The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era Chapter 794: THE SHADOW WITHIN (III)

DETECTIVE Lewis walked down the long hallway toward the coroner’s department. The steady noise of the precinct filled the surrounding space. Officers moved past carrying reports and evidence containers. Their conversations blended together into background sound that he barely paid attention to.

He kept his attention on the translucent screen projected in front of him.

Tech division had finally unlocked the victim’s personal Terminal. They had piled all the important information they could find about her and forwarded the summary to him.

Lewis moved one hand slightly, expanding the report as he walked.

IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED

Name: Miranda Kessler

Age: 25

Occupation: Data Archive Indexer, Greyhaven Municipal Records Department

Lewis paused briefly on the occupation.

Archive indexing meant long hours spent cataloging digital records and keeping storage systems organized. There was almost no field work involved. Very little interaction needed with other people as well. Most of the work happened alone inside secured offices.

He continued reading.

Family Status

Deceased parents. No registered guardians.

Surviving relatives listed as distant extended family. No recorded active contact.

No spouse. No emergency contact listed.

Lewis frowned as he read through the file. That meant fewer people to question, fewer connections to follow. No family nearby who might have noticed something off in her behavior. No partner to report her missing or mention someone who had been threatening her.

He flicked the screen downward and a medical access notice appeared next.

Medical Records

Detailed information restricted under patient-doctor confidentiality laws.

Only administrative data authorized for law enforcement viewing.

The accessible section expanded.

Registered Medical Facility: Greyhaven Central Hospital

Department: Psychological Services

Treatment Duration: 8 months

Attending Psychiatrist: Dr. Nathaniel Stevens

No diagnosis followed and no therapy notes were recorded. The documentation consisted solely of appointment confirmations and treatment registration dates.

Lewis had expected that. Psychological evaluations required court approval before release unless directly tied to an active warrant. Still, eight months of regular treatment meant Miranda Kessler had kept up with her hospital visits right up until she died.

He made a quiet mental note of the doctor’s name before minimizing the file.

The rest of the recovered data held only routine personal information. Her address. Job verification. Transit logs showing where she went. Nothing that explained why someone would take her, carry her body somewhere else, and cut out her heart.

Lewis closed his Terminal and opened the doors to the coroner’s wing. The smell of disinfectant greeted him immediately. Cold air rolled out to greet him when he stepped inside. The room was bright, with clean metal surfaces covering every counter and table.

At the center of the room, Miranda Kessler’s body lay on a steel autopsy slab.

A thin sheet covered her lower half, but her upper torso was left open for examination. The cut running across her abdomen and chest looked worse under the bright lights. With the blood cleaned away, the damage was clearer. Her ribs had been forced apart, leaving an empty space where her heart should have been.

Beside the slab stood the medical examiner.

Dr. Elena Vargas made a small adjustment on the floating interface in front of her. A tiny scanner, no bigger than a fist, hovered above the body. It moved slowly from the head down to the torso, sending out soft pulses of blue light as it mapped tissue damage in layers. Information streamed across the transparent screen near her, lines of analysis updating as the scanner did its job.

She didn’t look up right away. Her eyes stayed on the results moving across the screen.

Lewis approached, stopping a short distance away.

"Morning, Vargas."

Dr. Vargas turned at the sound of his voice. She pulled off one glove and gave him a brief nod. "Detective Lewis."

He glanced toward the body, then back at her. "Tell me you’ve got something."

She exhaled quietly and shifted the screen so both of them could see it.

"I’ve got preliminary findings," she said. "And you won’t like them."

Lewis crossed his arms. "I rarely do."

Vargas tapped the display, bringing up internal scans of the chest cavity.

"The cause of death is massive trauma bined with blood loss," she began. "But that’s not the part you need to focus on." She paused, her expression tightening slightly. "The heart was taken while she was still alive."

Lewis’s gaze snapped back to her. "You’re certain?"

"Yes." Vargas enlarged another section of the scan. "There’s extensive hemorrhaging around the surrounding tissue. The cardiovascular response confirms active circulation during removal. Her heart was functioning when it was taken."

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Lewis looked at Miranda’s body again, his jaw tight.

"She would have fought back," he said. "There should be defensive wounds."

"There aren’t any," Vargas answered. She pulled up another report on the screen. "The toxicology results explain it."

A chemical analysis appeared on the screen.

"Traces of a neuromuscular paralytic were found in her bloodstream. Fast acting. Strong enough to stop all voluntary muscle movement."

Lewis frowned. "A sedative?"

Vargas shook her head. "No. That’s the problem. This drug doesn’t render someone unconscious. It prevents movement while leaving cognitive function intact." She met his eyes. "She couldn’t move or fight back. But she would have known everything that was happening."

Lewis felt his stomach tighten.

"She felt everything," he said quietly.

Vargas nodded once. "The dosage suggests intentional control rather than an overdose. Whoever administered it knew exactly what they were doing."

Lewis stared at the results on the screen, different pieces starting to fit together. The body had been found in a public area. No witnesses had e forward. No one had reported hearing screams. His face grew darker.

"That’s why no one heard anything," he said. "She couldn’t call for help."

An icy feeling settled in his chest. He had handled enough cases to recognize when something was off, and this one had felt wrong from the start. Now, with each new piece of evidence, that feeling grew stronger. The kind of wrong that meant this case was about to get much worse.