The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era

Chapter 806: [THE SHADOW WITHIN] (XV)

LEWIS watched Victor Hale through the observation window. Hale sat upright in the interrogation room, his back straight against the chair and his hands resting on the table. At first glance, he looked calm, almost undisturbed by the situation. His face was unreadable, his breathing steady, and his back remained ramrod straight.

But Lewis could see past that.

Hale’s fingers were not as still as he wanted them to be. A slight tremor ran through them, small enough that most people would miss it. A thin line of sweat moved down the side of his face, even though the room was cool. His eyes stayed forward, but there was tension behind them.

He was nervous.

Lewis stayed by the observation window, watching.

They brought Hale in from the spaceport and put him straight into the interrogation room when they got to the police station. After that, they made him wait. Two hours had passed since then.

It was a common tactic. The longer a suspect sat alone, the more the pressure grew inside them. Silence made people think too much, go over things in their heads, and start doubting what they planned to say. By the time the questioning started, they were usually more likely to make a mistake.

But Hale had not broken. Even now, he still held himself together, like he had already expected this to happen and prepared for it.

Lewis narrowed his eyes slightly. He could not tell if Hale was forcing it or if he truly believed they had nothing on him. Then he thought back to the apartment, to the slip of paper hidden inside the book. That piece of evidence was the reason they had enough to bring Hale in.

=====

Lewis’ eyes widened as he stared at the slip of paper in front of him. He picked it up and read it carefully, going over every line to make sure he missed nothing.

The paper was worn at the edges, like it had been folded and unfolded more than once. Printed on it were a few short lines:

Blackline Exchange—Greyhaven Sector 3

Item Intake Record

Declared Item: Custom steel blade (single edge, modified spine)

Condition: Used

Client ID: V. Hale

Service Requested: Immediate liquidation—private listing

Handling Fee Paid

Lewis lowered the paper a little. Most payments were made through digital systems these days. Everything got tracked, recorded, and kept somewhere in the digital world. The only time someone used a physical receipt like this was when they did not want a digital record attached to their name. And that usually meant whatever they paid for was not legal.

He looked at Stevens. "You think the knife mentioned here is the one used in the murders?"

Stevens studied the paper for a moment before answering. "There is only one way to find out. We go to the place listed here. Based on the date, he brought it in yesterday. If we are fast enough, it might not have been processed yet."

Lewis gave a brief nod. He raised his Terminal and took a clear picture of the receipt. Stevens took the paper from him, placed it back inside the book, and returned the book to the shelf exactly where it had been. After that, they left the apartment.

They got back in the car, and Lewis drove fast. He did not waste any time. He pushed the vehicle through the streets as fast as he could, and they reached the address in less than twenty minutes.

The place was a pawnshop. From the outside, it looked worn down. The paint on the sign had faded, and parts of the structure looked like they had not been repaired in years. But the receipt made it clear that this place handled more than simple trades.

Lewis and Stevens stepped inside. The interior matched the outside. The lighting was dim, and the shelves were filled with random items that did not seem to belong together. A glass counter ran across the front, separating the customers from the one person behind it.

An old woman stood there. She looked up as they entered, her expression calm, almost friendly.

"What do you need?" she asked like an amiable old lady.

Lewis stepped forward and pulled up the image of the receipt on his Terminal. He turned the screen toward her. "This. Where’s the knife listed here?"

The change in her expression was immediate. The friendliness disappeared. In one quick motion, she reached below the counter and pulled out a rifle, bringing it up and pointing it directly at Lewis.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice no longer friendly.

Lewis did not move. Slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out his badge, holding it up where she could see it.

"Police," he said. "And you should think carefully about what you do next."

The woman’s grip on the rifle did not loosen.

Lewis kept his voice calm. "If you pull that trigger, this turns into an attempted murder of a police officer. You won’t just be in trouble for running an illegal shop. You’ll be looking at a much longer sentence, maybe decades in lockup. But if you help us, we can focus on what we came for. Whatever else is going on here, I’m willing to look the other way."

The old woman’s grip on the rifle did not loosen. Her eyes stayed fixed on Lewis, still suspicious.

"And how am I supposed to trust you?" she asked. "You’re a cop. Cops lie."

Lewis did not move. "I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m telling you how this goes. If I wanted to shut your shop down, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you right now. I’d have a team at your door and you’d be in cuffs already."

There was a brief pause. The woman stared at him, clearly weighing her options. Then, slowly, she lowered the rifle.

She reached for her Terminal and activated it. "Bring back the knife from yesterday," she said into the device. "The one listed for private sale."

She ended the call and put the Terminal down, muttering to herself. "Could have made a lot off that thing. With where it’s been used, people would line up to buy it."

Lewis heard that. His eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

The old woman looked up at him, her expression blank. "I don’t know what you mean."

Lewis clenched his jaw, ready to push harder. Then he felt a light touch on his elbow. He looked over at Stevens. The doctor gave a small shake of his head. He was telling him to ease off. Lewis knew he could not keep pressing. If he did, they might walk out of here with nothing.

Lewis exhaled slowly and stepped back.

A moment later, a younger man came out from the back room, carrying a rectangular box. He looked uneasy as he approached the counter.

The old woman gestured toward Lewis. "Give it to him."

The man hesitated, then handed over the box. Lewis took it and opened it.

Inside was a knife.

The blade was long and thin, with a sharp edge that narrowed to a very sharp tip. The back of the blade had been changed, shaped so the knife could cut deeper and with more control. The handle was plain and simple, made for a steady grip.

Lewis closed the box. Without another word, he turned and walked out. Stevens followed. They got back into the car, and this time, Lewis drove even faster. They headed straight for the coroner’s department.

=====

When they got to the coroner’s department, Vargas only spent half an hour to confirm that the knife was the same weapon that was used to cut the four dead victims, as well as Mercer. That was the only information they needed to release an arrest warrant for Victor Hale.

Stevens had suggested they go straight to the spaceport. He said Hale would not stay in the city once he realized his apartment had been searched. There were only a few ways out of Greyhaven, and the spaceport was the fastest. Lewis agreed, and they moved as soon as the confirmation came in.

They found Hale there, just as Stevens predicted.

Now, standing behind the one-way mirror, Lewis watched the man sit alone in the interrogation room.

His brows furrowed. "I still don’t get it."

Stevens, standing beside him, did not look away from the room. "Get what?"

"The receipt," Lewis said. "Why keep it? If he was careful enough to move the knife through a place like that, he should’ve known better."

"There is a high chance he expected to get a share once the knife was sold," Stevens said. "In places like that, a physical receipt can act as proof of ownership. Without it, he might not be able to claim anything."

Lewis let out a quiet breath. That made sense. It was not the most practical way to run things, but it fit with how a pawnshop like that might have operated.

After they left the pawnshop, Lewis contacted the station. He told the chief to send officers to watch the place. They would need statements, and maybe more than that. Both of them had heard what the old woman muttered when she handed over the knife. It was not proof of anything yet, but it suggested the pawnshop might be involved in more than just small illegal trades. Possibly handling items that could be sold to the right buyers for a high price. In short, an illegal auction.

A weapon tied to a series of killings would definitely fetch a high price in that kind of market.

Lewis shifted his gaze back to Hale. The man still sat there, trying to hold himself together. Lewis glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s time. Then he turned and headed for the interrogation room.