Chapter Text
Sloane and I are working downstairs in the basement with one of her new crime scene recreations of a two-year-old cold case. We were given the files for the case, but they didn’t include any photographs because they were considered ‘too graphic’.
“That splatter pattern looks wrong,” Sloane says with a frown.
I stare at the splatter created from the bag of fake blood I dropped on the floor at Sloane’s instructions. “What’s wrong with it?”
She sighs in frustration. “It’s spreading 12% faster than normal blood would. This fake blood just isn’t cutting it. We need a proper reference if we’re going to solve this cold case.”
A sparkle appears in her eyes as she quickly grabs her laptop. Her fingers fly across the keys.
Abandoning my post from the middle of the recreated crime scene, I head over to her and glance at her screen.
“Got it!” she shouts triumphantly. She grins at me as she turns the laptop towards me. Photos of the grisly crime scene cover her screen. My stomach churns at the sight, and I shift my gaze towards Sloane instead.
Sloane definitely hacked these from somewhere. And whoever decided they were ‘too graphic’ was absolutely right.
“Sloane, how do you look at photos like these?” I ask.
Crime scene recreations are one thing. Seeing the real thing is completely different.
“I look at them with my eyes,” she answers simply, reminding me that Sloane tends to take questions literally.
She turns her attention back towards the photos. “These photos are far better than the descriptions in those files,” she mutters. I take another quick glance at them and notice something else — a case file number followed by four letters: ICPO.
ICPO.
Full name: International Criminal Police Organization.
More commonly known as Interpol.
“Sloane!” I hiss in surprise. “You hacked the Interpol database?!”
“Yes. We needed the original photographs from the crime scene,” she replies casually, completely ignoring my shock.
Hacking the FBI databases was one thing — I had done that a few times before — but hacking into Interpol was a whole other level. Once the shock had faded, curiosity took its place.
“How did you do that? Please, you have to show me!” I excitedly ask her.
“It’s not as difficult as it looks,” Sloane answers with a smile. She starts to show me how she got through each layer of their security. We’re a few layers deep when Agent Sterling’s voice startles us both, “What’s this about hacking into Interpol?”
I jump and look up, only to find Celine trying to hold back her laughter. “Oh, the expression on both your faces was absolutely priceless.”
That’s the moment I found out about Celine’s other talent besides sketching — she can do perfect vocal impressions of people.
“Celine! You didn’t have to scare us like that!” Sloane protests in annoyance, but her frustration is short-lived as Celine walks behind her and wraps her arms around her in an embrace.
“I think we need to work on both of your ‘I swear I’m not doing anything wrong’ faces,” Celine says with a laugh. “You’re both going to get caught if you keep looking like deer in headlights.”
She clears her throat. “Anyways, I came down here to tell you two that dinner is ready. Judd made the best roast beef in the world.”
My mouth waters at the thought of Judd’s cooking.
I guess the ‘how to hack Interpol’ lesson is going to have to wait.