Nick breezed past the front desk, the guard positioned behind it completely unaware of the intruder.

He had spent all night looking through boxes for the list only to come up empty handed. Just like Brian had said his next place to look was in the police evidence warehouse, and it had been a lot easier for him to get in then it ever would have been for Brian. Finding his evidence box was a completely different story. 

The entire building was full of shelves from floor to ceiling full of boxes. The only identification on them was the case number, and of course Nick never thought to ask Brian what his case number might be before he’d come. 

With a heavy sigh Nick looked around the room, finally spotting a small computer off to the side, unsupervised for the time being. Curiously he checked it out, realizing that the older computer was basically a registry of all the boxes in the room. The only problem was the computer required a badge number in order to search for the case number and find the appropriate shelf. 

“Security,” Nick scoffed, needing to figure out how to find that box. 

“Excuse me,” he heard a voice say and he continued to try and figure out how to get past the small detail of a missing badge number even though people had come back into the room.

“Ahem. Excuse me,” the voice repeated, louder and far more annoyed this time and Nick looked over out of curiosity, wondering what was going on. 

He turned around and found himself face to forehead with a petite Hispanic woman. She was dressed in a business suit, with a badge hanging off of her lapel. Nick wondered what was looking through him at but he quickly realized that she wasn’t looking through him at all, she was looking at him.

“Yes?” he asked, unsure as to whether or not the woman would be able to hear his words. 

“For a second I thought you couldn’t hear me,” she said, her demeanour immediately changing from being annoyed back to chipper. 

“You shouldn’t be able to hear me,” Nick muttered low enough that she couldn’t hear, “Can uh…I help you?”

“I’m having trouble finding some evidence. It’s not on the shelf it should be on,” she explained and Nick realized that this woman thought that he worked there. How she could even see him in the first place was a mystery and he was thoroughly disturbed by it. 

“Um, have you looked it up?” Nick asked, pointing to the computer, “Maybe it was moved.”

She gave him a strange look, raising a thin eyebrow high up her forehead, “Maybe,” she said sounding completely unconvinced, heading to the computer. She sat down and typed in her information (which Nick keenly memorized), and watched as the screen prompted her for more information. She filled out the second form and a shelf number with an appropriate letter was printed out on a small sheet of paper from the printer next to the computer, “Same number. I went and looked but nothing was there. Could you help me?”

Nick’s eyes went wide, wondering what he could do to get himself out of this situation, “I uh, I’ll try but uh, I don’t work here…I’m a cop.”

“You are?” she inquired curiously looking him up and down. He was lucky enough that someone on the other side liked him enough to have put him in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans rather than let his soul wander the earth in a pair of blood soaked boxers. 

Nick nodded, though it lacked the confidence it should have had, “Yeah. LAPD,”

“What division are you with?”

“West Traffic,” he replied, thankful for those times he’d gotten arrested since at least he learned something from it. 

She didn’t look convinced and Nick was nervous but thankful when she let it drop then asked him to accompany her while she looked for the box. 

“You’re actually IAB aren’t you?” she asked in a quiet voice, looking around to make sure there was no one around.

“How did you know?” Nick asked in the worst impression of a surprised person.

“Traffic cops don’t have clearance to the evidence lock-up. You should remember that next time you’re sent here to find something. You must be new?”

“Brand new,” he nodded “You’re IAB…too?”

“Yes,” she grinned, “I’m Officer Torres, you can call me Valerie.”

“Valerie,” he smiled, “I’m Nick,” he made sure not to mention the part about rank because he wasn’t sure if she would know he wasn’t brand new. 

“Ok,” Valerie bubbled, “This is the right row, now to find the shelf.”

Nick glanced at the shelf number and started searching. He was completely disturbed as to how this police officer could see him and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. What made her so special that she got to see him when even the rest of his friends couldn’t? He just didn’t understand it. He’d have to tell Brian. 

“It’s not here,” Nick told her, seeing the place that the box was supposed to be just an empty hole amongst the rows. 

“Damn,” she muttered, looking down at the paper then back up to the empty spot, “Things always go missing in this city. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Um, no actually, I was about to look when you asked for my help,” Nick explained. 

Valerie gasped, “Oh I’m so sorry, well since you helped me find the right spot I’ll help you find yours.”

Nick grinned, “That would be great.”

As they walked back to the computer Valerie kept looking at him strangely, “I hope you don’t take offense to this but are you alright? You seem awfully…pale.”

“It’s been a rough week,” Nick explained, “Now I’m not entirely sure how to use this search system. Do you think you could help me?”

“Sure!” she nodded and sat down in the seat, going through all of the steps while asking for Nick for the detailed information, not even realizing she hadn’t asked him to log himself onto the system, “You know, I’m really surprised they’re putting someone as new as you on this case. No offense.”

“None taken,” Nick shrugged, “I guess they wanted me to get something interesting to break my cherry,” he added as they grabbed the print off then went in search of the box. 

Valerie smiled at him before giving him a look like he was growing horns “Interesting,” she said sarcastically, “From what I’ve heard that case could be something really big.”

“What have you heard?” Nick asked curiously.

Valerie shrugged, “Someone at IAB has been pushing for an explanation as to why the lead homicide detective in the case has been linked to some curiously unsolved narcotics investigations.”

“They think one of the cops is dirty?” he asked, trying to use the lingo to sound informed.

“Well we are in the business of dirty cops after all,” she pointed out and they both looked up as they found themselves in front of the right shelf.

Nick nearly fainted as he saw his case number written on the box and he pulled it down from the shelf, grunting at how heavy it was. He brought the box over to a table and realized that he was required to wear protective gloves before he could touch the inside of the box. A slight sense of panic set in as he realized that after carrying that box such a long way he didn’t think he’d have the energy in him to try and get gloves onto his hands. Picking things up and touching things took a fair bit of concentration and he’d done a whole lot in the last few hours. 

Valerie didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he was doing so he just dove in glove free, tearing the top off the box. The first thing he pulled out was a long folder and he curiously glanced inside, gasping at the site.

“What is it?” she asked, eyes going wide when she heard Nick’s breath.

“Um, the pictures are just…shocking,” Nick replied, unable to tear his eyes away from the pictures of his body, mutilated and bloody with a bag tied around his head and hands behind his back laying on the rocky beach. 

“Yeah, I heard about that on the news when it happened. I guess the guy was famous but I had never heard of him to be honest. Had you?”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded and put the pictures back in the folder before looking for something else in the box, “He was a singer.”

“Was he any good?” Valerie wondered.

“Better than he thought,” Nick commented with a strained smile, looking through clear evidence bags to see if the matchbook was hiding anywhere.