Ghost Luna

2. coincidences

New York had always had a high crime rate. Inhumane murders were always attributed to gang warfare and Mafia ties. Revenge and greed is what made the cities underbelly thrive. The recent spate of murders had been more gruesome than previously experienced. They were brutal, animalistic, deranged. Only men had been attacked. Though shock and panic was the initial response from the public when photos made it to the press or leaked on social media, the eventual revelation of criminal activity condeemed the victims to a life of animosity and usually no justice. Who really cares about violent criminals meeting a violent end? And so the savagery of these deaths had the advance of having a blind eye turned. Let the criminals deal with their own.

Lane knew this was just like the others. She rationalised. All the scenes she had been recently called out to had been on a full moon. The full moon did crazy things to people. She had read once that all around the world crime rates spiked. Strange coincidence.

Just as it was a strange coincidence that she thought she recognised Derick from the night club she had frequented the night before.

It hadn't been much of a meeting. More a passing moment. She had been at the bar and a drink had been slid towards her. Looking up from her phone at the time, she caught the eyes of a ruggedly handsome man with piercing blue eyes. He held up his own and nodded for her to accept.

Lane smiled back. Nodded her head. Took the drink and headed straight to a potted plant out of sight. She wasn't stupid. Pouring the drink in the thirsty pot plant she had moved on. The night had been uneventful and she hadn't seen him the rest of the night.

Well until now.

With a last dry retch Lane stabilised herself and adjusted her overalls. She tucked her short pixie cut hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. She must look like a withered lily but she had to return to the site and hand in her data to the lead forensic officer. He would chew her out knowing she left the scene without permission.

The crowds had stated to dissipate as the night grew darker. Finding the white, makeshift tent, Lane shuffled through the flap opening.

Inside Toby was hunched over a table with various trays. His dark brows were furrowed and his loose golden brown curls were atop his head in apparent protest. He looked tired and harrased. This was not going to be easy.

"You're late. Come here and start documenting these trays," he barked without even looking up.

Lane fumbled for her camera and wordlessly made her way through the belongings. They must have taken the man off the street lamp and begun sorting the items.

A Rolex watch - it looked real. The details and quality were apparent.

A pin of rolled large bills.

A lighter.

A wallet.

It was midnight black leather with no obvious markings. It had gold stitching that lined the edges.

"Here, photo the contents." Toby opened the wallet and pulled out the cards inside.

Lane paused to catch her breath.

Toby stiffened then raised his head for the first time and gave Lane a quizical look. His eye brow was arched as he sized up Lanes reaction with his honey eyes. If only they weren't so hard and cold, Toby would be breath taking.

"Something wrong Lane?"

"N- n-no, sir...I just thought I saw a mark on my camera." Obviously not convinced Toby held his apprasing eyes for a moment too long for comfort.

Lane cleared her throat and began taking pictures and tried to keep her face neutral.

Using the zoom of her lense she documented the details on the cards.

DERRICK NEWMAN - NEW YORK - DRIVING LICENCE.

Coincidence, Lane chanted to herself.