Death on 14th february : Seeing him again

"My guess is the victim committed suicide," Gerald said to a short-haired woman in a bomber jacket. "I already checked the fifth floor. A piece of the victim's shirt was caught on some rebar, and there are shoe prints on the stairs. I think he jumped from there before landing on the ground floor."

"Do we have an ID on the victim?" Keya asked.

"The victim's name is Nick Anthonius Harrison, thirty-nine years old. Married, and he owns a real estate company, NH Corporation. He was found two hours ago by a young man over there." Gerald jerked his chin toward the other side of the building.

A young man sat on a folding chair, his face ghostly pale. He had a shaved head and tan skin, and wore an orange jumpsuit.

"He works here?" Keya asked, glancing over.

"He's just a freelancer the building owner hired for cleanup. His name is Jackson Kendrick."

"I'll get his statement later," Keya said, still studying Jackson.

Gerald raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. "Why not now? He's been asking to go home since we got here."

"He looks nervous, Gerald."

Keya swept her gaze across the front of the abandoned building. Her eyes landed on a sedan parked beside it. She walked toward the metallic gray car.

"That's the victim's car," Gerald said, following her.

"Have you checked it? Find anything?" Keya asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and opening the car door.

"I found a wallet with cash and the victim's ID still inside. There's a laptop and car keys inside too."

Keya leaned in. She bent forward until half her body was inside the car. Her hands moved over the dashboard, a few folders lying on the passenger seat, and a coffee cup in the cup holder.

She gave the cup a slight turn. Her brows knit together when she spotted something tiny and glittering, but only on one side of the cup.

"Glitter?" Keya murmured. She pulled herself out of the car and turned to her partner. "What about the victim's phone?"

Gerald froze. "You're right. The victim's phone is missing."

"It's the digital age, Gerald. A businessman like him wouldn't just forget his phone. We need to find that phone. Search around the building, or check the car again."

Gerald nodded and climbed back into the car. Keya tilted her head up to take in the five-story building. It still looked solid, even with the concrete gone dull with age. Construction had stopped seven years ago for reasons unknown.

Such a waste, especially with a location this good, boxed in by skyscrapers on every side. Keya decided to step inside. The smell of rust hit her nose. The floor was dusty and clearly home to creatures that liked the damp.

Today was February fourteenth. People called it a day full of love and romance. Not for Keya, who was wrapped up in a death investigation instead.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hans," Keya called out when she spotted a man standing with his hands on his hips near the body.

Hans turned to see Keya walking toward him, smiling. He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "There's no such day on my calendar, Key. Can we focus on the victim now?"

Keya chuckled. She planted her hands on her hips too, her eyes tracing over the body lying flat on the ground. The victim's eyes were still open, his gray shirt stained with brown marks, and dried blood had seeped out from the back of his head.

"Judging by the rigor mortis, the victim died about four to five hours ago." Keya let out a long breath. "This building belongs to a wealthy family, right? The Harrisons own the biggest real estate company. Poor guy. Dying on Valentine's Day."

Hans clicked his tongue in irritation. "Forget about Valentine's Day, Key. This building might belong to the victim himself."

"That makes sense," Keya said, pausing for a moment. "The victim started his own real estate company. No wonder construction here stalled. The owner had already moved on to something else."

"Anyway, take a look at the body, Key. Something's off."

Keya lowered herself slowly until she was crouched beside the body. She swept her gaze over the stiff form again. Her brow furrowed when she noticed the victim's lips had turned blue, with a faint brownish stain on one side.

"Is this cyanosis? There's a tear here too." Keya paused. "Someone who fell from the fifth floor, with the back of his skull practically shattered ... why would he show signs of suffocation before he died?"

Keya's hands moved to examine other parts of the body. She stopped again when she pushed back the victim's long sleeve. "There's bruising and swelling on his wrist. There's dirt under his nails too."

Using a pair of tweezers, Keya worked to pry something black out from under the nails of the victim's right hand. She wiped it gently and brought it close enough to catch a faint smell.

"This is fresh dirt. Where would that come from? Could the victim have gone across the street? I saw a small park over there."

"No way," Hans said, holding out a tablet for her to see. "I already pulled the security footage from around the site. The victim arrived at eleven at night and went straight in here."

Hans tapped the middle of the screen to play a video. They watched closely as a sedan pulled up and parked in front of the abandoned building they were now standing in. Nick, alive and in a hurry, rushed inside. He was practically jogging.

"The victim needs an autopsy," Keya said, turning back to the body. "Hans, find the family now. Make sure we get their permission to do the autopsy. I'm going to talk to Jackson Kendrick outside."

The two of them rose and stepped away from the body. Keya walked out and approached the young man across from the building. He was holding a bottle of water, arms crossed over his chest.

"Mr. Jackson Kendrick," Keya said, and the young man's head snapped up. She held out her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm Detective Harold. I have a few questions for you."

Jackson took her hand hesitantly. "Is there something else you need to know, Detective?"

"There is," Keya said, holding his gaze steadily. Jackson rubbed the back of his neck, pressing his lips into a thin smile. "Can you tell me why you're here?"

"It's my scheduled day to clear weeds … and trash … from the building grounds," Jackson said.

"Why did you go inside the building? That's not part of your job."

"I just wanted to say hi to the owner," Jackson said, then went still when Keya kept her eyes fixed on him. He gave a short laugh, hand rubbing his neck again. "I saw a car parked outside. I figured the owner had come by, so I went in ... to say hi."

Keya narrowed her eyes. "Sounds like you're pretty close with Nick. The owner."

Jackson's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "Who's that? The owner of this building is Raiden Harrison."

"What?"