my hand? It's getting uncomfortable," Isaac interrupted Benedict's thoughts.
"Oh! Of course!" Benedict said quickly and released his hand. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."
Isaac snorted amusedly. If Benedict squinted, he could even detect the hint of a smile.
"I don't think I've ever heard so many apologies in such a short time."
"I've actually never apologized to the same person this often either," Benedict admitted. "By the way, Isaac, I wanted to ask you—"
But at that exact moment, the café door opened, and a new wave of customers streamed in. The soft ringing of the bell was drowned out by the noise of voices. Isaac glanced over his shoulder, then back at Benedict.
"What did you want to ask?"
"Oh, nothing important, just—"
"Hello?!" a voice called irritably from the counter. "Could you please come? I'm in a hurry!"
"One moment!" Isaac called back. Then he turned to Benedict again. "So?"
"I…," Benedict began, but his thoughts were racing. He was feverishly thinking about how to draw Isaac into a conversation. Would he have time later? On the other hand, Benedict had to get to the precinct soon; the morning briefing wouldn't wait.
"I really don't have time!" the customer shouted again.
Isaac rolled his eyes in annoyance and was about to turn away when Benedict instinctively grabbed his hand. Isaac froze, looking at him more or less shocked.
"What—" he began, but Benedict cut him off.
"Do you already have plans for Friday evening?"
Isaac's fingers twitched in his hand. He looked caught off guard and a little overwhelmed. "W-what? No… I don't think so. Why?"
"Good," Benedict said quickly. He grabbed a napkin, scribbled his number on it, and pressed it into Isaac's hand. "Let's go for a drink."
Isaac stared at him as if he hadn't quite understood. "Why would I want to go for a drink with you?"
"Because…" Benedict began. But immediately, he felt embarrassed about the move—he had acted so quickly that he hadn't thought it through. But wasn't this basically like asking Isaac out on a date? No, this wasn't a date request. He was doing it because he needed the distraction. "Because I want to get to know you better."
Isaac studied him for a moment longer before finally withdrawing his wrist. In the background, Benedict could hear the rude customer calling for attention again.
"Fine. I'll get in touch with you. You find a place where we won't be bothered and stared at by everyone. If you can meet those conditions, I'll go for a drink with you," he said, finally turning to the customer who was loudly demanding Isaac's attention.
Benedict leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. His hand unconsciously went to his necklace. This wasn't a date. He wasn't betraying Dan. He was just going for a drink with another man.
At best, by Friday he would at least know how to read Isaac.