Chapter 1 - Knightfall

Vlax doesn't realize just how long he spends pouring over numbers, but when he's able to have his breakthrough it all feels worth it.

He went back over years worth of monthly dates, but over the course of four and a half hours he is finally able to establish one constant -- the only apartment that paid rent on every date listed in the small notebook that was in the safe.

Apartment 8A. Kimberly Hale is listed as the tenant. Has been for over a decade.

Vlax heads to 8A. Unfortunately, there is no answer. There is, however, a small note that appears to have been taped to the wall next to the door a long time ago:
I work nights, and sleep days. Please do not disturb.

Thank you.

A quick glance at his watch verifies it's almost 3:00pm. It also makes him realize how hungry he is.

There's a Denny's a handful of blocks away. It doesn't take them long to fill the order, and Vlax is back to the scene of the crime -- in this instance, more literally than metaphorically. People come and go. Cars pass. Crows seem to like the area though.

At no point does Vlax see the imposter from the early hours.

Just after six, Vlax will have a patrol car swing by and Rodgers and Smith -- back on shift, and both frankly looking like shit -- have some information.

"It gets weird," Rodgers tells Vlax. "The super, Schmidt, the real one... died peacefully in his bed from having no blood in his body. Not a mark on him. Doc said it was just like nobody filled his tank.

Anyway, I'm on three hours sleep. Smith is on five. We're gonna grab coffee before we start patrolling, but radio if you need us Detective."

With that, the two roll out leaving the detective to his vigil.

No answer (and no calls, according to dispatch) at 6:30. Or 7:30. Or 8:30. Hell, the business card is still in the doorjamb where he left it. At 9:30, when he knocks on the door to 8A, a woman's voice calls, "Just a minute!"

It takes a few minutes, but Vlax hears a deadbolt unlock... then another deadbolt... then the door opens -- still held by a chain. A rather petite woman stands in the gap to the door. She's wearing a bathrobe and slippers, her brunette hair pulled back into something resembling a bun. A pair of glasses sit perched on her nose, and she looks up at the detective.

"May I help you?"