Virgil drops into the chair at his desk, tossing the gun that he always has on his person onto his bed as he goes. Ever since returning from abroad, Virgil hasn't felt safe without one. He sits, and immediately courses a hand through his hair, still a bit dazed. What kind of man had he just met? Even during the entire taxi ride home, he couldn't stop thinking about him. How had Logan known all of those things?

New thought. Virgil hurriedly reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his phone. He swipes it open, and opens his text messages. The top one is labelled "SENT",  and it's addressed to an unknown number. Virgil clicks it open.

If the brother has a green ladder, arrest brother.

-LH

Virgil stares at this. What?

He turns to his computer, setting his phone aside. He enters the passcode, and opens it. He opens a new browser window, and begins to type into the search bar:

Logan Holmes

---

A queue at the taxi rank leading out of the railway station. In the line, shuffling along, is Jennifer Wilson. She's dressed head to toe in red, down to her heels and acrylic nails, and her red-cased iPhone, that she has pressed to her ear.

"I'll be there in an hour, I promise." She speaks into it. "Honestly, I'll be there. You get the drinks in."

She shuffles forward again in the queue.

---

A small glass bottle stands on its own on bare floorboards. It holds only a few white and red speckled pills under its screw-on cap.

A hand, with carefully manicured red-painted nails reaches forward, and wraps around the bottle.

There's a choking sound, a gasp, and then silence.