[center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]https://media3.giphy.com/media/JjO095I2bZzLa/200.gif[/img]
Location: Wallace's Office and Other Areas of the Building[/center][hr][hr]Finishing dealing with Danica's case uploads, Cecily sat back in her chair, and took a few calming breaths. Back at Carnegie Mellon, during their orientation session, they had taught all of the students relaxation techniques. It was called purposeful procrastination. Cecily quickly deduced, however, it was to save the university money by having less students need to see a counselor for anxiety issues. 

In a brief minute, she found herself centered, and she stepped away from her work. It was her nature to assume the absolute worst case scenario, hence why she didn't chase after the woman. It also explained why she sent the recorded testimony to both Gregory and Riley: she assumed that someone would come back to finish the job. In Cecily's mind, another shooter could turn up at any moment, and this time, perhaps the bullet wouldn't miss. 

[color=00ccff]"We need to canvas the area and look for other witnesses,"[/color] Cecily instructed herself. Hardly anyone turned up to work on Saturdays, as with the insane work hours, people tended to not come in if they didn't have to. Wallace was no exception to that rule. She searched the building, her hands shaking mildly from the altercation.

At the end of the hallway, she found the janitor. 

[color=00ccff]"Did you see a blonde woman run off with a gun?"[/color] Cecily asked.

The janitor stared at her as if she were crazy. "Girl, the only blonde women I see in this joint are the stiffs. And yourself."

Cecily nodded, her shoulders slumping a bit, as she moved on. Eventually, she found a few of the newer members of the forensics team, fresh college graduates. They had a more predictable reaction when she questioned them--they began to scream, instantly pulling for their phones to text their mothers.

[color=00ccff]"Secure the crime scene,"[/color] Cecily ordered, mentally going through the same motions that she would on any other job. However, her voice cracked from time to time, and her hands continued to shake. Being shot at wasn't something that happened to forensic techs--they were isolated from the messiness of crime. They were brought evidence and analyzed it, never truly risking their lives. If crime was a chemical reaction, they were the spectator ions: present, but never actually involved. 

Her phone buzzed, as the terrified junior members sealed off Walace's office, and frantically began trying to call him. One of them even suggested checking his snapchat, to figure out where he was based off of his story.

Cecily simply stared at them, hoping desperately that they were joking. 

[color=00ccff]"You keep trying to call him, I've got to take this,"[/color] Cecily replied, walking out of sight of the younger members. Her hands shook as she slid her finger right across the screen, accepting the call. It was from Riley. Before she did so, however, she noticed that she had one unread voicemail. 

[color=00ccff]"Hello?"[/color] Cecily answered, attempting to sound fine, but her voice betrayed her once more. 

[color=cyan]"Cecily! I just got your text, is everything alright?"[/color]

Cecily paused for a moment, pondering how to respond to that question. [color=00ccff]"Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I'll call you back later,"[/color] Cecily apologized, glancing as a body was brought in for processing. [color=00ccff]"I've got to deal with a corpse."[/color]

She hanged up before Riley could say much, and walked over to the paramedics. All corpses looked the same at first, as no matter the wealth or status, they were brought in with the same body bags. In a way, it was the only time anyone could truly be equal. Without any sort of ceremony, the paramedics dropped the file on top, as well as the relevant evidence. 

"Seems your neighborhood is popular."

[color=00ccff]"I'm sorry?"[/color] Cecily asked, picking up the file. She opened it up, only to be greeted with the face of Lyle Marlestone. She hardly knew the bloke, but she had seen him around the court house, on the few occasions she was required to give expert testimony on the forensics used in the investigation. She glanced up at the paramedics, before down at the file once more.

[color=00ccff]"I work forensics, I'm not a medical examiner or a coroner,"[/color] Cecily explained awkwardly. [color=00ccff]"But...Yeah, I'll go put these things away."[/color]

She signed off on the chain of custody forms, and took the papers with her. Delicately pulling on the gurney, she brought Lyle's body to storage, sliding him inside a vacant slot. She marked it with his name, and glanced around, before sealing the area shut. Next, she went to the evidence locker, and filled the rest of the evidence away. All of this she did with her mind spinning faster and faster, and her earlier fear returning to her, despite never truly leaving.

Someone was picking off, one by one, the residents of Boston Heights. It was too odd to be suicides. She pulled the card from the terrifying Mexican out of her pocket, turning it over as she thought. She pulled out her phone, ready to dial the number, before remembering the voicemail. 

[color=orangered]"Miss Ashworth, this is Caesar. Por favor come and meet with me when you receive this. Need your help with something. You know where I'll be."[/color]

Cecily gulped. Maybe Caesar had been the one to put the hit on her, and the invitation was all a trick in order for her to be finished off. It'd be the perfect coverup, a security company. But...It wouldn't make sense, then, for them to prevent the media from trashing the crime scene. Murderers didn't try to preserve evidence. Cecily relaxed a bit. As soon as Gregory showed up and investigated the break-in, she'd find a way to slip off, and visit Caesar. 

She figured she could always claim to be shaken up after the attack--and it wasn't a lie, either.