The Missing Blues

The early morning light filtered through the high windows of the 23rd Precinct, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. Detective Sarah Martinez sat at hers, fingers flying across her keyboard as she updated the case report for her last investigation. She’d been at it for hours already, her coffee cup long empty and cold, but she barely noticed. The faint sound of chatter and ringing phones drifted in the background, but Sarah’s focus was razor-sharp.

Still, a part of her couldn’t shake the lingering unease that had settled in since Mike Reynolds died. She hadn’t liked the man—hell, they barely spoke unless it was work-related—but there was something about his sudden passing that didn’t sit right with her. Heart attack, they’d said.

She was still chewing over that thought when the door to the precinct opened with a loud creak. The buzz of conversation quieted, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed heads turning. Sarah glanced up, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the man walking in.

Sarah eyed the newcomer with skepticism as he strode into the precinct, a confident smile playing on his lips. His LAPD badge gleamed against the crisp fabric of his tailored shirt, and his easy, laid-back demeanor grated on her nerves immediately. She had heard about the transfer from the West Coast, but she hadn’t expected him to be so... Hollywood.

His stride was relaxed, casual, like he wasn’t stepping into one of the toughest precincts in Manhattan. The city ate guys like him alive. The sharp contrast between his polished exterior and the gritty, worn-down atmosphere of the precinct made him stick out like a sore thumb.

"Great," Sarah muttered under her breath. She had been hoping for a little more time to work alone—partners just got in the way.

As the man approached her desk, Sarah sized him up. He was tall, lean, with bright blue eyes that scanned the room with curious energy, taking in his new surroundings like some kind of eager tourist. She wasn’t impressed.

He stopped in front of her, flashing a charming grin that made her jaw tighten. He extended his hand toward her, but Sarah kept both of hers firmly planted on her desk, pointedly ignoring the gesture.

"Detective Martinez, I presume?" he said, his voice smooth, with a hint of an L.A. drawl.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her expression as cold as the coffee in her cup. "And you are?"

The man’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before he quickly recovered, his hand dropping to his side. "Detective Robert Campbell, LAPD. Looks like I’m your new partner."

The words hit her like a bad punchline. So, this was the guy replacing Mike. Her new partner. Sarah’s jaw tightened as she sized him up again. This wasn’t what she’d wanted—hell, she hadn’t wanted a partner at all. Mike was gone, and while she hadn’t exactly mourned the man, she had been looking forward to some time working solo. Now, here was this guy, strutting in like he owned the place.

She sighed inwardly, already dreading the next few weeks.

"Well, Hollywood boy," she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm, "you can sit over there." She gestured vaguely to the empty desk beside hers. "But don’t expect me to hold your hand."

Robert’s smile only widened, undeterred by her cold reception. "Don’t worry, Martinez. I’ll try not to cramp your style too much."

She shot him a look of pure indifference, the kind that made rookies break out in a sweat, but Robert wasn’t fazed. Instead, he set down a black duffel bag and slid into the empty chair at the adjacent desk. The soft squeak of the chair was the only sound that filled the awkward silence between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sarah tried to refocus on her computer, but she could feel his presence beside her, his eyes likely scanning the room again, assessing. He was new to New York, and it showed. The way he sat, the way he carried himself—he had that West Coast vibe, all sunshine and ease. It clashed against the hard edges of the city she’d spent her life in.

"Been in New York long?" Robert asked, breaking the silence as he pulled out a notepad and flipped through it.

Sarah didn’t look up from her computer. "Long enough," she said curtly.

"Good. I could use a local to show me the ropes," he replied, a casual grin in his voice.

Sarah clenched her jaw, fingers pausing over the keyboard. Show him the ropes? She had no interest in being his tour guide, let alone breaking in some LAPD transplant who probably thought he could waltz into the NYPD and play detective like in one of those glitzy cop shows. No, Sarah had a feeling this guy was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

"Let me make something clear, Campbell," she said finally, turning to face him. Her tone was cold, direct. "I don’t do hand-holding. You want to survive in this city? Fine. But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’ve got a shiny badge from Hollywood."

Robert met her gaze, his smile fading slightly as he took in her words. For a moment, Sarah thought she saw something shift in his expression, a flash of understanding—or maybe resolve. Whatever it was, he didn’t back down.

"I’m not asking for easy, Martinez," he said, his voice level, but firm. "I just want to get the job done. Same as you."

For a second, neither of them moved. The tension between them was thick, like the crackle before a storm. Sarah studied him, trying to gauge if there was more to this guy than the charm and the West Coast attitude. She wasn’t sure yet.

"Fine," she said finally, turning back to her screen. "Just stay out of my way."

Robert didn’t respond, but out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw him nod slightly, settling into his new desk with quiet determination. She could tell already—this wasn’t going to be easy.

As the day wore on, the usual rhythm of the precinct resumed. Phones rang, detectives moved in and out of the bullpen, and papers piled up on Sarah’s desk. But no matter how much she tried to lose herself in her work, she couldn’t ignore the presence of the man sitting next to her.

He wasn’t loud, wasn’t overly chatty, but every once in a while, he’d ask a question or make a comment, always in that same even tone, never pushy, never demanding. He was feeling the place out, observing, but still—he was there. And Sarah hated it.

By the time lunch rolled around, she had managed to avoid more than a few awkward exchanges, but just as she was getting ready to head out for a break, Captain Rivers appeared in the doorway of his office.

"Martinez! Campbell! My office. Now."

Sarah sighed, pushing back her chair and grabbing her notepad. "Here we go," she muttered under her breath, knowing this would be their first case together. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain—Robert Campbell was about to get a crash course in New York policing.

As Sarah and Robert made their way to Captain Rivers’ office, Sarah kept her eyes forward, focusing on the task ahead. The captain didn’t call you into his office unless it was serious, and Sarah had a feeling she knew what this was about. Still, the last thing she wanted was to be paired with "Hollywood boy" for something high-stakes right out of the gate.

Robert, walking beside her, seemed annoyingly relaxed. He was new here, after all, and she could tell from the way he carried himself that he wasn’t feeling the weight of the job yet. But he would. New York had a way of breaking people in fast.

They reached the office, and Rivers’ gravelly voice came through the cracked door.

"Martinez! Campbell!" he barked. "Get in here."

Sarah pushed the door open, stepping inside first with Robert trailing close behind. Captain Rivers was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with deep-set eyes and a permanent scowl that made him look like he hadn’t slept in about a decade. He sat behind his cluttered desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork, empty coffee cups, and a half-eaten sandwich. The walls were lined with faded photos of him in his younger days—a reminder of when he used to pound the pavement instead of babysitting detectives.

"Close the door," Rivers ordered, without looking up.

Sarah did as she was told, then took her usual seat across from him. Robert slid into the chair next to her, but where Sarah sat with her notepad ready, Robert leaned back slightly, his posture more casual. She noticed the way Rivers’ eyes flicked to him, taking in the new guy with a hint of curiosity before he got to the point.

"I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Detective Hayes," Rivers began, his voice rough, eyes settling on Sarah.

She nodded grimly. "He didn’t show up for his shift two days ago."

"Correct," Rivers said, his tone clipped. "Hayes has gone missing, and so far, we don’t have any solid leads. I want you two to handle this one. Quietly. We can’t afford the media running wild with another story about missing cops. Got enough heat as it is."

Sarah frowned, flipping open her notepad and making a quick scribble. "Do we have any details about his last known whereabouts?"

Rivers reached into the pile of folders on his desk and pulled out a thin file, tossing it onto the desk in front of them. "That’s what we’ve got so far. Hayes was last seen at a bar on the Lower East Side. Bartender said he had a few drinks and left around midnight. Never made it home."

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she skimmed through the file. "What about his phone? Last ping?"

Rivers’ scowl deepened. "Phone’s been off since that night. We’ve already checked his usual haunts—nothing. And his wife says he wasn’t acting any different before he disappeared."

"Doesn’t mean he wasn’t in trouble," Sarah said, her mind already racing through possible scenarios. Hayes had been with the precinct for years. No way he just vanished without something—or someone—being involved.

Robert, who had been listening in silence, leaned forward slightly, glancing at the file over Sarah’s shoulder. "Is there any indication this could be connected to the other disappearances?" he asked, his voice calm but serious.

Sarah shot him a look, surprised by the question. She hadn’t thought he’d be that up to speed on the missing cops. It was a question she’d have asked if he hadn’t.

Rivers’ gaze flicked between them before he responded, voice low and gruff. "I was hoping we wouldn’t have to go there yet, but yeah—there’s a chance. Hayes is the third cop in two months to disappear. First one was from the 12th precinct, then one from the 19th. Now it’s one of ours."

"Third cop," Robert repeated, brow furrowing as he processed the information. "And no leads in the previous cases?"

"Not a damn thing," Rivers said, his frustration palpable. "Each case has gone cold. No ransom demands, no threats—just cops vanishing without a trace. I don’t need to tell you what that does to the department. Morale’s already shot. The higher-ups want answers, and they want them fast."

Sarah tapped her pen against her notepad, her mind racing. Cops didn’t just disappear. Not like this. Especially not without someone knowing something. And yet, here they were—three officers, gone. It wasn’t a coincidence.

"Has anyone considered the possibility of it being internal?" Sarah asked, looking up from the file. "Someone with access to information only a cop would know?"

Rivers gave her a long, hard stare, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind," he said. "But I don’t want to start pointing fingers unless we have something concrete. This precinct’s already under enough scrutiny."

Sarah leaned back in her chair, letting the silence hang for a moment. The weight of the situation settled on her. Another missing cop meant another black mark on the NYPD’s reputation, and they couldn’t afford any more bad press. The city was watching, the media was circling, and someone, somewhere, knew what was happening.

"Do we know if Hayes had any enemies?" Robert asked, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, almost too calm for the gravity of the situation, but his blue eyes were sharp, focused.

Rivers sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Not that we’ve found. But you know how it is—being a cop, you make enemies just by doing your job. Could be a perp with a grudge, could be something personal. It’s your job to figure out which."

Sarah glanced sideways at Robert, who was still studying the file. His calm demeanor hadn’t cracked, but she could see the gears turning in his head. Maybe he wasn’t as out of place as she’d first thought. Still, he had a lot to prove.

"What’s our first move?" Sarah asked, turning back to Rivers.

"You start where Hayes was last seen," Rivers replied, pointing to the file. "The bar. Talk to the bartender, anyone who might’ve seen him that night. Then check in with his wife again, see if she remembers anything else. I want every angle covered—no detail too small."

"Got it," Sarah said, snapping the file shut. She rose to her feet, Robert following her lead. "We’ll get started right away."

Rivers looked at them both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "One more thing," he added, voice lowering. "Keep this between you two for now. No need to stir the pot until we’ve got something solid."

Sarah nodded. "Understood."

She turned toward the door, already mapping out their first steps. But before she could leave, Rivers called after her.

"Martinez."

She paused, glancing back.

"Try not to eat the new guy alive," Rivers said, his tone gruff but laced with a trace of amusement. "He’s here to help."

Sarah’s eyes flicked to Robert, who raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the exchange.

"Don’t worry, Captain," Robert said with a half-smile. "I can handle myself."

"We’ll see about that," Sarah muttered under her breath as she pushed open the door and led the way out. Rivers’ words echoed in her mind, but she wasn’t ready to trust the new guy just yet.