Sarah Chen's phone vibrated against her nightstand at 1:14 AM, dragging her from a dream she'd already forgotten. She grabbed it without opening her eyes, muscle memory from twelve years of being on call.
"Chen."
"Detective, we've got a situation at the docks." Dispatch. Young guy, Rodriguez maybe. Voice tight with the kind of tension that meant bad news. "Homicide. The officer on scene is requesting you specifically."
Sarah sat up, already reaching for the jeans she'd draped over her chair. "I'm not primary tonight. Walker's got the rotation."
"Walker's requested you anyway. Says you need to see this."
Something in Rodriguez's tone made her stomach drop. "What's the address?"
"1247 Pier Street. Warehouse district."
"Victim ID?"
A pause. Too long. "Detective, you really need to get down here."
Sarah was already pulling on her boots. "Rodriguez. Victim ID. Now."
"It's not the victim, ma'am." Another pause. "It's the suspect. He's... it's Detective Kane. Marcus Kane. He called it in himself."
The room tilted. Sarah gripped the edge of her bed, phone pressed so hard against her ear it hurt.
"Say that again."
"Detective Kane is at the scene. There's a body. He's covered in blood and he's not... ma'am, he's not making a lot of sense. Captain Devereaux is en route, but Kane asked for you. He won't talk to anyone else."
Sarah was moving before Rodriguez finished speaking, grabbing her shield, her weapon, her jacket. "I'm ten minutes out. Nobody touches him until I get there. You understand? Nobody questions him, nobody cuffs him, nobody does anything until I arrive."
"Yes ma'am, but Detective….."
She hung up.
Her hands shook as she locked her apartment door. Marcus. God, Marcus. She'd known something was wrong, had felt it for months now. The gaps in conversation. The way he'd zone out mid-sentence and come back different, colder. The mornings he'd show up to the precinct looking like he hadn't slept, with no memory of where he'd been the night before.
She'd covered for him. Made excuses. Told herself it was just the stress, just the job grinding him down like it ground everyone down eventually.
But this. This was different.
Sarah's Camry ate up the empty streets, city lights blurring past. She ran two red lights and didn't care. Her mind was already working the angles, the possibilities, the explanations that might make sense of whatever she was about to walk into.
Marcus wouldn't kill someone. Not like this. Not calling it in himself, not standing there waiting to be arrested. If he'd snapped, if the PTSD had finally broken him the way everyone except Sarah had been predicting for years, he'd run or he'd eat his gun. He wouldn't wait around for processing.
Unless he wanted to be caught.
Unless he was trying to confess to something.
The warehouse district was a maze of corrugated metal and broken streetlights, the kind of place where cops only went when they had to. Three patrol cars lit up the night, red and blue painting everything in stark relief. Sarah parked behind them and was out before her engine finished ticking.
Officer Walker met her at the perimeter tape. He was young, maybe twenty-six, and looked like he'd seen his first corpse about twenty minutes ago.
"Detective Chen." He was trying to be professional, landing somewhere near nauseous. "He's inside. We haven't moved him. Haven't touched anything."
"Good. Keep it that way." Sarah ducked under the tape. "Who else has been in there?"
"Just me and Martinez for the initial response. We secured the scene and backed out."
"The body?"
"Miguel Reyes. Viper enforcer. Three gunshot wounds, GSR on Kane's hands, and his throat's been cut." Walker swallowed hard. "It's bad, Detective."
Sarah's stomach twisted, but she kept her face neutral. "Did Kane say anything?"
"Just that he needed to talk to you. And..." Walker hesitated.
"And what?"
"He keeps saying he doesn't remember. Over and over. 'I don't remember, I don't remember.' Like he's stuck on repeat."
That dropped ice down Sarah's spine. "Where is he?"
"Against the west wall. We left him his weapon initially, but we secured it. He just... sat down. Hasn't moved since."
Sarah nodded and pushed through the warehouse door.
The smell hit her first. Blood and gunpowder, thick enough to taste. Then she saw the body….Reyes, crumpled in a pool of spreading crimson under a single hanging bulb. Professional hit. Clean shots. Brutal finish.
And there, thirty feet away, sitting with his back against the concrete wall, was Marcus Kane.
He looked up when she entered. His hands were covered in blood. His shirt was soaked with it. But his eyes were what stopped her cold. They were Marcus's eyes, the same gray she'd looked into a thousand times, but there was something behind them now. Something terrified and lost.
"Sarah." His voice cracked. "I don't... I can't..."
She crossed the distance slowly, aware of Walker watching from the doorway, aware that every move she made right now would be documented and used either for or against Marcus.
"Marcus." She kept her tone level, professional. "I need you to walk me through what happened."
"I don't know what happened." He looked at his hands like they belonged to someone else. "I was home. I was drinking. And then I was here. An hour just... gone. And he's dead and I'm covered in his blood and I know I did this but I don't remember doing it."
Sarah crouched three feet away, keeping distance between them. Evidence. Chain of custody. She had to think like a cop, not like someone who'd loved this man.
"You called it in."
"I had to." Marcus met her eyes. "Sarah, I killed him. I know I killed him. But I don't know why. I don't know how. There's just this gap where an hour should be and when I came back to myself he was dead."
"You're saying you blacked out?"
"No. Yes. I don't..." He pressed his palms against his temples, leaving bloody prints. "It wasn't a blackout. It was worse. I was there, Sarah. I was conscious. But I wasn't in control."
That didn't make sense. Sarah had seen PTSD breaks, fugue states, dissociative episodes. They didn't work like that.
"Marcus, I need to know. Did you kill Miguel Reyes?"
He laughed, and it was the worst sound she'd ever heard. "My gun. My hands. Yeah, Sarah. I killed him. And the fucked up part? I think this isn't the first time."
Before Sarah could respond, her phone buzzed. Text from Captain Devereaux: 'Chen. Step outside. Now.'
She ignored it. "What do you mean, not the first time?"
"The gaps. The lost hours. What if I've been doing this for months and I just don't remember?"
Sarah's phone buzzed again. This time a call. Devereaux. She declined it.
"We need to get you processed. Booking, statement, lawyer. Everything by the book."
"I know."
"And Marcus? Don't say another word to anyone. Not one word."
He nodded. "There was a message on my phone. Confirmation that the target was neutralized. I sent it. But I don't remember sending it."
"Stop talking. Right now. We're done."
But as she turned to signal Walker, Marcus said one more thing:
"I'm not crazy, Sarah. Something's wrong. Something's really wrong."
And looking at him….at the blood and the horror and the genuine confusion, Sarah believed him.
Which meant this was about to get much worse.