The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era

Chapter 797: [THE SHADOW WITHIN] (VI)

THE new victim’s name was Adrian Calder, thirty-five years old.

Lewis had read the file several times in the days since the body was identified. Adrian lived alone in a narrow apartment above a stationery shop on Marlow Street. There was no record of parents or siblings in the city, and the case notes suggested he had spent most of his childhood moving between group homes.

Medical records showed he had been diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder in his late twenties. The condition meant he likely struggled with social connections and held unusual beliefs or perceptions. People with this disorder often came across as odd or eccentric to others. They tended to have few close relationships and had trouble understanding social cues or how their behavior affected people around them. Some developed paranoid thoughts or believed in special powers like telepathy.

By the time Adrian reached adulthood, he had settled into a quiet routine that rarely changed.

Adrian worked as a records clerk at a small insurance office downtown. The job suited him well. His coworkers said he liked work that did not require much talking and had clear steps he could follow the same way every day. He spent most of his time sorting documents and keeping the company’s files organized. Everything had to be in the right order. Labels needed to line up neatly. At the end of each day, he closed the drawers in the same sequence before leaving. If someone moved a file or put something in the wrong place, Adrian would fix it quietly and go back to what he was doing.

Some people at the office thought he was strange. Adrian almost never joined in on conversations and spent most of his breaks alone. But he never caused problems, and his work was always done right. The archives stayed clean and organized because of him. His supervisor said he was dependable, even if he kept to himself.

Adrian had also been attending therapy sessions at Greyhaven Central Hospital for several years. That was the detail that first made Lewis stop and pay attention.

The autopsy confirmed that he had been killed by the same person who murdered Miranda Kessler. The forensic similarities were too specific to ignore. From the drugs found in the victim’s body to how the heart was taken out while the victim was still alive. So, it’s natural that Dr. Vargas had been confident in the conclusion she arrived at. So, Adrian Calder officially became the second victim.

Once Lewis placed the two files side by side, the similarities became clear. Both victims lived alone. Both managed their own lives despite their mental health conditions. And both had been patients at Greyhaven Central Hospital. These details meant something. They pointed to the kind of people the killer was choosing.

The killer was choosing people who would not be missed right away. Both victims lived alone and kept to themselves. They had no close family checking on them, no partners waiting at home. Their routines were quiet and predictable. They were the kind of people who could disappear for days before anyone noticed. And both had psychological conditions that brought them to Greyhaven Central Hospital as patients. The killer was clearly targeting people connected to that place.

For a while, Lewis thought the hospital might lead him straight to the killer. He spent days chasing that idea. He talked to receptionists, nurses, therapists, and the people who handled hospital records. He went through appointment logs and watched footage from the building’s cameras. He asked the same questions over and over, waiting for someone to slip up or say something that did not fit.

But nothing came of it. No one slipped up. No detail stood out. Every person he interviewed gave answers that fit together. Every log matched what the staff said. The footage showed nothing unusual. The hospital was clean, at least on data and on camera.

No one at the hospital could recall Adrian and Miranda ever meeting. Their appointments fell on different days of the week. They saw different doctors for their sessions. Nothing in their records showed any connection between them while they were alive.

By the seventh day after Adrian’s body was found, Lewis still had nothing that could move the case forward.

He knew that the chief was getting impatient for results already. If he didn’t get any results soon, he might be kicked off this case. But no matter how much he investigated, he still couldn’t find anything.

Then, on the ninth day after Adrian Calder’s body was found, another body turned up.

***

The lights in the coroner’s wing cast a cold white glow over everything. Detective Lewis stood next to one of the metal tables and looked down at the body under the lamp.

The third victim was a woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. The autopsy had already been completed by the looks of the body. The long stitch running down the center of her torso was clearly visible, dark thread pulling the skin together in a careful line. Beneath it was the space where her heart had been removed.

The third victim’s name was Naomi Rivas. Twenty-six years old. The tech division had confirmed her identity earlier before Lewis went to the coroner’s department. Their work became much faster. So, her background had arrived in Lewis’ inbox less than an hour later after the body was discovered. He had read through it on the way here.

Naomi had grown up in state care after losing her parents when she was very young. The file listed several foster placements over the years, though none of them lasted long enough to become permanent. By the time she reached adulthood, she had learned to manage on her own. No immediate relatives appeared anywhere in the record.

Another section of the report described her diagnosis with Bipolar Disorder, a condition she had been managing for several years through medication and regular counseling. The treatment records showed that she had attended therapy sessions at Greyhaven Central Hospital, the same facility that appeared in the files of the previous two victims.

Unlike them, Naomi’s work involved constant interaction with people. She had been employed at a café near the river district, where she worked behind the counter preparing drinks and serving customers. Her manager described her as lively and quick during busy hours, someone who could keep up with long lines and impatient customers without losing her composure. There were occasional periods when she requested time off, but she always returned to her shifts once things settled again.

Lewis looked down at the stitched line across her torso. Vargas stood across the table, scrolling through the autopsy report.

Lewis finally spoke. "Tell me the cause of death."

Vargas exhaled slowly. "The toxicology results show the same sedative we found in Miranda Kessler and Adrian Calder. Same compound. Same general dosage."

Lewis glanced at the body again. "And the rest?"

"The incision pattern is consistent. The heart was removed the same way, and the tissue damage indicates the procedure happened while she was still alive."

Lewis’ expression remained still. "So there’s no doubt it’s the same culprit."

"None," Vargas replied. "Same method. Same drug. Same surgical approach. Whoever did this killed all three of them."

Lewis stared at the table for a moment longer, the quiet hum of the refrigeration units filling the space around them.

Then his Terminal began to ring.

He opened it and checked the screen. The caller ID showed the chief’s number.

***

Lewis slowed as he approached the chief’s office. The door was already half open, and voices from inside had gone quiet by the time he reached it. He pushed it the rest of the way and stepped into the room.

His steps almost stopped.

The chief was standing behind his desk, but he was not alone. Another man sat in the chair across from him. Lewis recognized him immediately, though he had only seen the man once before.

The man rose from his seat as Lewis entered. He was slender, his posture straight without appearing stiff. His black hair was styled neatly. Behind a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, his black eyes curved gently, giving the impression of quiet patience. He wore a plain white polo shirt tucked into black trousers. Everything about him appeared clean and composed, like a man who paid attention to small details without drawing attention to himself.

It was Dr. Stevens.

Lewis stopped a few steps inside the room, his confusion evident as his gaze shifted from the doctor to the chief.

"I thought you wanted to see me about the third victim," he said.

The chief gestured toward the chair beside Stevens. "I did. Sit down."

Lewis remained standing for a moment longer, still trying to understand why a psychiatrist from Greyhaven Central Hospital was sitting inside the chief’s office in the middle of an active homicide investigation. He eventually took the seat but kept his eyes on the doctor.

The chief folded his arms across his chest.

"The department has decided to bring in a consultant for this case," he said. "Someone who understands the kind of people our victims were."

Lewis’ gaze moved slowly back to him. "You’re assigning a hospital psychiatrist to a murder investigation."

"Not just any psychiatrist," the chief replied. "Dr. Stevens previously worked as a consultant on a serial killing case in the city where he lived before. His insight proved useful during that investigation. Now that he’s working at Greyhaven Central Hospital, which all three of our victims were connected to, the department believes his expertise might help us understand the pattern behind these killings."

Lewis blinked once as the chief finished speaking. The information caught him off guard.

He had expected the chief to say that Dr. Stevens was being brought in because he worked at the hospital where all three victims had been treated. Someone who knew their conditions, who understood their treatment, could offer useful insight.

But Dr. Stevens being a consultant on a previous serial killing case was not something Lewis had anticipated.

His eyes moved back to the doctor.

The other’s calm demeanor made more sense now. If he had already stood in the middle of an investigation like this before, that could explain why he looked so composed.

Still, something did not sit right with Lewis. The way Stevens held himself, the way he answered, it all felt too controlled. Lewis could not say exactly what bothered him, just that it stayed there in the back of his mind.

Before he could consider it any further, Stevens turned toward him.

The doctor smiled, the same gentle expression returning to his face as his eyes curved slightly behind the silver-rimmed glasses. "I look forward to working with you, Detectiive Lewis."