Charlotte Coleman's vigil at the precinct entrance lasted for two days. She didn't approach anyone, just watched, a silent, grieving figure. Her presence was a persistent reminder of the loose end represented by David Coleman's death and the persona of Vivian. I had to assume she was still pursuing the identity of the woman he was with, perhaps hoping to spot a familiar face among the detectives who had handled the case.
I avoided entering or leaving the precinct when she was present, using alternate exits and timing my movements carefully. Her grief was genuine, her search understandable, but it was also a direct threat to my carefully constructed life.
Her digital forensics friend remained an unknown variable. Had they made any progress on the photo? Had they run it through any databases? The possibility that her amateur investigation could yield a crucial lead was a constant source of anxiety.
The internal affairs pressure was a dull ache that never went away. Miller hadn't caught his leak, and his frustration was palpable. The polygraph tests had begun, a new layer of stress. I knew I could likely pass, my mental discipline honed by years of compartmentalization, but the risk of a false positive, triggered by the sheer volume of my secrets, was always there.
The subtle surveillance around my desk continued. A small tracker, easily missed, was stuck to the underside of my chair. I found it during one of my sweeps, another piece of evidence that someone was actively monitoring my movements within the precinct. This wasn't random. This was targeted.
I replaced the tracker with a dummy device and began feeding false information into my immediate vicinity – leaving fake notes about planned meetings or investigations that didn't exist, seeing if any of them led to reactions or further subtle probes. I needed to understand who was watching me, and why.
My investigation into Sterling, hampered by my inability to directly access his case information, proceeded slowly. Alvarez managed to get limited updates: he was still refusing to cooperate on the network, but the fraud case against him was strong. He was facing significant time. This increased the likelihood he might eventually try to trade information, including what he knew about Simone Dubois.
Then, Charlotte Coleman made her move.
She didn't come to the precinct. Instead, she contacted a local news station, going public with her search for the woman her husband was with when he died. She shared the enhanced photo, blurred but still showing key features, and recounted the bartender's description of the woman with "striking, intense eyes."
The story aired during the evening news. I watched it from my apartment, a cold dread spreading through me. The photo, the description, the public appeal – she was putting "Vivian" on blast. While the image was still blurry, it was out there now, in the public consciousness. Someone, somewhere, might recognize something.
The newscast included a brief interview with Charlotte. Her grief was raw, her plea for information heartbreakingly sincere. "I just want to understand," she said, tears in her eyes. "Who was this woman? What happened that night? My husband didn't have a history of heart problems. Something about that night… it doesn't add up."
My blood ran cold. She was questioning the official cause of death. She was looking for foul play, however unconsciously.
The news story also included a soundbite from Captain Reeves, offering the department's condolences but reiterating that the medical examiner's report indicated natural causes and that the case was closed unless new evidence emerged. He didn't mention Charlotte's suspicions of foul play, keeping it contained. But he knew now. The department knew Charlotte was questioning the official story.
The walls were not just closing in; they were being broadcast on the evening news. Charlotte's desperate gamble had just significantly raised the stakes, making the search for "Vivian" a public matter, and putting me, Detective Elise Blackwood, with my striking, intense eyes and my connection to the Coleman case, directly in the line of fire.