Season of Moonlight

Tenth Month

GCD Headquarters

The City of Girchester, The Cronia Region

2325

Bernadette Case walked through the doors of the Girchester Criminology Division expecting a warm welcome.

Instead, she stopped, suddenly faced with a strange realization. The station was quiet, completely still. There was no activity, not even the hint of a breath or footstep. It was an eerie sensation Bernadette had never felt before. Her heart pounded.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She was being watched.

All eyes in the lobby stood transfixed on her presence. Bernadette arched a brow and walked to the reception desk, dressed in a white blouse tucked under the waistline of her black trousers. A red trench coat embraced her figure while her feet were strapped into yellow high heels, which announced her arrival with an echo that bounced throughout the room with each step she took.

"Detective Inspector Bernadette Case," she said, eyeballing the male secretary. His face was unfamiliar. He gazed at her for a moment in silence and blinked. Bernadette choked out the rest of her statement, caught off guard by his unenthusiastic response. "Notify the commissioner that I am here to see him."

The receptionist picked up a black corded phone and dialled a number with the tip of his pen. 

"Sir," the young man spoke flatly, taking another look at Bernadette before resuming the conversation, "Inspector Case is here to see you, sir. Yes, it is her. I am certain."

There was a hum through the receiver. Bernadette tucked her dark brown hair behind her ears, exposing a set of silver fish hook earrings that pierced her earlobes. Her lips were scarlet red, and Bernadette displayed her long, polished fingernails as she tapped the desk's surface. Passing individuals whispered to one another with swift glances in her direction, not bothering to be discreet.

After a minute, the receptionist hung up the phone. "Alright, Inspector Case, head on up."

"Can I ask you a question?" Bernadette said.

"Yes."

"What is going on? I seem to be missing something."

The receptionist cleared his throat. "Do you want the long or short answer?"

"Short."

"You are supposed to be dead."

The smile Bernadette had summoned faded. "What?"

"The commissioner is ready to see you. Best to not keep him waiting," the young man said, breaking eye contact. He returned to his work, leaving Bernadette flustered with a head full of scrambled thoughts.

Dead?

Bernadette left the reception desk and hurried up a flight of stairs to the third floor. She exited onto a red-carpeted corridor and hustled past twelve black doors leading into administrative offices until she reached a green door at the end of the hall.

Bernadette grasped the silver doorknob and barged in, the cold eyes of Commissioner Ottergrove staring back at her in shock.

"Explain yourself," Bernadette commanded.

Ottergrove steadied himself. "Explain what exactly?"

"Oh, let me think," she said, putting a finger to her lips. "How about why everyone in this building thinks I am a walking corpse!"

"Inspector-

"Sir, I demand an explanation!"

"Sit down, and you'll have one!" Ottergrove said.

Bernadette sighed and pulled out a black chair beneath the commissioner's desk. She took a seat and crossed her legs. "Alright."

Ottergrove's office was small, with three yellow cabinet shelves stacked against the back wall. Unlike the outside corridor, dark wood slabs panelled the floor and screeched as Bernadette adjusted her chair. Light poured into the room via a diamond-shaped window on the left and illuminated two family portraits on the commissioner's desk.

One photo captured Ottergrove's wife, Rebecca, laughing as she held their eight-year-old daughter, Cerico. The other was his son, Zerick, who smiled proudly while wearing a newly issued GCD constable uniform.

Ottergrove shook his head, then interlaced his fingers. "Three weeks ago, we got reports that the Woalani Justice Bureau burned to the ground. The morning papers confirmed it the next day. All personnel was assumed to have been killed. No survivors. You were working a case during that time, and after weeks of radio silence, we feared the worst."

Bernadette shifted uncomfortably. 

While frustrating, Ottergrove had good reason to form the conclusion he had. 

During her investigation in the capital of Woalani, a chilling quest to capture a serial killer massacring a controversial party of politicians had gone wrong. Her team had been moments away from triumph when a mole in the case, in allegiance with her prime suspect, detonated a bomb inside the heart of the station.

Bernadette recalled the inferno induced by the explosion, a brutal carnage taking the lives of the people she considered friends. The culprit was eventually caught, but not without devastating losses.

"Inspector?"

Bernadette smiled, her eyes transfixed on Ottergrove. "Please, continue."

Ottergrove softened his expression. "In the days following the news, we held a funeral. You were honoured for your brave years of service and rewarded a tombstone placement in Memorial Lane amongst the great civil heroes this city has lost in duty. While it was a difficult procedure, I am relieved to see you alive. For a short moment, we thought you ceased to exist."

"Oh, but I do exist," Bernadette said, leaning forward. "Sir-"

"Where were you?" Ottergrove asked, sounding almost angry. "When I sent you to help those fools in Woalani, I expected them to return you in one piece. I had officers search hospitals in the surrounding area for clues to your whereabouts if you survived, but they found nothing. When I requested your body be transferred back to Girchester for ceremonial purposes, it did not exist. I concluded you incinerated in the blast."

Bernadette smirked. "Well, here I am, fully intact."

"I ask again, Inspector Case. Where were you?"

"I'm afraid I am not at liberty to discuss that. But rest assured, sir, I was doing my duty for this region."

Although vague, Bernadette told the truth. *During her medical recovery, she was approached and recruited by the Cronia Secret Service to join an operation that led to the capture of the serial killer she had been tracking.

Bernadette was among four civilian members chosen for the assignment. Inspector Henri Fraser joined her from the Trylla Detective Bureau, his constable, James Abbott, and their colleague, Miss Elza Parks.

The mission was deemed classified, and she was sworn to secrecy. To the public, the Woalani assassin was just another criminal brought to justice, but they had nearly destroyed Cronia from within. 

Bernadette held her breath, hoping she had sufficiently whetted the commissioner's appetite for him to be satisfied. 

"Very well, you are back," Ottergrove said to her relief. "The circumstances related to it do not matter. The important next step is to get you back to work."

"Thank you, sir. I will be in my office," Bernadette said. 

She longed to return to the small rectangular room on the second floor overlooking the green treetops of Victory Park. It was her second home, and she yearned to relax in her red leather chair, reclined back with her eyes closed and inhaling the sweet scent of the white roses collected in a vase near the doorway.

"Oh, we occupied your office with another detective," Ottergrove said, stopping Bernadette in her tracks. "Your belongings have been transferred into storage."

Bernadette spun around, hoping it wasn't true. "What? Who?"

"A young man from the west coast. Quetal, I believe. I brought him in when you were reported dead. He is a nice chap, aware of your legacy, and strives to keep up with your impossible standards."

Bernadette hovered near the door, digesting the information. Upon the death of an employee, a standard protocol was enforced to guarantee a smooth transition for their replacement. 

Never was it calculated that one would rise from the dead and return to work weeks later. Bernadette hoped this new detective hadn't signed her career death warrant at the GCD. Otherwise, she would be sent elsewhere, a reality she was not ready to accept. Girchester was her home.

She would fight to stay.

Bernadette knew what she had to do. It was time to meet the competition.

"What is his name?" she asked, stepping into the corridor.

Commissioner Ottergrove grinned. "Detective Percival Cherry. You should visit him."

"Oh, I intend to."

* See Blood Cascading Skies.