The office no longer felt like just a workplace. The names on the whiteboard were no longer lines and dates. Now they were printed faces, small fragments of lives unclaimed.
Novak sat, rubbing his eyes.
"Twelve people," he said quietly. "And probably more."
Volkov didn't reply. He was staring at an enlarged photograph of one of the deceased. He wasn't a criminal. He didn't seem dangerous. Just an ordinary man.
The office door opened without warning.
"I hope you have coffee," a firm voice said.
It was Captain Elena Rivas, the unit supervisor. In her forties, with a direct gaze and impeccable posture. She didn't raise her voice, but she didn't need to.
"I was told you're reviewing old files without formal authorization."
Novak exchanged a quick glance with Volkov.
"We're following a pattern," Volkov replied calmly.
Elena walked over to the whiteboard. He looked at the photos, the dates, the connections.
She didn't seem skeptical. She seemed worried.
"This isn't small," she murmured.
"No," Volkov replied. "And it doesn't end at the hospital."
Elena crossed her arms.
"If you're going to pursue this, you'll do it carefully. I don't want you to end up suspended... or worse."
Before she could continue, someone else appeared in the doorway. A young, nervous woman clutched a folder to her chest.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"Detective Volkov?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Volkov nodded.
"I'm Clara Medina. I work in the forensics department... well, I used to work at St. Elias Hospital."
The silence in the office shifted.
Elena frowned.
"Did you quit?"
Clara shook her head.
"They asked me to leave."
Novak offered her a chair.
Clara took a deep breath before speaking.
“I used to examine the bodies before cremation. I’m not a senior pathologist, but… I saw things. Injection marks that didn’t match the protocol. Bruises that weren’t on the reports.”
Volkov didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Did you report it?”
“Yes. Twice. Then they stopped assigning me those cases.”
Novak opened a new file on his computer.
“Do you have evidence?”
Clara opened the folder. Printed photographs. Dates. Handwritten notes.
“I couldn’t get much out without raising suspicion,” she said. “But something else… some patients didn’t seem confused. They seemed scared.”
Elena looked at the photos in silence.
“Why come now?”
Clara hesitated for a second.
“Because last night I heard there’s another transfer happening today. And that patient asked to speak with the police before signing any documents.”
Volkov exchanged a glance with Novak.
“Name.”
“Gabriel Ibarra,” Clara replied. “He survived a structural collapse two weeks ago.”
Novak typed quickly.
“Helix Urban Group,” he said, unsurprised.
Elena exhaled slowly.
“This isn’t just a theory anymore,” she murmured.
Clara lowered her voice.
“There’s something else… Not everyone at the hospital agrees with what’s happening.”
Volkov tilted his head slightly.
“Who?”
“A nurse. Mateo Salas. He’s been there for years. He knows when a cardiac arrest isn’t natural.”
Novak looked up.
“Are you willing to talk?”
Clara nodded uncertainly.
“If you feel someone can protect you.”
Elena looked at Volkov seriously.
“If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right. We need solid evidence. No hunches.”
Volkov took the photographs and placed them on the board.
“These aren’t hunches.”
Then he looked at Clara.
“Thank you for coming.”
For the first time since the case began, there was something different in the office.
Not just suspicions.
Allies.
As Clara prepared to leave, Novak received an urgent message.
His expression changed.
"Marek… Gabriel Ibarra's transfer was moved up."
Volkov grabbed his coat.
"What time?"
"In an hour."
Elena stared at them.
"Don't go alone."
Volkov stopped in the doorway.
"We never do."
But this time, he wasn't so sure.
Because now they weren't just investigating deaths.
They were trying to prevent the next one.
