Broadway Alley a place no one, other than the low lives of society would end up. The area smelled like those restrooms inside the subways, you know the kind I mean. The air was filed with the screams of people saying “Get back here with my TV” to something like “Oh Eddy, stay for a while”.
Yet walking down this historic alley was Angelia Morton, a person of extreme beauty and was also a model. She just blew off a guy who was trying to warn her about something, “Yeah right”, she thought as continued walking.
“Why am I here”, said Angelia to herself. “Why did someone text me to meet me here?”
Suddenly a trash can fell over and a cat emerged. Angelia began to get worried, but she was used to thugs trying to take her stuff, as she was from the Bronx and could handle herself.
Soon there was a new sound, a click. And soon a gun emerged from the shadows in front of Angelia. It was black and plastic, but was big enough to look like it could do damage. Soon the person came out of the shadows.
“What are doing” asked Angelia looking at the possible shooter. The gun holder didn’t say anything. All he did was aim, and then fired.

A cell phone begins to ring. Soon the eyes of a pop open. Looking at his clock that read 6:30 A.M. he slowly got up out of his bed, picked up the phone, and answered.
“Hello”, said the man.
“Jamerson we have a 187 at East 23rd Street and East 34th Street, better known as Broadway Alley.”
“Alright”, said Jamerson, “I’ll be there as fast as I can, over and out.”
He hung up his phone and turned to his bed where the body of a woman was laying naked on the opposite side of the bed, Jamerson’s conquest the night before.
“What was her name?” thought Jamerson looking at the woman. “Jennifer, Megan, or was it Michelle? Well whatever her name was, she won’t be here when I get back later tonight. Just another stranger at a bar.”
Jamerson took a quick shower and prepared some cereal with cinnamon and orange juice. Quickly got dressed and put on his brown leather coat and left his apartment. As he entered the garage he head to the red Mustang Boss 302, got in and headed to Broadway Alley.
Who exactly is Jamerson? He is Detective Richard Jamerson of the New York Police Department, formally of the Philadelphia Police Department. Up until six months ago he was on his way to being captain. That was until the captain found Jamerson in bed with his wife. So when it down to it he decided to take an offer to join the NYPD instead of possibly going to court.

“New York City a place where people come to make their dreams come true”, this thought went through Detective Richard Jamerson’s head as he pulled into the crime scene.
The area was already taped off, with the media; “vermin” Detective Jamerson would call them, taking pictures, and asking questions about what was going on. Jamerson lifted the yellow tape, breathed in the cold winter air, and began to examine the body that lay before him.

The body was that of a woman. She looked to be in her mid 20s, dark hair, dark eyes, whose body looked long and elegant as if she were once a model. In the palm her gloved right hand was a set of keys to what looked like her apartment, car, and other things that require keys. In the other hand was an elegant looking purse, which looked to be made of crocodile skin, worth these days around $100. The model looking woman was wearing a dress that had the effect of going to a party for the rich and very famous.

To the right of the body was the medical examiner, Dr. Emily Maxton. Emily was woman who enjoyed the feeling of discovery, to which that was one of the reasons she became an ME. Dressed today in was a secant dress, black with stars, which was underneath her lab coat, which was also black.
“Well it looks like she was shot”, said the M.E. “There is gunshot residue around this hole in her chest. Based on the size of the hole I would say she was shot at close range, about 3 feet or so, and by a Glock -45 pistol.

“We also have a description”, said the voice of Officer Kevin Flynn with his thick New York-Irish accent. “A woman, who was walking her dog, said she saw our victim talking to a guy. According to her the guy was, “Tall, like 6’, tattooed from ear to ear, and spoke with a Russian accent. Sounds like a girl I once took to the prom.”

“Knowing you Flynn, you probably went with a dog”, said the sarcastic Officer Sheppard. “I found an I.D. on the body, Angelia Morton, a model, 26 years old, and lives in Queens. She was at a launch party to launch a new perfume for her line. It is supposed to make anyone feel like royalty for a day.”

“Well if you like it so much, why don’t you just buy one”, said Jamerson. “Okay so we have a model, her wallets’ not stolen, neither are her cards or cash, and she is not beaten up. I would say that the killing was planned to look like a random murder.
“Alright Sheppard collect her fingerprints and run it through the system. Flynn keep talking to people, and see if we can find more on this Lazurnaya Shore cast member. Em do the autopsy when we get back, see if there are any abnormalities.”

Upon given their instructions the team spread out from the crime scene and began to collect more information. Meanwhile Jamerson was leaning over the woman’s body and looked into her now vacant eyes. “Don’t worry we will find out what happened to you.”

An hour passed before the team left the crime scene and were in the 17th Precinct. Now in the fully air conditioned space Jamerson began to work on the timeline for the case. Sheppard gave him the information about the woman. Angelia Morton: 26, brown hair, brown eyes, 6’ 5”, lives in Queens, only family is a younger sister, who is a secretary.

“We also have footage from her launch party”, continued Sheppard. “Here you can see her demonstrating the product seems happy, than here you can see that she receives a text message and is suddenly worried. She then leaves at around 12:25 A.M., and is seen half an hour later arguing with a Russian. Sounds like either she owes money or has a nice boyfriend.”

“What have I told you before, never assume anything” said Jamerson. “It may look like what you said, it may however be exactly wrong. So let’s keep an open mind going forward. And have you found the sister yet.”

“I left here three message on her machine”, said Sheppard. “She works as a secretary for a modeling agency, the same agency that does all of Angelia’s work. It also says in her report that she was arrested for possession of narcotics, nearly running over a cop, while drunk, and has been bounced from four other jobs in the last three years. Sounds like the family black sheep to me.”

“Okay so we have one sister with all the fame, wealth, and beauty. While the other gets all the leftovers. Sounds like my own sister, I have the beauty and she not so much”, said Jamerson.
“Really?” said Sheppard, “Because I saw your sister at the last Christmas party, and well it looked like she was working it.”
“Oh shut up”, Jamerson sarcastically said.
“Alright”, said Jamerson, “keep trying to find more about our dead model. I want to know her past, friends, enemies, everyone she worked with, and any other information that might help us.”
“You got it boss”, responded Sheppard. Jamerson used his time to complete the timeline and was certain that he was in fact better looking than his sister, no matter what Sheppard said.
Just then the detective’s phone rang and the caller ID was Emily. “Yes Em”, he answered.
“Jamie you got to come up here, I think I found something”, she said excitedly.
Jamerson hung up the phone and headed to the elevator, he was the only one to only one that called her Em, and she was the only one that called him Jamie. Once the doors to the elevator opened, he stepped inside pressed the number 3, and the door closed and he was off.
The 3rd floor of the precinct was mainly for the medical department. To the left were the rooms where the deceased were taken to discover what was inside them, that could not be seen from the outside. To the right were the offices of the medical department, with the biggest belonging to Emily.
Inside this gigantic room was all the high tech equipment need to discover and abnormalities of someone’s blood, body, organs, and other areas of the deceased. You could tell it was Emily’s office simply by the music coming out of it: today it was “Grunge Attack” by the Metalheads.
“You called, yelled Jamerson of the loud music. “Yes”, said Emily turning down the volume. “Wait tell you see what I found”, she said excitedly as she dragged the detective to her desk.
“Well upon examine, Miss Morton lived the high life of society. Her stomach contains contained an eclectic taste of caviar, steak tartar, and champagne water. It’s water that tastes like champagne by the way. Her liver is perfect health, same as her heart. She seems very fit. Blood pressure is good to. And she also…”
“EM”, said the detective interrupting Emily, knowing how excited she gets whenever a new body comes to her, “please get to point”. “Okay”, said Emily, still with smile on her face.
“Ms. Morton died around between 12:30 to 1:00 A.M. based on the temperature of her liver as well as the broken watch on her arm that had 12:45 on it. I also took x-rays of her body and found some abnormalities.” She hit a switch and the X rays shots on the wall were lit up showing a skeleton of a head, arm, chest, and leg.
“There seems to be nothing wrong at first. But if you look closer, you can see there is something weird.” She zoomed in on the stills, and once zoomed as far is it could go there appeared to be a puncture mark in spine, as well as bruising on her head.
“What is that”, said Jamerson in disgust.
“They are actually old, like 2 decades old to be exact”, continued Emily. “The injection looks to have been repeated multiple times. And the bruising on the head looks to be for some sort of shock therapy that was done to the same time she received the injections to her spine.”
Still looking at the x-rays and already filled with disgust about the information on what was done to this woman as child.
Jamerson turned to Emily and asked, “Is there anything else?”
“I’m afraid so”, said Emily, now with a frown on her face. She clicked another button and on one of the monitors in her office a picture appeared in the form of a brain with a massive bruise in it.
“The area with the bruise is the part of the brain that controls memories. And if I’m not mistaken I think I know where this is from. Now this is only I rumor I heard a few years ago, but I heard that a program was used to create spies to steal information and assassinate key members of certain countries and deliver the results to handlers.
“And this program was done by the former Soviet Union.”

“Soviets eh”, said Captain Lingler, “boy does bring back good times of paranoia and panic of a nuclear attack.” Jamerson and Sheppard were standing in the Captain’s office.
The place was decorated with the pictures of his wife, daughters, and his late father. On his desk were other case files that needed his approval, flowers from his 15 tear anniversary and his name plate. On the floor was matt resembling the United States, two leather chairs, and on the walls were book shelves full of law books, and in the corner was the American flag.
“Yes sir”, said Jamerson. “We believe that our victim may have been a part of a program to infiltrate to us to collect key information on our government secrets.” “And it is also possible that this mysterious Russian may be a part this.” “Okay and have you found this mysterious Russian?” asked Lingler.
“Umm…” went the detective and right on cue the elevator doors opened with Flynn running out. “Hey guys, I think I found our guy”, Flynn yelling across the precinct, and then joining the others in the captain’s office.
“So as it turns out our Russian is actually Omar Krashci; he is here in New York for business from a Vodka Distribution company in St. Petersburg.”
“Wait”, said Sheppard just remembering something. “One of the techies dropped off a report. Yes here it is; the substance on the body was indeed Russian Vodka, made primarily in the St. Petersburg’s area.”
“How can you tell the vodka was from St. Petersburg?” asked Jamerson. “Well”, continued Sheppard, “it is based on the ingredients, how it prepared, distilled, and how long. The process is manly used by the, if imp renouncing it correctly, Водка Верховного компании. It is manly shipped to the Eastern seaboard of the US where it bought mainly by bars to conduct fire tricks.”
“Also we have a picture of him too”, said Flynn and showed a picture of him. The man looked like one of those tattooed freaks you see at carnivals. His entire face was covered with a dragon, Russian writing, fire, and what looked like advertising for a Russian McDonalds.
“There also seems to be a gap in his file. The file the company has on shows his employment history beginning in 2001, but nothing before that. It is like this guy just came out of thin air.”
“Well now you have a suspect”, said the captain. “When did this guy come in?” Flynn was going through some papers until he found what we has looking for, “Security footage from JFK shows him coming in a week before Angelia was killed.”
“Okay now we have good suspect”, said the captain. “Question this guy; find what he knows, and why he is here. And hopefully we can also arrest him for public ugly.”
The men left Lingler’s office and continued business. “Okay”, started Jamerson, “We need to get this guy. Flynn go see if you can bring him in.”
“Ay, captain”, said Flynn. “Sheppard do have more on Angelia.” “Not yet”, answered Sheppard. “But I think her sister is right behind you.”
Jamerson turned around and saw a miniature version of the victim sitting in a chair in the lobby. She was slim, had dark hair, and was looking like she might collapse at any minute.
“Excuse me miss are you here to talk about Angelia?” asked Jamerson.
In an almost mousy quiet voice she responded, “Yes.” The two walked to the detective’s desk and he let her sit in his chair. Okay so tell me about yourself.”
“My name is Lily,” she started. “Angelia is, well was, my sister. We were nearly inseparable. When our mother died, she was the one that took care of me.”
“If I may ask”, interrupted the detective, “You seem like you could pass out any minute now do you need help or some water maybe?”
“No”, she answered. “I’ve been on medication ever since my mother died a few years ago. It is mainly for sleep and to clear my head. I’m sure you’re wondering why I have escaped jail time so many times. Well my sister got me out of trouble many times and a few technicalities I guess. I think she was my guardian angel, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Listen to me”, started Jamerson, “I am going to need your help. When your able to, I want you to tell me about anyone who might have wanted you sister dead.”
Lily waited nearly five minutes before speaking, “Well there are some models that Angelia worked with that might have wanted her dead.”
“Who?” asked Jamerson.
“Well I don’t know their last names”, said Lily, “but I know their first names: Shelby, Kimberly, Lana, and Jane. These girls might be the ones, they would do anything to get a good job, and I mean anything.”
“I have one more question”, said Jamerson “where were you between 12:30 and 1:00 A.M.?”
“I was at the launch party for my sister’s new perfume.” she said. “I was always there to support my sister, just like she always there for me.”

With this new piece of information Detective Jamerson got into his Mustang and headed to the ABC Modeling Agency. After the valet parking, Jamerson went in the front door and almost immediately his jaw dropped to the floor.
Inside this place were some of the most beautiful women in the world. Some were in elegant dresses waiting to go to parties, other were in barley anything doing a photo shot for magazine covers, some weren’t in anything at all just for the fun of it. It took Jamerson nearly 10 whole minutes to get back to reality and back on the case.
After talking to the receptionist, Jamerson took the diamond encrusted elevator all the way to the top floor, or as it said on the name bar, MODEL HAVEN to meet with the “friends” of Angelia. When the doors opened, Jamerson definitely felt like he was in model haven.
There were tall posters of magazine covers all across each of the wall, there were more photo shoots up her than down in the lobby. And the women, oh man the women, they were everything from his fantasies, times 1000.But before his mind went back into the gutter he walked up to the head of the Agency, the legendary Morgan Gates.

“Yes I am terribly sorry about Angelia’s death. It is simply tragic.” Ms. Gates managed to say this in a very bad British accent, and also had no remorse when say this.
“I’m sorry, but you don’t seem upset that one of your models is dead.” said the outraged detective.
“Yes well”, she continued, “this business is tragic, and as you know image is everything.” Was it Jamerson’s imagination, or did she just talk like Cruella de Vil, voice and speech alike?
“Look detective,” said the de Vil wannabe, “I have been in this business for a long time. Models come and go. It is not my fault if they fall in on the wagon or do something illegal that might hurt this agency, me, the models, and the people around them. If they do hurt the image of this agency, then we will sue them for everything they are worth and to make sure no one will hire them again.”
“So what your say,” started the detective, trying really hard not to slap this woman, “is that if she were dead, pregnant, doing drugs, or anything else illegal that you will screw their lives up? Wow that is just wow. I have met similar people like you before, except those were the people I also put away too.”
“Look detective”, said the walking silicon machine getting up from behind her desk, “this business is a dog eat dog world. If models fool around on our own time, we have to make sure that it has no ties to us. While Ms. Morton was a wonderful asset to us, there are others who are willing to take her spot and be on top.”
Still resisting the urge to slap her sideways, Jamerson started the questioning. “Where were you between 12:30 and 1:00 A.M. this morning?”
“Well”, started Ms. Gates “around that time I was still with friends at LA Gillian restaurant celebrating a birthday. Afterward I headed home in my car and then went to bed.”
“Do you own a Glock by any chance?” asked the detective.
“What, you mean like a gun?” answered Gates. “Oh my heavens no. I hate guns, every time one goes off I run for cover.
“Even if I did have one, I would never allow it in the building. There are rules, metal detectors and security guards at each end of the building doing pat downs. So if anyone where to bring a gun in, it would be detected anyway.”
Having decided that this was going nowhere, Jamerson decided to leave. “Oh wait detective”, said Ms. Gates. “You know if the police things don’t work out, you should consider modeling. Here’s my card if you ever want to strut down the runway.”
She handed him one of her business cards and while waiting for the elevator to come up, he threw the card into the trash.
While in driving in his car back to the station, Jamerson began to think. He thought of the legendary Morgan Gates, a model from the 80’s, who good give Farrah Fawcett a run for her money.
He also remembered how his dad would fawn over her pictures and saying that she was the nicest thing in world. “Yeah”, thought Jamerson, “if you could see her now dad, you would kill yourself.”
Having arrived back at the station, all Jamerson wanted to do was sit at his desk and do some filling on the case. Then Flynn appeared from behind his desk with some news.
“Remember that tattooed Russian, well we found him.” Wasting no time, Jamerson grabbed his pad, a pencil, and the file and headed towards the Dungeon.
Omar was already in the interrogation room of the police station, or “The Dungeon” as the other cops like to say, and inside the dimly lit and dark room the walking billboard was ready to talk when Jamerson came in through the door.
“You know”, started the detective after closing the door, “you are a very hard person to find. Now why don’t we start with you telling me what you are doing is this city. Because let me say, you don’t look like you work for a Vodka company.”
The circus freak cleared his throat, “You’re right”, he said in a very thick Russian accent. “I don’t work at a vodka company. It is merely a cover that was given to by the FBI. They wanted me to find out if there were “other projects” in the company, like prostitution and trafficking. And FYI, there isn’t. But you want to know why I am here, it is simply because my mother lives in New York, and I wanted to visit her.”
“Well we have checked, and he did go to his mothers,” said the obvious Sheppard as he, Jamerson, and Flynn were looking at security, and traffic cameras stationed throughout the city.
The footage showed Omar get into a 1996 green Ford Taurus SHO and exiting the airport parking lot. Soon the footage showed him in traffic, entering the Lincoln tunnel, and arriving at his mother’s house.
“This dirt bag has an alibi, and now we don’t have any suspects”, said Jamerson.
“Wait”, said Flynn, “what about those models friends of Angelia? What about them?”
“No it’s not them”, said Sheppard. “I looked at the phone from Angelia and she took photos of all of them at the launch party. All were there, plus I did trace on their phones as well. They were in that party for a very long time.”

“Woo, woo, woo wait a minute I think our suspect is back in,” said Flynn looking at the camera footage. And as the men looked they saw the tattoo man stop his car in front of a Manhattan Mini Storage, step out of his car, and enter the building, with the time stamp at 5:34 P.M.

“Alright Nick, fast forward this thing”, said Jamerson. “See how long he was in there.”
“On it”, said Sheppard as he fast forwarded the tape showing other customers arriving and leaving quickly while the Russians Taurus stayed in the parking lot.
“Wait, there he is”, said Jamerson. And soon the Russian came walking out of the building getting in his car and driving away. Time stamp was at 5:58 P.M.

“We need to find out what is in that storage unit”, said Jamerson. Soon with Captain Lingler’s help, a warrant was ordered by a judge and the team was off. Jamerson got in his Mustang, While Sheppard and Flynn got into Sheppard’s silver Camaro Zl1.
The reason Flynn rides with Sheppard is one he screams and is not allowed in Jamerson’s car, two he doesn’t like driving, and three he failed his driving exam five times. And soon they were off.

While on freeway Jamerson had one of his thought conversations with himself. “What is in that storage unit? Is this why Angelia was murdered? What is in the storage unit to begin with?”
Having thought of the important question, Jamerson raced to the storage, and just for turned on the siren to both scare and get people to move out of the way.
The men soon arrived at the storage unit and put on their gear, expecting the worst. With their bullet prove vest on and their pistols locked and loaded they got into position behind the door.
“Ready”, said Jamerson and with a nod from his partners he kicked the door in, and the police entered the building
When they entered the storage space they were shocked to see there was nothing in there. The space was filled with dust, as if no had been in here for months. In the back corner of the storage space was a box that looked like it was just added.
“What do think is inside?” asked Sheppard.
“Well hopefully the key to solving this mystery” said Jamerson and with all the force in his body opened the box and looked inside.
“Hey”, Sheppard said with disappoint, “it’s just some files.”
“Actually, I think you might what to take a closer look”, Flynn said.
As the detective and the officers looked down at the files they knew something was wrong. “Something wicked is going on around hear”, said Officer Flynn as the men looked at the files.
Inside each of the vanilla folders was the information of various women, with information ranging from their social media updates to their social security numbers, addresses, and their credit card numbers. The men looked at each with the look of shock, ah, and disgust. Then something caught their eyes, one of the files had the picture of their murder victim, Angelia Morton. And labeled on the outside of the vile were two words, “SKY RAIN.”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!” These words came from the captain’s mouth upon the report from his officers. “There are files on woman, and we have no idea why.” “This is crazy, who would something like this?”
Well I think I might know sir”, said Sheppard, trying to calm down the captain. “It seems that they had a stalker on them and probably wanted to “get close to them”. “I don’t care if we were 30,000 miles way, I want this sicko captured. Now then what else do we know?”
Jamerson cleared his throat and began to speak. “Well sir it looks like the storage space was bought a few months age. No one actually bought it up front, more likely that did it over the phone. And there were two visits to the unit.
“The first, three weeks ago where the create was delivered and yesterday when the Russian stopped by. Also going through the files, there are others besides the women. Some appear to be former Soviet scientist, engineers, and politicians.”
“What is there connection to this case?” asked the captain.
“We think they might have been a part of some soviet experiment”, answered Flynn. “According to Emily’s report there were aged bruises and shock marks in her head as well as injection marks I her spine. Now if what I am thinking this experiment might be, then we are in trouble.”
“What exactly do you think it is?” asked the captain.
Flynn looked worried as he answered. “Angelia and all these people might have been a part of some secret espionage program to steel valuable information and assassinate high officials in our government. In order to be sure though, I must run to my apartment to find the necessary information.” And soon Flynn left the office and went down the stairwell.
“I think that’s a good idea”, said Lingler “it’s been a long day, and I think we could all use some rest.”
Soon the men departed the office, with the Capitan going down the elevator leaving Jamerson and Sheppard to talk.
“So what do you think about Flynn’s theory?” asked Sheppard.
“You know Flynn”, said Jamerson, “he’s a conspiracy nut. If it isn’t Soviet experiments, it’s Bigfoot, UFOs, or The Loch Ness Monster. But we might not want to throw this idea out.”
And with that the two head to the garage level without saying a word. Both men exited the elevators, got into their cars, and left the precinct.

Jamerson entered his upper New York apartment, if you could call it that. His “apartment” was two stories, with a fully decked out kitchen. To the left of it was his home office with other cases stacked on the desk next to the computer.
On the right was his living room with leather chairs couches, a Persian rug and 60” TV with Blu-ray, x-box, Wii, and PlayStation. Upstairs was his huge bedroom, with king size bed big enough for 6 and a bathroom that even President Taft could fit into. There also was a game room with a poker table, foosball table, pinball machine as well as a built in home theatre.
“Yeah home sweet home”, thought Jamerson.

He headed to the kitchen, poured himself some bourbon from his stash and turned the TV onto Sports center. With the highlights fling on the screen, Jamerson got to thinking, “They pay millions to a guy who can’t make a free-throw, please.” Soon he was knocked out by the alcohol and the toll of the day and was soon back at the crime scene.

This was a regular dream of Jamerson; it’s his way of getting into the heart of the investigation. He could see the crime being committed: Angelia being shot, the killer walking away and her cell phone. Wait her cell phone! Why didn’t I think of this?

He soon awoke and it was dawn, after taking his shower and having a bowl of cereal he headed to the station. Once inside he headed to his desk and began to type in the serial number of the phone and activated the built in GPS. After about a minute he discovered where the location was: back in the alleyway.

Just as quickly as he got in, he was back out heading to the alleyway where the crime was committed. The yellow tape was still there, he ducked over it and began to search for the phone behind the dumpsters, trashcans, boxes, and hobos. After five minutes of looking he discovered beginning used by a hobo as a beaming signal to call home, and after agreeing to pay 20 dollars, the phone was in his possession.

When he got back the station was busy as officers were typing, talking on their phones, and getting water from the cooler. Jamerson plugged the phone into his computer and began to upload the pictures into a folder. Soon he was looking at about 15 photos from the launch party. Each showed people parting and having fun with the product. But one photo caught his eye; the sister was at the party and she did not look happy.

Soon the rest of the team arrived and after showing them what he just discovered, they were off. They drove back to modeling agency. When they walked in they saw the sister of Angelia, as a secretary.

“Why didn’t you tell us you worked here?” asked Jamerson.
“You never asked silly”, responded Lily. She looked a lot better than she did when she was at the station. Today she was in a secant dress with the right amount of makeup and there was a twinkle in her eyes. Her hair was also notably straighter and not as frizzy.
“Yesterday was my day off. I wanted to be close to my sister, and she was able to pull a few strings and now here I am. Oh and did my tip pay off.”

“No it didn’t”, said Sheppard. “All the women you mentioned all had alibies the night your sister was murdered.”
“No that can’t be true”, said a surprised Lily. “I saw one of them leave on the night of the launch after the party. I think her name was Kimberly. I think that’s her right there.”

She was pointing to the blonde of a group of four who were most likely the others Lily mentioned. She was dressed in an elongate light blue dress with her hair down to her shoulders; she looked like a younger Heidi Klum.
“Excuse me”, said Jamerson interrupting the laughing that was going on “are you Kimberly?”
“Yes I am”, she said in a wonderful German accent. “
Good”, said Flynn, “because we need you to come with us.”

Kimberly was soon in the Angel room, the Dungeon just with light and more clean, and was being integrated by Flynn, with Jamerson and Sheppard watching in the observation room.
“Were you at the launch party last night?”

“Of course I was”, answered Kimberly “Everyone one was there. It was a celebration of good product.”

“Really cause you left about a minute after Angelia did. Was it to follow and then murder her?”
“Wait what”, she shouted revealing a New Jersey accent and suddenly she entered the Snoike state. “Okay no, no, no, no see I gets this call to go to Kyle’s, my boyfriend, and soon we had our owns party.” “I was theres the whole time you can check. Was it that skank Lily who ratted me out?”

“I take it you don’t like her?” asked Flynn.”
“Oh please, she may be related to Angelia, but that doesn’t mean she is Angelia. She asks for money all time, for drugs because I see her all the time popping pills. Also I would look into Gates. “You’re boss?” asked Flynn.

“She may be a former model, but she is a terrible boss. She keeps bringing in money, and soon she blows in all on young boys and wine with her friends. The agency is nearly bankrupt and she don’t care. I swears you should look it up.”
From behind the glass Jamerson and Sheppard turned to each other and nodded.

Half an hour later the other model “friends” appeared in the Angel room. Lana and Shelby talked about the company that Angelia acquired with half of her yearly salary. It was mainly for her products, but it also served as a giving center, to those who could afford the hospital. While Jane talked about how the agency was going under and having to find another agency.

“You know how hard it was to get into this one.” She said this with a decent, yet understandable Japanese accent.” I mean who knows how long it will take me to find another place that will take me.”
“If I may”, said Jamerson. “You seem to see things in the agency that others can’t. Can you tell me what you know, and who might have wanted Angelia dead?”

“Well I mean”, she started, “Angelia was a nice person, she gave 10 percent of her salary to charity every week. I would have wanted that contract with the perfume line, and you while the party was going on she gave it to me.”
“She gave it to you”, asked a perplexed Jamerson.

“Yes she did. Before she left the party she told me she already wrote it in her will. She also gave the other girls something as well, like cloths, major contracts that they wanted and even put leases on their apartments. I think you can check her will, she said she had written it down and will have it finalized.”

“Why did she do this”, ask Jamerson.
“I think she mentioned awhile back she was thinking of leaving modeling to start a care center”, answered Jane. “That was the think she really wanted to do, just modeling paid for the bills and gave her enough to start her dream job.”

“Well I went through the sister’s credit history and it shows that there is a charge for sleeping pills once a week. Must be insomnia or something.” said Jamerson looking into his computer screen after the interviews. “How about Gates, is there anything on her?”

“Yeah” said Flynn, “a lot.” “Kimberly was right the agency is nearly bankrupt. She owes more than what she is receiving. By my calculations they will be forced to close within about four months. I also put a call in at the court house to get a copy of Angelia’s will. By the way, where is Sheppard?”

“He said he remembered something about Gates and went to check it out. Okay so we have a sister who has trouble sleeping, a bankrupt CEO, and a mysterious will. By the way Flynn is there anything on that theory of yours?”
“Actually yes”, said an excited Flynn who grabbed a box from under his desk. “Wait tell you hear this.

“So turns out that SKY RAIN is actually the name of a program. Beginning in 1989 and ending in 1991 the Soviet Union began to hypnotize and implant thoughts into young people that would make them follow a command. The program was done by a man named Nikoli Omsrachi. Now he’s fled to the US and was soon discovered, by credit fraud, and was soon imprisoned and he died while in jail in 2001.

“It is said that he might have had a child, but there is no records to confirm that. But what they would do is inject them with a serum that would help them stay awake and the shock theory was sued to make them remember images of their targets.
“Before the program was shut down all the participates and the families involved in the program were given fake information to get into the US.”

With what he just heard, Jamerson was getting into his zenith sense. He began to piece together all the information at hand and was getting a clear image. “Okay so we have a woman that might have been a part of a secret Soviet project and now is dead. This program that seems to be the root of everything, and we have a reject of the Russian mob walking the street, yet we don’t have a suspect.”

“Well, I don’t know”, said the voice of the ME behind Jamerson.
“Em”, said Jamerson putting a pencil to chew on in his mouth “what are you doing up here?” This was a thing with Emily. Every time she found something that was depressing about the victim, she would come to the 1st floor and tell the guys what she found.
“I did some more tests on the body and found something.” She opened up her file and began to paraphrase the information. “Inside her stomach I found every food group known to man, except alcohol.”
“So what’s so strange about that?” asked Flynn.
“Well”, started Emily, who looked to be on the verge of tears “adults usually have some levels of alcohol in their system, even a few days after drinking. But what I found is that she did have a single drop of alcohol in nearly eight weeks. And there are normally two reasons why alcohol wouldn’t be in a person’s system that long. One she was either attending AA meetings. Or as I found, pregnant.”
Jamerson let the pencil drop out of his mouth. “Pregnant? Are you sure Em?”
“Very sure”, she said. The fetus was in the eight week part of development. I even extracted DNA and found the daddy, Trevor Minks.”
“Alright”, said Jamerson getting out of his chair, “So let’s get this guy and grill him on Angelia.”
“You can’t do that”, said Emily, “he’s in Greensboro, North Carolina.”
“Okay so we’ll grab a plane ride to Greensboro, arrest him, and grill him there.” responded Jamerson.
“You also can’t do that”, said Emily, “he’s dead.”

Jamerson let out a curse before responding, “He’s dead!”
“Yeah he his”, replied Emily. “According to the crime report that was sent to be from the local authorities, Minks died in a motorcycle accident, when a car ran into his bike causing him to crash into a tree. Cause of death, was blunt force trauma to the head.”
“There were some things, however, that were inconsistent”, she said. “His blood alcohol levels were 0.25, way above the normal limits. He also had a nasty drug in his system that was a muscle relaxant. There were also small levels of potassium cyanide.”
“Potassium cyanide?” said Flynn. “So if the alcohol didn’t kill him, then the cyanide would have done the trick.”
“I never said he had alcohol”, said Emily. “According to the file, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in his system. Going back to what I said earlier it was either one of those two things, in this case it was former.”
“Yes here it is”, said Flynn pulling up the file of Trevor Minks on his computer. “It says here he had a DUI a few years ago, and that he has been a regular member of AA meetings for the last four years. It also says that he was in Greensboro attending the bachelor party of his younger brother. Also says that he only had water at the party.”
“Wow”, said Jamerson, “This guy is had everything, a life, good career, a model girlfriend, and a baby on the way. Now someone has taken all those things away. We need to find this monster.”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Flynn. “It’s simple”, answered Jamerson. “We haven’t checked her apartment yet, so if we go there we might be able to find something.” “Alright then let’s go”, said Flynn. “Okay I will get in my car”, said Jamerson, “while you take a cab, I don’t want you screaming in my car again.”
Ten minutes later the duo arrived in Queens and headed to Angelia’s apartment. The building was named the Avalon Riverview North, and it was one of those places that were well beyond an average person’s paycheck. It was a multistory apartment complex with an outdoor terrace, with a swimming pool, and large windows. It was a perfect place for the rich and famous to live.
“So why didn’t we come here first?” asked Jamerson. Flynn had the answer, “It’s because when I tried to get a warrant the judge never signed off. It was golf day apparently.”
“Alright then”, said Jamerson, “then let’s go.” The two went into the apartment and arrived at suite 8C. “What do we do now?” asked Flynn. “We can’t go in there without a warrant.”
“Oh I don’t think so”, said Jamerson. “Do you hear something from behind the door?”
Flynn having realized where Jamerson was going replied, “You’re right. It sounds like someone is calling for help.” With a smile on his face, Jamerson kicked in the door, and they entered the apartment.
When they got in the apartment, it was a disaster. The sofa and chairs were ripped and shredded with the feathers flying out. The TV and photos was cracked, the rug was flipped over, and the plants were out of their pots.
In the kitchen, all the cabinets were open with every single plate, bowl, silverware; pot and pan were out, broken and dented. The sink was bashed in, allowing the water to drain out.
The bedroom was in the same state. The mattress was flipped and ripped. Pillows were everywhere and the canopy was about to fall in. The bathroom was trashed, bashed, and broken. Overall the place looked like a twister came in as well as wolverine.
“Okay”, said Jamerson “I want the CSIs and the techies to go through this place, get every hair molecule, fingerprint, tongue print, whatever they can find and bring all to the lab.” “Got it”, said Flynn.
An hour later the duo was in Captain Lingler’s office giving him the details on what they found. “The lab monkeys found five fingerprints in that apartment.” said Jamerson, 95 percent of the prints belonged to Angelia. Another set belongs to her sister Lily, which is kind of expected. A third, minor, set belongs to our Russian Omar, who we can’t seem to find. And we have the other two prints that we can’t identify yet.”
“And we’re still trying to find the motive”, said Flynn. “There were people who were after her fortune, which she gave away. It could because she was pregnant and someone was jealous. The problem is that all their ex’s said they were good people. So it just doesn’t add up.”
“Hold on”, said Jamerson pulling out his phone “I just got a text.” He entered OK on his phone and the message appeared.
“Fingerprint match found. Morgan Gates. 99.96%”
Jamerson turned off his phone and spoke, “Morgan Gates. She was inside Angelia’s apartment. She might be the murderer.”
“What”, replied Flynn “I thought she had an alibi.
“Oh I don’t think so”, said Sheppard walking into the precinct “I remembered where I saw Ms. Gates from. This picture fell out of Omar’s pocket when he left.” Sheppard showed everyone the picture of a laboratory with kids and scientists alike. And in the right hand corner of the picture was no doubt Ms. Morgan Gates, slightly 20 years younger.
“I also checked out her alibi”, continued Sheppard. “Turns out she left early, by about an hour, the valet confirmed that she asked for a cab and left.”
“This would explain it all”, continued Jamerson. “She was a part of it all; she made the files, and probably killed Angelia.”

“Alright I’ve seen enough”, said the captain who was watching everything. “I want everyone mobilized, get to the agency, and arrest this woman for the murder of Angelia, and crimes against humanity. NOW!”
And on that not everyone in the department headed to garage to get in their vehicles. Once in the garage Jamerson got in his Mustang, while Sheppard and Flynn got into Sheppard’s Camaro and drove to the agency. “This is it”, thought Jamerson on the way to the witch’s liar, “we have you now.”

The team along with the other cops encircled the building. Once inside Jamerson headed to the top, while Flynn to the garage and Sheppard remained in the lobby with the other cops taking the other 38 floors.
While in the elevator, Jamerson got his revolver ready, six bullets in six slots all ready to fire. To doors to the elevator opened and Jamerson walked all the way to the desk of Morgan Gates. Her chair was facing away from the detective and facing the window.

“Ms. Gates turn around, you are under arrest,” said Jamerson. When the suspect didn’t respond Jamerson slowly walked over to the desk. When he got to the chair the first thing he saw was the blood dripping on the floor, and the dead body of Morgan Gates lying motionless.
“Oh my God!”’ said the detective. Quickly Jamerson got on his radio, “Dispatch this Badge 6574, I need an ambu-”, but he soon stopped when he noticed a shadow of a man moving on the wall and then disappeared.
Seconds later two officers came out the elevator, having already cleared two other floors. “I need you two to call for an ambulance, while I go after a POI”, said Jamerson grabbing his gun.

With his gun in hand the detective went to the stairwell and began to follow the shadow down 39 flights of stairs. “Could this guy be the killer”, thought the detective as he noticed he was now on the 29th floor.
The further down he went, the more Jamerson soon began to get winded, “Man”, he thought “I really should go to the gym more often.”

It was then that he reached the first floor, one more down and he was at the lobby, and that’s when he saw the shadow go through the door and Jamerson then began to run like hell.
The guy was running through the lobby, avoiding the cops, and with Jamerson on his tail this guy decided to pick up the speed. Once he opened the main doors, and was in the sunlight, Jamerson could clearly see who was trying to escape. He could recognize that walking billboard anywhere.

“Hey!” yelled the detective to the fleeing Russian. Thinking quickly Jamerson drew his gun, aimed, and fired. The bullet went out the chamber with the sound like the force of thunder and hit its target, and the suspect dropped like a fly. Happy with the results the decretive and his partners who had just come out the building jugged to the Russian who was holding his leg as blood began to come out.
“Well I don’t want to keep you waiting,” said the sarcastic Officer Flynn. “But you have a date at the station, and we don’t want you to be late.”
“Now I am going to ask you again, what do you now?” Jamerson was now in the Dungeon with Omar. Already with a bullet hole in leg and bruises on his face for not answering the detective’s questions, Omar looked like he went 20 rounds against Manny Pacquiao, Lennox Lewis, and Muhammad Ali combined.
“Alright, alright I will talk”, said Omar with blood now coming out of his month and the fear of getting hurt again he decided it was best to tell the police everything.
“During the last few years of the Soviet Union several important figures decided to make spies to infiltrate the United States. By the orders of Commander Nikoli Omsrachi, young children were put through a hypnosis program that would imprint missions into their heads and by a certain command sequence would carry out those orders.”
“I already know that”, said Jamerson, “But what does this have to do with Angelia and the other women on those files?” Omar spat out some more blood before continuing.
“The woman was actually named Angelica Somrich, and she, as a child, was in the early stages of the program before it shut down. The name Angelia Morton was a cover identity given to the participants and their families before they entered the US. The other women in the file were also in the early parts of the program before it shut down.”

“Her mission as well as the other subjects was to infiltrate the US and steal valuable information on your government. Weapons systems and satellite signals were also important. And then they were to give the information to former members and supporters of the USSR.
“Before he was arrested Omsrachi sent out the signal through radio waves that would have made the subjects began to start their assignments. However since they didn’t go through the entire program, they never did their assignments and they just lived normal lives.”

“But then why were you talking to her in the alleyway before she was killed?” Jamerson asked.
“I was talking to her because I was trying to warn her that someone was targeting those who were a part of the program”, said Omar. Two scientists, three engineers, and five of the test subjects were all found shot in their apartments. I tried to tell her about her past but she didn’t believe me and so I just left.”
“The reason why I was at the agency was because I was also trying to warn Morgan about the same thing. When I got there it was too late and she was already dead. I was on way out when you came in. Detective you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t kill these people.”
“What is your relationship to the Soviet Union?” asked Jamerson “Because everywhere I look there are Soviets involved, and you seem to around them a lot.”
“I have no relationship to Russia at all”, cried the suspect, who now had tears coming out of his eyes and had dropped his accent. “Like I said I work for the FBI, you can check my badge if you want to. These tattoos on my face are just temporary. I just put water on a tracing and apply it to my face. My real name is Marco Simmons, Omar was just a cover.”

The detective was getting fed up with this guy. He was hoping that maybe he would have been lying so he could have given that Russian Mob reject another fist to the face. But Jamerson could tell that the guy was telling the truth. “Alright, you talked to her then you left, so where did you go?”

Marco/Omar shifted a little due to the pain, “I left to go Newark to have dinner with my mother, and it was pot roast night after all.” “There are security cameras in the Lincoln Tunnel you can check for yourself.”

“I have two more questions for you: why were at the agency and why did you make those files?” asked Jamerson. Omar was once again breathing heavily before he answered.
“I was assigned to look into the Sky Rain program. I found out all those involved from the participants to those administering the program. I tracked down those who were still alive and those who weren’t yet killed and warned them about someone trying to kill them. “
“The reason why I was at the agency was because I was also trying to warn Morgan about the same thing. When I got there it was too late and she was already dead. I was on way out when you came in. Detective you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t kill these people.”

“Well he was telling the truth”, said Sheppard one hour later, “surveillance shows that Omar entered the tunnel and arrived at his mom’s place twenty minutes later.” “Okay”, said Jamerson, “so now we just eliminated our only suspect. Wonderful”

And right on cue the elevators opened and Flynn came running in. “Well I don’t think so, I think we just got another. I was going over surveillance from the party and one of the guest left half an hour before Angelia did.”
On the screen they saw the launch party for the new perfume line. Soon their attention shifted to the individual walking out the door. “OMG, I didn’t see that one coming,” said Sheppard. “So this was the one. Hum this makes things interesting.”

“And there’s more”, continued Flynn. “The court house finally sent us a copy of Angelia’s will, and take a look at who wasn’t on it.” The team looked at the last testament of Angelia and saw that someone important was excluded. “As you can she gave half her fortune to charity, split her company with some friends and relatives, and gave the rest away as bonuses on paychecks.”

“Alright”, said the excited Jamerson “so we now have motive, and the killer. Now it’s just trying to capture them. The question is how?”

“There is more”, said Sheppard. “The techies sent over the results on the other fingerprint, and it belongs to someone who should be dead. Take a look.”

Jamerson and Flynn looked at the monitor that showed the results. With a 99.87 percent watch it was conclusive that this person was not only alive, but also could have been the murderer.

All of a sudden the phone on Jamerson’s desk rang. Looking at his team he picked it up and answered, “Who is it?” “I have information that you might want,” said the voice on the other end. “Meet me at pier 13 at the docks by eleven tonight. If you want to catch your killer, I suggest you come.” Jamerson hung up the phone and turned to his team. “Well looks like I’ll be going then.”

The detective got into his car and headed to the docks to meet this mysterious person. On his way there he began to think that this might finally be the break needed to get Angelia’s killer. He already knew who it was, but he was hoping that it was the killer calling, so that way he could bring this criminal to justice.
It was at 10:49 when the detective drove into the docks and arrived at the destination. The place was dissertated except for hundreds of storage containers. The only sounds Jamerson could hear were the creaking of the container’s doors and splashes coming from the water down below.
As the detective walked around he was walking around, he noticed a familiar green Taurus parked next to a container.
It was nearly eleven when Jamerson looked down at his watch, “Alright, where are you”, wondered Jamerson. Soon he saw someone lying on the ground.
It was the walking billboard himself, this time with a big bullet through the back of his head, execution style. Jamerson bent down and said to the body, “Now who did that?”
That’s when he heard the click of a gun. “Nice of you to show up detective”, Jamerson turned around and was now face to face with the killer.

Holding the Glock was the sister of Angelia, and boy she did not look good. That almost perfect look about her was now gone. Her stylish hair was in a mess, it’s like what hair looks like when someone gets of bed mixed with a badger. Her make-up was smeared all over her face, as if she were crying for a few hours.
“So it was yo-”, stared Jamerson “
SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!” yelled the sister. “All I wanted was a normal life, but I never got that chance because of those people. It was because of them that my life has been a wreck, so I repaid them for their services and letting them have what they deserved.”
“Did you know that Commander Omsrachi was your father?” said the detective trying to distract her while he coming up with a plan to escape alive.
“No”, said Lily, “not at first anyway. You see my mother was raped as teenager, this was after Angelia was born, she tried to report it, but as Omsrachi was an important figure in the Union’s service it was quickly dismissed. Maybe that’s why my mother never liked me so much.
“Three years ago I get a letter from a jail saying to come, as a prisoner has requested me. So I went and that’s where I met father. And the only thing he said to me was a series of numbers and letters “Sequence: AX57K84RG3” and I just left.
“The next thing I know I am leaving the jail, and then suddenly I’m standing over the body of a man with a bullet hole in him who I have never met and a gun in my hand. Then it just kept happing over and over.
Soon I discovered my “dad” put me through a program and that my assignment was to “clean up the messes and leave no traces of the former Soviet Union program. And so I did exactly that and so here we are now detective, me confessing my crimes and a gun pointed at your face. Can life get any better than this?

“And your sister, was it your program that killed her?” asked the Detective.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no it wasn’t the program, that was strictly me.” answered Lily. She said this with extreme passion and a smile on her face.
“Angelia was always the prettier one, the nicest one, the girl everyone wanted to be with. And I was just the swan’s sister, the ugly duckling. When she got A’s, I got B’s. When she got a car, I still had to walk. And when she became a model I just straight up lost it.
“So one night I sent her a text to meet me at the alleyway, and just when I was about to kill her when the Russian idiot came in and almost ruined my plan. But she brushed him off and still came. When I confronted her all she did was laugh as if I was a joke and I drew the gun, and fired.
“I watched as she fell to the ground, and I had a sense of accomplishment. And as I left and went to bed and for the first time, in long time, I was able to sleep normally without the need for pills. And now I am going to kill you detective.”
There was another click, “No before me” said someone with a really thick Russian accent. Out of the shadows emerged an old man, who in his younger years could have been the Incredible Hulk’s brother.
He was dressed in an overcoat, with a shirt that showed the face of Joseph Stalin. Also he was wearing jeans that should have been on a teenager, and also had on combat boots.
His balding head was nearly a shinny dome, with the last of his hairs slowly falling off. He was holding a TP-82, which was typically owned by soviet cosmonauts. As he came closer to the light Jamerson noticed that the old man had a limp. “Commander Omsrachi I take it?” asked Jamerson.
“Very good”, respond Omsrachi “You aren’t as dumb as I thought you were.” “You thought that I was dumb?” responded Jamerson. “O wait, never mind. Why don’t you tell me what you are doing here, I thought you died in jail.”
Omsrachi twitched a little, as if remembering was painful. “It was true I was in jail. A few years ago I see an ad staring Angelia. I remembered that she had a sister, my daughter. So I contacted her and when she came to see me I activated the elimination program in her to eradicate those who didn’t follow me to prison.”
“A few hours later I devised my escape plan. Using a muscle relaxant as well some heart medication, I made it look like I was dead. I was technically dead for a few hours. So once my body was out of that hellhole, I woke up and escaped the transport van heading to the morgue.”
“I did however hurt my leg during the process, as some idiotic deputy decided to drop some weights on me to make sure I wasn’t faking. I have spent the last few years in hiding, then I found Lily again, and she was been a good person letting me stay at her place.”
“And the gun”, asked Jamerson “where did you get that?” “One of my cosmonaut bodies from a long time ago” said Omsrachi. “He let me borrow it, and then I shot him in the head.” “Omar, did you kill him too?” asked Jamerson.
“That was me”, answer Lily. “I gave him the same call I gave you. He was easily fooled, he was crying like a blubbering baby before I ended him.” “And Trevor, did you kill Trevor?” asked Jamerson trying to distract them long enough to devise a plan.
“No detective” answered Omsrachi, “that was me. I found out about Angelia’s pregnancy from Lily and asked her to give me the guy’s name. I flew to Greensboro and found him in a bar. The funny thing was he wasn’t even drinking. He told me about Angelia, his plans to support her; he was a doctor in training, and his future.”
“When we wasn’t using, I put the remainder of the muscle relaxant I used to escape from jail as well as some potassium cyanide I picked up. The fool didn’t know what hit him. And you know what else? I was the car that made him hit the tree.”
“It was priceless seeing his face looking at mine. That terrified look when he realized it was me. And then seeing crash and burn into that tree, Ha, ha, ha, ha, good time. Now detective it is your turn to join those whom we have silenced. Ready daughter?” asked Omsrachi “Ready father” replied Lily.
Both aimed their guns, and without even hesitating Jamerson drew his own gun. All three fired at the same time with two of them falling to the ground, while another fell back and slashed into the water.
Minutes passed before the sounds of sirens filled the air, and soon Jamerson slowly got up and walked over to the body of Lily, who was not breathing and had blood spilling from her neck. Flynn and Sheppard joined Jamerson and looked down at the girl who only wanted peace in her messed up life.

“It’s a shame really”, said Jamerson. “All she wanted was a normal life, but was forced to kill because of her messed up, father and she never got that experience that life.”
“Yeah I know”, answered Flynn. “So let’s end a case like we always do; beer and cards at Charlie’s. Who’s in?”

All raised the hands and headed out to their local hang out knowing that another case has been solved.

From the Digital Journal of Deceive Jamerson:
CASE FILE #ADMX-1542-C
To whoever is reading is this, you might be wondering how is the sister the murderer, why did she do it, and how did I survive? The answers are simple. The files we found were indeed made by Omar, but he had an alibi on the night she was killed, he was having dinner with his mother in Newark.
All people who were the party were accounted for, except the sister, whose alibi feel apart when it was discovered that she left the party half an hour before the murder accorded. The sister was jealous of Angelia’s fame and popularity and wanted a taste of that life. I also knew that Omsrachi was alive because one the fingerprints told me and two when Lily was leaving a security camera spotted him with her.
And for those wondering how I survived. It’s simple never go to shady location without protection; IE a bulletproof vest. So until next time, stay safe, look sharp, and always be prepared.
Signed,
Deceive Richard Jamerson

In New York there are a few things you can count on: a good hot dog, tall buildings, and not enough crimes to go around. And on this case Jamerson, Sheppard, and Flynn try to solve a case of a man jumping off the Empire State Building. During the investigation they are joined by Kate Todd, a transfer from the LAPD, who is also here for personal reasons, and CSI analyst Robert Grissom, formally from the Chicago Crime Lab. But a simple suicide case is turned into a homicide when something is missing from the body. The team must figure out what is going on, and when more body begin to it leads them to the lair of a Nazi follower who is only just starting his wave of destruction in Burning Sky.
COMING SOON!

For Jamerson, Sheppard, Flynn, Todd, Grissom, and Maxton life is good. They solve crimes and help put criminal in their places. But their next case puts them in a world of trouble. When they find a man shot in Central Park, they are halted by the head of the US Navy, who claims authority over the body. Soon a Scotland Yard Inspector shows up claiming he owns the body. Soon the team finds themselves in the middle an international catastrophe, which might soon break out into World War 3. And a startling revelation about one of their own is revealed when it is discovered that they might have been the one to start this upcoming war. What awaits them all in Falling Sky?
COMING LATER!