Chapter 8

Aiden rang the intercom at the gate, taking in the relatively big estate on the other side. A huge white mansion with decorative marble columns peeked from behind lush rose gardens and a gravel driveway with three cars, betraying Patrick Cleveland's taste for classical style.

How could an ex-cop afford this?

"Mr. Kesley, welcome," Patrick Cleveland said, glancing up from his laptop with a professional smile when the security guard announced Aiden. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, his black hair and beard both styled in a way that complimented his rotund face.

Aiden returned the gesture as he sat on the indicated chair. Plants and statues of various sizes filled up the space, creating the impression of an exotic greenhouse. Minus the humidity.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Mr. Cleveland," Aiden offered, accepting the glass of water the guard brought over. "I won't take much of your time."

Smiling again, Cleveland closed his laptop and slid it to the side, lacing his hands together on top of the marble tabletop. "That's no issue at all. I'm always happy to help a criminal journalist. Which case did you have questions about?"

Aiden took a sip from his water, then fished out his tablet from the bag. He'd twisted the truth of who he was and why he was here, so he needed to maintain the lie or he doubted Cleveland was going to cooperate. After all, Aiden's rather… explosive behavior toward police officers at the time had made the rounds to more than a few precincts.

"It's about Claudia DuLaurent's case from two years ago," Aiden said, keeping his voice as detached and steady as he could.

Cleveland furrowed his brow slightly, giving Aiden a hard look. His neutral smile dropped too, replaced by a wary one.

"I believe you'd have seen the statements already. There isn't really much more I can say."

"I… no. That's not what I am after."

Aiden loaded the photos he had of the autopsy room and ran Cleveland through the discrepancy he'd discovered. Cleveland listened intently, his eyes bouncing between the pictures. His shoulders tensed a little and his eyebrows twitched every now and then, both things not particularly obvious if Aiden hadn't been paying attention to the man's body language.

"This is indeed strange," Cleveland agreed, scratching the side of his jaw. His leg was bouncing under the table, partially visible when Aiden leaned forward to pour himself more water from the glass jug. "Though I'm also curious to know how you got your hands on the autopsy video…"

"I don't snitch on my informants." Aiden smiled. "I'm sure you understand. Besides, a still from the procedure is all I have, actually. It's how I noticed the missing vents."

"Right. Well, I'm afraid I can't help you much with that. You are better off following up with the morgue." Cleveland handed the tablet back to Aiden and cleared his throat. "It's probably a glitch, so I'm not sure it's worth your time."

Believable, had Aiden not thoroughly checked that already. It wasn't a glitch or some kind of a mistake in the records.

"Just one last thing," he said as he stood up. He turned around sharply, witnessing Cleveland mostly managing to suppress a flinch. "About the vent. Do you remember if it was there when you delivered Claudia's body?"

Cleveland swallowed hard, eyebrows bunching together either in thought or because he didn't appreciate Aiden's prodding. "It was a long time ago, Mr. Kesley. I'm afraid I don't recollect." He smiled, this one contorted and looking more like a snarl. "I didn't linger after I signed it off."

Aiden couldn't really argue, because Cleveland was right—people wouldn't normally remember such details as the vents in a room. "Of course, but, if you remember anything that might help me… clear up this confusion, I'd appreciate it if you gave me a call."

"I'm sure it's likely just a glitch in the recording, like I said," Cleveland insisted, his eyes crinkling in the corners from a stiff smile. "But if I think of anything, I will contact you. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Kesley."

It wasn't a glitch. That kind of thing just didn't really happen much anymore. So, then, had the body been moved to another morgue without that being reflected anywhere? Aiden contemplated asking, but he doubted Cleveland would tell him the truth, so he thanked the man and headed back to Europa.

Cleveland had been twitchy. Nervous. As soon as Aiden had brought up Claudia's name. Why? The case had been a very challenging one, that was true, but Cleveland was a trained police officer, so that shouldn't have affected him.

Watching Atlan's scenery blur past him, Aiden shot PI Deverson a text.

Aiden:There was something off about Cleveland. I need his file ASAP.

PI Deverson:I was just about to send it to you. There's some… interesting things. I've highlighted them. Let me know if you want me to dig deeper.

PI Deverson forwarded the findings over the encrypted software they used. Nothing in particular stood out in Cleveland's career until Claudia's murder, which was where the PI's highlights began.

The first one was Cleveland's… date of retirement, February 10th, 2103. Two days after he'd discovered Claudia's body. Considering Cleveland was in his mid-thirties, it was a little strange to retire so young, but then again, the ex-officer seemed to be quite well-off. If Aiden was to take that into account as well as Cleveland's behavior today, then it wasn't all that surprising that he'd resigned since he didn't even really need a job. So that made sense.

Until it didn't, a further page in.

"What the…" Aiden glared at the first highlight. Then he swiped forward until he came across the next one, which only made things even more confusing. "This can't be right." Frantic, he pulled out his phone and video called the PI.

"Mr. Kesley, I take it you got to the interesting part," PI Deverson said, waving someone out of his office. His dark brown eyes remained untouched by the smile that slid on his face, staying focused on the screen.

Aiden pressed his lips in a line and read through the indicated paragraphs again. "Are you sure this is correct? It's—"

"Impossible, yes." PI Deverson swiveled in his chair and produced a data chip from somewhere, holding it up for Aiden to see. "I had my guys check the surveillance's metadata and everything. The footage is authentic. Patrick Cleveland was indeed staying at the Baroque Hotel on Earth with his friends from the fifth until the ninth."

"No but, that… It's his signature on the body hand-off report from February 8th," Aiden argued, trying to come up with an explanation as to how a man could have been both on Earth and Mars at the same time.

He couldn't. Because it was impossible unless Cleveland hadn't been the one to take the body to the morgue.

Aiden studied PI Deverson's recount of the hotel footage's contents again. Why would Cleveland lie about it if it had been someone else who'd handled Claudia's body? On the report and to Aiden, in his face?

"I can see we are on the same page already," PI Deverson said, tapping his fingers against his bearded chin. "You are correct; it's his signature on the report. Officially, he's the one who took the body to the morgue."

Cold shivers surged down Aiden's spine. His breathing elevated. "Cleveland couldn't have been at the Lecart Morgue on Mars if we have footage of him in a hotel on Earth…" He frowned, staring at the file again as he flexed and unflexed his fingers. He took a deep breath. "Are you saying the police forged the report? Why?"

"No idea. However, there is one other thing. His abrupt retirement."

Aiden nodded. "Probably decided working was too much effort. He's got money."

"He didn't. That is until his retirement after Claudia's body was found. Cleveland's assets prior to that amounted to a two-bed condo on Mars."

Tension pulsing in his head, Aiden checked the files, which confirmed PI Deverson was right. This made no sense. Why would a police officer lie about a body and then retire and buy a mansion he shouldn't have been able to afford? Where did the money come from?

Glaring at the tablet, Aiden read on, searching for the missing piece. But instead of finding it, he stumbled upon something even more confusing, a single sentence that made his brain feel like it was about to implode.

On February 4th at 8:45 p.m., Patrick Cleveland visited the DuLaurent Corporation's Headquarters.

"What the Hell? This makes no fucking sense. What was Cleveland doing visiting Marcus four days before Claudia was even found dead!?"

"Those are all great questions, Mr. Kesley, but I'm afraid I can't offer any answers yet. Just more questions."

Aiden wanted to scream. To punch something. He felt nauseous and disoriented, like the rug had been pulled from under his feet and he'd hit his head on the way down. Whatever was going on here, it ran deep. Deeper than he'd assumed it ever would.

"Prioritize Cleveland. And keep me posted. I want to know why he lied and what he was doing at the DuLaurent's HQ."

PI Deverson offered a sympathetic smile. "I'll do my best, Mr. Kesley. This level of involvement... It will be tricky, but I'll get to the bottom of it. I promise I'll call you as soon as I have something."

Aiden clicked off and glared at the lines across his palms. Just what was going on? Why was Claudia's case turning from strange to truly bizarre? The police… was having their officers potentially forging reports. Cleveland hadn't been the one to take Claudia's body to the Lecart morgue. So who'd done it then? And more importantly, knowing what Aiden knew now, had his fiancée's body even been taken to that morgue to begin with? If not, where and why?

Groaning from the sharp pain that assaulted his head, Aiden popped two anxiety pills into his mouth. He needed them if he was to survive the flight back to Europa. February 4th was the day of Claudia's arrival to Mars. Why had Cleveland visited the DuLaurent's HQ on that same date? There was a connection there, there had to be, a thread leading to the answers Aiden needed so he could lay Claudia to rest and move on with his life.

He just had to find it.