The ashes made me

At noon, a bustling city Plaza simmered under the brutal summer sun. Despite the sweltering heat, a restless crowd had gathered in the main square. Murmurs and camera clicks filled the air, but all eyes were fixed on the scene ahead. Three bodies lay sprawled on the pavement, soaked in blood. A wide perimeter had been cordoned off, with dozens of uniformed officers working to hold the growing crowd at bay. Cutting through the chaos with swift, confident strides came a tall woman in heels, strikingly beautiful with a perfect figure. She ducked under the yellow tape and stepped inside the cordon to inspect the scene. “Captain Zoey!” one of the officers called out. Zoey, the youngest Captain in the City’s Criminal Investigation Division, was more than a prodigy, she was a legend in the making. Cool under pressure, dangerously smart, and undeniably stunning, she’d earned the nickname "Hotshot." But everyone who worked under her knew well enough never to underestimate her. Zoey's eyes swept across the scene, her frown deepening. “What is going on?” The officer's voice broke the silence, his voice tumbling out in a rush. “Triple homicide, Captain. The victims are big-name actors—real A-listers around here. Forensics say they all died instantly with a single shot to the forehead.” Zoey frowned. “All with one bullet? Were they standing in a line?” “That’s the weird part,” he muttered grimly. “They weren’t. The bodies were scattered in different angles, but the bullet hit all three. Forensics swear the trajectory bent mid-air.” Zoey raised an eyebrow. “A bullet that bends? Are we solving crimes or filming sci-fi now? Bullets don’t bend.” “I thought the same, Captain. But this is our fourth forensic team. They all came to the same conclusion.” Zoey's body tensed, and her expression grew grave. “You’re telling me someone fired a bullet that curved mid-air and killed three people in one shot?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But there’s something worse…” Zoey's frown deepened, staring him over in uncertainty. “The three male actors killed in this case are currently the city’s most popular celebrities. The media has already started tracking the story… and…” The officer lowered his head suddenly, not daring to continue. Zoey's stomach dropped. If the victims had been three regular people, the public outcry might not have been so intense. But this time, the dead were the top three male stars in the city. The media would surely hound the police, creating enormous pressure to solve the case. If mishandled, it could lead to a massive shake-up in the police department. At the top of that list would be her—the captain of the criminal investigation unit... “What else? Speak up!” Zoey snapped. The officer gritted his teeth. “The commissioner just gave an order. We have three days to solve the case!” “Three days?!” Zoey's voice rose, breathless. How was that even possible?! A case this serious, solving it within a month would already be a miracle. Three days? Not even Detective Gerald and his assistant Taylor could manage that! Irritated and restless, Zoey’s eyes swept the scene—then froze. A casually dressed man crouched beside one of the bodies, just inside the police tape. A backpack dangled from one shoulder as he poked at the bullet casings like a kid solving a puzzle. Zoey’s eyes narrowed. How the hell did he get in here? Did he slip past during the chaos? Or had one of the rookies let him through without checking credentials? “Who the hell is that?” she snapped. The surrounding officers turned to look, and sure enough, an unfamiliar man was crouched near the corpses. He looked to be in his early twenties, intently examining the bullet casings on the ground. “Hey!” Zoey barked. “Stand up. Hands where I can see them!” The man didn’t flinch. Zoey’s fingers curled around her holster. She drew her gun and took a step forward, voice steely. “Last warning. Hands. Up.” The young man raised his hands slowly, then turned to flash her a charming smile. “Easy there, pretty lady. I’m just a concerned citizen.” Zoey’s eyes narrowed. Pretty lady? Did this i***t think he was flirting at a murder scene? Her voice iced over. “Concerned citizens don’t crawl over homicide victims.” She gave a curt nod. “Cuff him. Check his ID.” Two officers moved fast, snapping cuffs on his wrists and digging through his backpack. One of them pulled out a leather wallet and handed it over. Zoey figured someone capable of committing such a serious crime must be a repeat offender with a criminal record… If this young man had a record, he could be the suspect! Case solved instantly? Who needs three days? A warmth spread over Zoey's chest at the thought of herself being praised by her superiors… “Roland Smith. Twenty-three years old…” Zoey scanned his ID… and it showed no criminal record. Her hopes dropped along with every picture she had painted in her head. Roland seemed to read her mind. He shook his head helplessly. “Tell me, why would a killer remain at the crime scene after murder? Even an i***t wouldn't think like that, unless they're desperate to find fault in the innocent.” “Careful with your words,” Zoey's eyes narrowed. She had originally intended to let the guy go after a quick questioning. But this guy indirectly called her an i***t. Unforgivable! She was a famous Captain with impressive records of solving the most difficult criminal cases. Zoey snorted coldly. “If you’re not the killer, then what are you doing sneaking around the corpses?” Roland exhaled. “You officers, always asking many questions,” he muttered with a shrug. “Fine—I’ll be nice and throw you a bone. Ever heard of laser-guided bullets?” Zoey stiffened. Roland sighed and continued, “The one used here was an FX23 smart round. Ten-point-one-six centimetres long. Comes with internal sensors, a guidance chip, power source, control fins, and stabilizing wings. Like a missile in bullet form, it tracks the target via laser and changes direction up to fifty times per second with almost one hundred percent hit rate!” Zoey was speechless. That wasn’t something the average civilian should know—hell, most officers didn’t even have clearance for that kind of intel. Only elite military units or high-level black ops used that tech. And yet here this guy was, rattling off specs like he’d just walked out of a weapons lab. “You know way too much,” she said coldly. “That makes you our top suspect. Take him in. I’ll question him myself.” Roland raised his hands again. “Whoa, whoa! I just gave you a critical lead. Now you’re arresting me?” Zoey let out a cold snort. “You think dropping classified intel makes you a hero?” She snapped. “You knew about the weapon. You’re at the scene. You bypassed a secured perimeter. You’re coming with us for a thorough interrogation.” “I’m innocent!” Roland protested as officers forcefully escorted him into a nearby police car. As Roland was shoved into the vehicle, a younger officer hesitated nearby. “Captain,” he said cautiously, “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? I don't think he's the killer.” Zoey furrowed her eyebrows. “Are you questioning my instincts…” “What, no, never! I… I'm only saying that he helped us. Gave us the biggest clue so far. And we’re locking him up like a criminal? Doesn’t feel right.” Zoey gave him a death glare. “And how do you know it’s not reverse psychology? The least likely suspect’s usually the real one. Sherlock Holmes said that.” “Yes, Captain!” the officer barked, standing at attention. Just then, another officer came running over, pale and panicked. “Captain! Roland’s gone. He slipped out of the car and left a note!” Zoey frowned, snatched the paper from his hands. Drawn on it was a cartoonish bust, scribbled with the words: “36D, xdwn!” Zoey blinked once. Then twice. This i***t thought this was funny? She crushed the paper, seething. “I want every damn patrol on this! Flip the city upside down if you have to. He’s mine!”