Chapter 9. Once you start telling, you can't stop
"Then I couldn't hear anything more," Anna sobbed harder, her voice breaking.
"Mom had promised to let me out secretly at noon—she was going to teach me how to bake a cake. But Mom never came back."
"I knew something terrible had happened to her, so I kicked the door and screamed, hoping someone would hear me."
"But there was no one."
"It wasn't until evening that Sitt finally let me out. He told me Mom had been killed."
Anna wiped her tears away, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a cold edge of malice.
"I knew she had murdered Mom."
"I wanted to confront her immediately, but Dad blamed me for not taking proper care of Mom. He wanted to lock me in the basement as punishment. I had no opportunity to find her."
"Not until you arrested him."
Theodore and Bernie exchanged meaningful glances. Theodore leaned forward slightly. "Does Sitt know what you did?"
Anna shook her head firmly.
"He doesn't know anything."
She continued, her voice growing steadier as the confession poured out. "That night, I waited until he fell asleep before sneaking out. I rang her doorbell—she was already in bed and seemed very surprised to see me. But then she warmly invited me inside."
"She even brought out baked cake and apples to serve me. The cake recipe was one my mom had taught her."
"I confronted her about killing my mother, but she denied everything. Instead, she claimed Mom was promiscuous and had seduced a stranger—that's why she was murdered."
"I demanded she apologize..."
Her voice trailed off for a moment before she added quietly, "When I saw you discover the body, I was terrified of being caught, so I secretly burned my clothes."
Confession, Theodore knew, was like a dam bursting—once it started, it flowed endlessly and couldn't be controlled.
Bernie and Theodore didn't need to guide her further. Anna finished her account entirely on her own.
By the end, her emotions had settled, and her narration became more coherent and logical. Yet she didn't stop there—she told them everything, every detail she could remember.
After the interrogation concluded, Anna would be transferred to a holding cell for temporary custody, awaiting formal transfer to the prosecutor's office the following day.
Before being escorted out, she made one final request: to be held in the same cell as her brother Sitt.
Bernie was silent for a long moment, then nodded his agreement.
The two officers gathered the signed confession and headed to Wenner's office to report their success.
As soon as they opened the door, they discovered the entire Homicide Team gathered in the hallway outside.
The officers were sitting against the walls or standing in clusters, all eyes fixed on Theodore and Bernie.
No one knew who started it, but applause began to ripple through the group, quickly building into a sustained ovation.
Wenner approached, took the confession, flipped to the final page to confirm Anna's signature, then closed it with satisfaction.
"Alright, everyone, go home and get some rest," he announced with a broad smile. "No need to report for work tomorrow morning!"
"Hooray!"
"Long live the Boss!"
"Long live Bernie and Dickson!"
The cheers echoed through the hallway.
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The next morning, despite still feeling drowsy, Theodore forced himself up and dressed.
Around 7:40 AM, he arrived at the station to find Wenner positioned outside the Chief's office, true to his word about blocking the door with their successful case report.
Back in the main office, the Homicide Team was predictably empty—not a single soul had reported for duty.
Theodore first organized his desk, then methodically filed the documents for cases 600403 and 600511. By the time he finished, it was already ten o'clock.
Wenner still hadn't returned from his meeting.
Theodore pulled out his notebook and began documenting the investigation process for both cases. He'd decided to maintain detailed records of every case he participated in—a habit that might prove valuable later.
It wasn't until noon that team members began trickling back in.
In less than twelve hours, these previously dispirited individuals had been transformed into lively, energetic versions of themselves.
Theodore attributed this remarkable change to the euphoria that comes with victory and recognition.
However, he soon realized that while the surface appeared unchanged, something fundamental had shifted in the office dynamics.
A bearded detective was distributing small cakes his daughter had baked, his face glowing with paternal pride. A tall, long-haired officer stood on a desk, bellowing a song through a rolled paper tube while others playfully begged him to spare their eardrums.
The entire Homicide Team seemed to be on holiday.
The detective in front of Theodore was complaining about his wife's disdain the previous evening, while another sighed that women were indeed difficult creatures to understand.
Bernie, meanwhile, proudly displayed his new tie, explaining that his wife had personally knotted it for him that morning before he left home.
They didn't exclude Theodore from these conversations—in fact, several officers offered to introduce him to unmarried friends of their wives who might make suitable companions.
This was the first time he'd heard anyone discuss their personal lives.
Bernie quietly provided insight into this transformation. "Everyone's genuinely grateful to you."
"Normally, we'd be pulling three consecutive all-nighters until the case got reassigned to another team. You provided the crucial breakthrough that saved everyone from that ordeal. Of course, they're grateful."
Theodore sensed it was more than simple gratitude.
He felt as though he'd only now truly become a member of the Homicide Team.
Before, despite his official transfer, everyone had been friendly but maintained a polite distance. No one—including Bernie—had treated him as genuinely one of their own.
It was only after cases 600403 and 600511 that the team had truly accepted him.
It seemed strange. He hadn't done anything particularly extraordinary, yet his status had undergone this remarkable transformation.
The office atmosphere was genuinely pleasant—harmonious and celebratory, with everyone either leaning back in chairs or perched on desks, chatting freely. It was completely different from just hours before, and even more dramatically changed from the previous day's tension.
At one o'clock, Wenner finally returned from his report to the Chief. His face beamed with authentic satisfaction, his portly frame moving with surprising agility, his steps noticeably lighter.
The team members rose as soon as they spotted him.
Wenner chuckled as he approached the two whiteboards, with team members naturally gathering around him in anticipation.
"This morning, Anna Brian was officially transferred to the prosecutor's office, and case 600403 has been closed and archived," Wenner announced, his smile encompassing the entire group.
He erased the bottom two entries from the Cold Case section, moved to the right side of the board, and rewrote them in bold black ink.
No words were necessary. His action alone triggered immediate applause throughout the office.
The ovation continued until he finished writing, then gradually subsided.
Wenner's gaze swept across each team member, lingering thoughtfully.
After a pause, he raised his hand and grinned.
"See you all tonight at Old Gun Bar!"
"Yeah!"
Whistles and cheers filled the entire office.
Theodore had never heard of Old Gun Bar, so he looked questioningly at Bernie.
Bernie leaned over and explained quietly, "It's a bar run by a retired cop. Very unique place. Sometimes after we close a big case, we go there to celebrate."
Wenner didn't linger in the main office but summoned two specific people to his private office.
According to established tradition, the entire Homicide Team would be in informal shutdown mode for the rest of the day. Everyone needed time to celebrate, decompress, and rest.
There would inevitably be widespread tardiness tomorrow morning, and only on the third day would operations return to normal.
With Wenner present, the team members showed some restraint and didn't dare slack off too openly.
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"I called you both in because I wanted to discuss your respective partnership arrangements."
Wenner's tone was amiable—without the excitement he'd displayed outside, but not overly serious either.
Theodore and Bernie exchanged glances, each catching a hint of nervousness and apprehension in the other's eyes.
This left Theodore somewhat puzzled.
The Homicide Team typically operated independently. When new cases arose, they'd form task forces and work collectively, so having an official partner didn't seem particularly crucial.
He genuinely didn't understand Bernie's persistent interest in formalizing their partnership.
Despite his confusion, Theodore was quite satisfied working with Bernie, and both men nodded their agreement to Wenner.
"Excellent."
Wenner opened his briefcase and extracted two paper bags, tossing them onto the desk.
Without needing instruction, Bernie reached forward and opened one, revealing an assortment of vouchers: gift certificates, discount coupons, gas vouchers, laundry tickets, and various other perks.