Chapter 3: The Desperate Plea (Lauren POV)

Captain Rodriguez was behind his desk when Alex and I returned to his office, and his expression told me everything I needed to know before I even sat down. The empty evidence box documentation was spread across his desk like an accusation.

"Sir," I began, "the Valdez evidence has been confirmed missing. The box is completely empty."

"I can see that from Detective Henderson's report." Rodriguez leaned back in his chair, studying me with the same expression he probably used on suspects in interrogation. "What I'm struggling with is your explanation for how it disappeared."

I straightened in my chair. "The security footage clearly shows..."

"Detective James, I've reviewed that footage multiple times now. I see an empty room with some minor technical glitches in the video quality. Nothing more."

"It's not a glitch." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "There's a figure on that recording, clear as day, taking my evidence and walking through a solid wall."

Alex shifted uncomfortably beside me. "Captain, Detective James has been under enormous stress with this case. Maybe..."

"I know what I saw," I interrupted, turning to face Alex. "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there."

Rodriguez's phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID before silencing it. "Detective James, walk me through your theory again. You believe an intruder entered a locked, secure evidence room, stole specific items from your case, and then walked through a concrete wall to escape?"

"I know how it sounds, but..."

"How it sounds is like someone who's been working eighteen-hour days for months and has finally hit a breaking point."

I pulled out my phone and opened the video file I'd saved. "Sir, please, just look at this one more time. The timestamp shows 11:02 PM. Watch the area near shelf C-7."

Rodriguez took my phone and held it where both he and Alex could see the screen. I watched their faces as the footage played, the same footage where I could clearly see the dark figure moving through the evidence room.

"Empty room," Rodriguez said flatly.

"Some interference in the video signal," Alex added. "Probably electrical issues with the camera system."

I stared at them both, my heart sinking. "You honestly don't see anything? No movement, no figure, nothing?"

"Detective James," Rodriguez said, handing my phone back, "what I see is concerning static in a security recording and an officer who's apparently hallucinating intruders that don't exist."

The word 'hallucinating' hit me like a physical blow. I'd been a cop for seven years, built my reputation on solid detective work and attention to detail. Nobody had ever questioned my mental stability before.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm not hallucinating. Something took my evidence, and I have it on video."

"What you have is a recording of an empty room with technical problems." Rodriguez's voice was getting harder. "What you're describing, figures walking through walls, that's not police work, Detective. That's fantasy."

I looked at Alex, hoping for some support, but he was staring at his hands. "Alex, you were there. You saw how disturbed the evidence was, how the box had been rifled through..."

"The box was empty," Alex said quietly. "But I didn't see any signs of disturbance beyond that."

"Because whoever did this knew exactly what they were looking for!" I was starting to sound desperate and I knew it, but I couldn't stop. "They took only the murder weapon and the blood evidence, the two pieces that would have guaranteed conviction."

Rodriguez stood up and walked to his window, looking out at the empty parking lot. "Detective James, in twenty-three years on this force, I've seen officers crack under pressure before. It's not uncommon, and it's not something to be ashamed of."

"I'm not cracking under pressure."

"You're claiming to see invisible intruders on security footage. You're suggesting that evidence disappeared through supernatural means." He turned back to face me. "Detective, you're clearly suffering from extreme stress and paranoid delusions. I'm ordering you to undergo psychiatric evaluation immediately."

The words hit me like ice water. Psychiatric evaluation meant career suicide, even if I passed. The department would never trust my testimony again, never assign me to important cases. Everything I'd worked for would be gone.

"Captain, please, just look at the footage one more time..."

"I've seen it. It shows an empty room with some technical glitches. Nothing more."

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "Sir, I'm telling you that someone stole evidence from a locked room. Even if you can't see them on the recording, the evidence is still gone. That's a fact."

"The fact is that evidence is missing, yes. The fantasy is your explanation for how it disappeared." Rodriguez returned to his desk and picked up his phone. "I'm calling Dr. Morrison at Metropolitan General. She can see you first thing tomorrow morning."

"No." The word came out louder than I intended. "I won't be railroaded into a psych hold because I witnessed something you can't explain."

Rodriguez paused, his finger hovering over his phone. "Excuse me?"

I took a deep breath, my mind racing. The Henderson case, the Morrison investigation, the Blackwood murder, all had collapsed under similar circumstances. Evidence disappearing, witnesses recanting, cases falling apart overnight. And in each instance, I'd been the only one to notice the patterns that didn't make sense.

What if they weren't coincidences? What if there was something bigger happening, something that operated beyond normal perception?

"Captain," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "what if there are things happening in this city that operate outside normal investigative parameters? What if there are criminals using methods we don't understand?"

"Detective James..."

"Give me one week." The words came out in a rush. "Seven days to bring you concrete proof. If I can't, I'll submit to psychiatric evaluation and accept whatever treatment you recommend."

Rodriguez stared at me for a long moment. Alex was looking at me like I'd lost my mind, which maybe I had. But I knew what I'd seen, and I knew my evidence hadn't just vanished into thin air.

"You want a week to prove that invisible people are stealing evidence from locked rooms?"

"I want a week to investigate the disappearance of evidence from my case using any means necessary."

"Lauren," Alex said softly, "maybe you should consider the captain's recommendation. There's no shame in getting help when you need it."

I turned to look at him, this partner who'd been assigned to me six months ago right around the time my cases started falling apart. Alex Henderson, with his perfect alibis and his concerned expressions.

"I don't need help," I said. "I need time."

Rodriguez sat back down heavily in his chair. "One week, James. But you're suspended from active duty. And if you cause any disruption or embarrass this department, you're not just facing psychiatric hold, you're facing criminal charges."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. I nodded slowly, understanding the stakes. One week to prove I wasn't insane, or lose everything I'd worked for.

"Understood, sir."

"Your badge and weapon. You can have them back when you bring me something more substantial than ghost stories and video glitches."

I placed my badge and service weapon on his desk, feeling like I was surrendering pieces of my identity. Seven days to solve the impossible, or admit that I'd lost my mind.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Don't thank me yet," Rodriguez said grimly. "You've got one week to prove you're not having a nervous breakdown. I suggest you use it wisely."