I pinched the bridge of my nose as the frightened janitor raced off his side of the story. I collected the blood sample and searched the scarlet-painted room, squinting my eyes for anything apart from the Jack of hearts card in my white-gloved hand. From what I could tell, with the amount of blood loss, it was impossible for anyone to survive. So it was likely the victim was probably dead. I glanced back at the card in my hand with similar cursive strokes, voicing the killer's reasons.

He snatched them away from me.

"What did he say?" I tip-toed towards James. "A student puked in the cafeteria, so he went to get his tools where he heard angry whispers somewhere in the corridor. He went to check the voices but found no one nearby so he got his mop or whatever and then when he returned after cleaning," he sighed, rubbing his sunken eyes. "This is what he came to," I completed for him, to which he nodded, yawning. "Didn't get sleep last night?" I handed one of the evidence technicians the sample. Turning back to him, I met his lazy smile. "Yeah, I was kind of busy," he nodded, "Why was Antoine at home? Isn't he supposed to be here, in his office?" he snapped, then excused himself out of school as the rest of the team talked with the teachers.

All students were being sent back to their classes for an attendance check to see if anybody was missing while Charles, who came with me, called all the head staff to monitor every corner of the school in case there is any suspicious activity as the students were told to take precautions when given a week's holiday for their own safety and promised that their second term exams will continue after next week.

I noticed Myers pissing Aisha off by not taking part in any conversation with the teachers, then continuously asking her to repeat what they said. So on the way back, I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the parking lot with me. As we got in the car, from the corner of my eye I watched a familiar figure running towards the bus stop at the end of the road.

Is that Mitchelle? What's she doing here?

Back at the station, Myers, Aisha and I were going through Jack's diary where he ranted off about his overwhelming desires to teach his traitor's a lesson. We figured it could be the victims. "He sure seems violent. I think he's the one most probably," remarked August Meyers, standing up. "First it's his diary, he has a right to write his feelings- that's the whole point of having a diary. Second, yes, his teachers said he's a troubled child, but they said he would harm nobody," scoffed Aisha.

"I agree, but you can't deny his motives after reading his wishes. Besides, his attitude was terrible during the interrogation. James said he was super rude," I sided with Myers, "However, he doesn't seem to have any proof against him. On the evening of the first murder, he was working at the pebble beach golf club as seen from the CCTV footage. On the night of the second one, he was out with his friends- also his witnesses- in a bowling alley."

"When are the blood test results coming out?" Myers asked Ezra, who strode out of the Captain's office. "Give me seventy-two hours," he fixed his square-framed glasses and dialed on his phone, hurrying out of the precinct. He bumped into a very exhausted James entering the station with a big bag of McDonalds. "Lunch," he propped the takeaway on my desk and went to sit behind him. "Thanks Jamey," I grinned, "I owe you one."

"You better," he laid back, shutting his eyes. "You okay, James? You can take a day off if you like. Myers can do your paperwork, he's free," pointed Aisha to where the lazy bum was openly playing games on his phone. "What? Why? No way am I-"

But before Myers could protest, James thanked him and went to the Captain's office. "What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled, storming off to the Men's room. We grinned at each other before proceeding to read through Jack's diary. "He has a lot of mommy issues," she said, flipping over the pages. We were marking all the important pages in his diary, which mainly comprised him getting furious with his ex girlfriends and planning to ruin their lives along with him missing his biological mother left on the streets of Monterey.

The next day was seldom. When I returned to the station, news came to me about that up till now. They tested the DNA, but they found some impurities such as traces of a drug, so the testing would further go on for another twenty-six hours. Why was the day seldom? For us, because we lost the only suspect we had a grip on and for the principal, because his son's funeral was being held with a missing body.

My guess was right. It wasn't possible for anyone to survive with the amount of blood drained from the body enough to cover every inch of the janitor's closet. Therefore, it was appropriate to send condolences for the death at the moment. I drove to the funeral around the time the burial was finding a small minority there. Half of the attendees were us, and the other half were just Jack's friends-Raymond and Sully- who came with their family. Charles was talking, listening intently to whatever they were saying, eyes red rimmed and swollen from all the crying.

Although, there was one other person bawling her eyes out at the funeral. It was a raven-haired girl wearing a steamy leather jacket, and a helmet stuck between her arm. I walked up to her and patted on her shoulder. Her breath hitched as she turned around and snarled, "What?"

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that,"

"So?"

"I know it's bad timing, but can you answer a few questions?"

She stared at me momentarily like I was the one who killed Jack and sped off towards her bike. "That's his girlfriend," said James from behind me. I perked a brow to which he nodded. "Then we need to monitor her just in case," I looked back at her retrieving figure.

"All right, I'll do it. It's easy," said James, mockingly exasperated. "You're only doing it because stake outs help you procrastinate paperwork." I rolled my eyes at his wolfish grin. "You know me so well. August will have a wonderful time today," he snorted, pumping his fists in the air.

"Weren't you going to take a break? What was all the serious talking in the Captain's office about?" I asked, following him back to his car. "Oh that," he stopped, hesitating. "You'll know soon. Just..." he sighed as we reached his precious BMW.

"Don't let yourself down, okay?"

"Why?"

"Just don't. I don't want to hurt ya," he chuckled uncomfortably before getting in. "Why do you say that? You're scaring me," I asked, but he ignored me and hit the pedals, racing down to the station.

What the heck was that about?

Pushing what happened aside, I tried to figure out the case myself while simultaneously completing my stupid paperwork. As if documenting every detail wasn't hard enough, my mind was running wild. I tapped my pen against my desk at first, then stood up to pace around the precinct. "What's wrong?" Asked Aisha, looking up from her own screen. "Nothing," I replied, "I'm just going to feed on caffeine for a while."

Liar, you're going off to take a puff.

I ignored my guilty conscience. Every time stress took over me, I needed to inhale a stick of cigarette. Something Aisha was extremely against and something that started around the time Phoebe got sick. Aisha legitimately brought a fifteen page essay that her twelve-year-old did on why smoking was bad for your health and stapled it on my desk.

I headed to the backside of the station where our local Edwardian epoch styled cafe glowed a fluorescent golden colour. I used to come here with Phoebe; she loved to dress up like a doll and come here to eat cinnamon buns because it made her feel like royalty. Every time I did, Mitchelle sat in a corner reading a book or going through some case files wearing a bomb-ass suit for sure. She never really talked to any of us apart from work and I respected her for that, but I felt we could connect more through our similar tastes. Another example being passionate Meyers haters.

Speaking of whom, what was she doing at the university? From what I know, she didn't have any kids. Actually, I didn't know much about her- but when I asked; she said she lived alone.

I threw the cig and crushed it with my foot, the amber orange bud dying under the pressure. I was about to head back when a recognizable figure in a crisp suit strode into the cafe with a briefcase in one hand and a file tucked in the other. He ran a hand through his styled, gelled hair and sat with a flawless posture as he took out his laptop and started tapping away.

I observed him from afar. It was Charles, but unlike recently, he seemed perfectly fine. He didn't have swollen or red-rimmed eyes anymore, and the puffiness on his striking face had incredibly decreased. Strange.

But what was stranger, was that he was giving me the butterflies. That was not good. Until this case was over, it was inappropriate for a detective like me to get involved with some dead child's father. Nope. I ain't doing that.

I shook my head and sprinted back inside. The station was slowly getting back to its original state. Almost all the shared desks on the ground floor belonged to just one occupant at a time.

I went through my contacts and gave James a call. "Hello?" He picked up, his voice muffled. "How's the stake out going?" I leaned back in my chair. "So far so good, not a killer in sight."

"You don't know that," I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling. "Whatever," he chewed. "Are you eating?" I chuckled at his affirmation. "Yeah, and I was watching a movie on my phone until you called."

"So you weren't even paying attention?"

"I was... I was multitasking."

"Shut up and focus, you spoilt brat," I reprimanded before cutting the conversation. As soon as I did, an unknown number showed up on my screen. I picked it up.

"Hello?" I responded to furious sobbing on the other side of the phone. "I-it's M-Mitchelle," stuttered the woman on the phone. "Mitchelle, what happened?" I stood up, more attentive. Aisha looked at me from her desk. Nodding, she mouthed 'speaker'. I did as I was told and we listened intently through her continuous hiccups.

"He's killed another," she cried, "He killed my niece."