New Road

Sam Edwards walked into the autopsy room, and the morgue sent shivers down his spine. The sound of his footsteps reverberated against the sterile tiles.

He was determined to find answers and discover the truth. The doctor, dressed in a spotless white coat, greeted him with a solemn expression on his face.

"Mr. Lopez was shot in the head," the doctor stated solemnly, gesturing towards the body laid out on the cold metal slab.

Sam's gaze followed, his eyes immediately drawn to the gaping wound, a grim reminder of the violence that had claimed the man's life.

The doctors carefully looked over the body, and the clues became very clear. A bullet hole was in the skull, with burnt edges and little wounds around it, showing the gun was fired up close.

With methodical precision, the doctors peeled back the layers of flesh and bone, revealing the extent of the damage within. The bullet had carved a path of destruction through vital regions of the brain, leaving a wake of hemorrhaging and irreparable trauma. It was a merciless act, one that had extinguished life with brutal finality.

"This severe injury to the brain is what caused the death," the doctor confirmed, his voice laced with a professional detachment that belied the grim reality before them.

Toxicology reports were swiftly conducted, ruling out the influence of drugs or other substances as contributing factors. Mr. Lopez had been a healthy man, but his life was cut short

"Based on all the evidence, we've determined this was a homicide," the doctor declared, his words hanging heavily in the air.

Sam nodded, his mind already racing ahead, piecing together the fragments of this tragic puzzle. His reverie was interrupted by the doctor, who extended a weathered hand, proffering a small object.

"We found this film in Mr. Lopez's jacket," the doctor explained, his brow furrowed with curiosity.

Sam's eyes widened as he reached out, his fingers closing around the precious clue. "Can I see it?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Without hesitation, the doctor relinquished the film, and Sam felt a surge of relief coursing through his veins. This unexpected discovery could prove invaluable in his investigation.

Across town, Leo found himself enveloped in the flickering glow of a movie screen, his attention captivated by the unfolding drama. A bowl of popcorn lay forgotten in his lap as a sudden knock at the door shattered the tranquility of the moment.

Rushing to the entrance, Leo flung open the door, only to be met with the sight of Sophia, her face contorted with anguish, tears streaming down her cheeks. Instinctively, he ushered her inside, his heart constricting at the sight of her distress.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Sophia's body trembled, her sobs wracking her slender frame as she struggled to find the words. Finally, the truth spilled forth in a torrent of grief.

"He's gone," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "My dad... he was killed by a notorious gang."

Leo's eyes widened in disbelief, his expression morphing into one of profound sorrow. Without a moment's hesitation, he enveloped Sophia in a comforting embrace, offering what solace he could in the face of such an unfathomable tragedy.

As the movie played on, forgotten in the background, Leo gently guided Sophia to the couch, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. With a heavy heart, his words act as a soothing balm for Sophia's wounded spirit.

Hours passed, and as the night drew to a close, Sophia rose to her feet, her steps a little steadier, her spirit buoyed by Leo's unwavering support. With a whispered farewell, she ventured forth, returning to the sanctuary of her own home, where the echoes of memories past lingered like ghostly specters.

Sophia's mother slumbered peacefully, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that had consumed her daughter's world. Silently, Sophia padded into the living room, her fingers trailing along the spines of cherished photo albums that adorned the shelves.

One by one, she pored over the faded images, each snapshot a poignant reminder of happier times, when laughter had filled the air and love had been the guiding force that bound them together. Cradling the album against her chest, Sophia surrendered to the weight of her sorrow, drifting into a restless slumber where dreams and reality blurred.

In her subconscious realm, visions of her father danced before her eyes, vivid and fleeting, like wisps of smoke caught in the wind. She awoke with a start, her heart pounding, her brow beaded with perspiration. Stumbling to the bathroom, she splashed cool water against her flushed cheeks, seeking solace in the familiarity of routine.

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Sophia felt a flicker of relief – it was Saturday, a reprieve from the demands of school and the prying eyes of her peers. She retreated to the sanctuary of her bed, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Sam carefully examined the film he had obtained from Dr. Patterson.

He saw an image of what had happened at the scene, including a man's face and a moment when they were unloading containers with a horn logo printed on them.

While he could see one man's face clearly, the others were too blurry to make out. Frustrated, Sam screened and saved the clear image of the man's face on his laptop. He then called his wife and explained that he could only identify one person's face from the film. Sam downloaded the image and saved it onto a flash drive.

Sam wasted no time in seeking out the expertise of the technology team. With purposeful strides, he made his way to their domain,

"Paul," he called out, beckoning a young and eager technician towards him. "Can you help me locate the face on this flash drive?"

"Leave it to me, detective," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence.

Mere minutes ticked by, the hum of computers and the staccato clatter of keystrokes filling the air. Finally, Paul's triumphant voice cut through the silence.

"I've got him," he announced, his gaze fixed upon the laptop screen before him. "His name is Andre Cain and his criminal record is a doozy."

Sam leaned in, his eyes narrowing as the details of Andre's sordid past unfolded before him. The last known location glared at him like a beacon, beckoning him to give chase.

"Downtown," Paul affirmed, his voice grave. "One thousand five hundred kilometers from here."

Without a moment's hesitation, Sam was in motion, his footsteps propelling him towards his vehicle. The miles melted away beneath the relentless pursuit, and as the gritty underbelly of the downtown district loomed ahead, Sam steeled himself for the challenge that lay ahead.

The streets teemed with a motley crew of characters, each one more unsavory than the last.

Boys huddled in alleyways, their eyes glazed over by the allure of illicit substances. Gamblers clustered around makeshift tables, their voices mingling with the clink of coins and the rattle of dice.

And dotted throughout the seedy tapestry were the lurking figures of hookers, their painted smiles masking untold tales of desperation and survival.

A bedraggled figure caught his eye, her smeared makeup and tattered attire marking her as one of the many streetwalkers plying their trade.

Steeling himself, Sam rolled down the window and called out, "Hey, sweetheart. You know a guy named Andre Cain?"

The hooker sauntered over, her painted lips curling into a sultry sneer as she leaned into the car. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What's it worth to you, handsome?"

Sam peeled off a wad of bills, holding them up tantalizingly. "A thousand bucks for some information."

Her eyes widened momentarily, but she quickly regained her composure, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Never heard of him, sugar."

Sensing her deception, Sam remained rooted to the spot, the hooker abruptly spun on her heel and hurried away, her heels clicking rapidly against the cracked pavement.

Undeterred, Sam tailed her from a discreet distance, his eyes narrowed in grim determination.

She led him to the mouth of a nondescript alleyway, where two towering bouncers stood sentry, their bulging muscles rippling beneath their tight shirts.

As the hooker flashed them a coy smile, slipping past their outstretched arms, Sam seized his opportunity.

Striding forward with purpose, he was abruptly halted by a meaty palm slamming into his chest.

"Beat it, pig," one of the bouncers growled, his beady eyes boring into Sam with undisguised contempt.

Undaunted, Sam reached into his jacket and produced a menacing Benelli B76 shotgun, leveling it at the bouncer's head.

"I'm not leaving until I get some answers."

In a blur of motion, the bouncer slapped the weapon from Sam's grip, sending it clattering to the ground. Tensions escalated as the two brutes advanced, their fists clenched and jaws set in grim anticipation of violence.

"We don't take orders from cops around here," the shaved-headed bouncer sneered arrogantly.

The bouncers unleashed a barrage of punches towards Sam, who expertly dodged and blocked their strikes.

Sam retaliated with a swift right hook to the shaved-headed bouncer's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

He managed to defeat and render both bouncers unconscious, allowing him to enter the building.

Inside, Sam saw Andre Cain sitting on a couch, smoking a tobacco cigar. Just as Sam was about to apprehend Andre, two men attacked him.

A scuffle ensued, during which Andre surprisingly aided Sam by using his martial arts skills to subdue the assailants.

However, another man came from behind and struck Sam on the head with a baseball bat, causing him to lose consciousness and collapse to the ground.