ã€ŠThe Hunter Book 1: The Case of the Fugitiveã€‹


 The Escape

    The moment has arrived. It''s only a matter of time before they come for me. I''ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. I was so excited that I couldn''t sleep at all last night. Finally, after ten long years, I will have the opportunity to speak, and I know that I will be listened to. They won''t have any other option but to hear me out.

    It¡¯s funny how I couldn¡¯t wait to leave this hell pit, but I stayed in here for longer, with my own free will, just to make a statement. I couldn¡¯t resist telling them what I truly think of this whole, stupid circus. I will, soon enough.

    In my tiny cell, I paced impatiently back and forth. What''s taking them so long? I glanced at my watch and realized there are five more minutes to go. I sighed, sat down on the edge of my bed, and gazed at the cell around me.

    I know every corner of this dark cage all too well. The stained, gray walls, the uncomfortable, metal bed, the cold, corroded steel gate, the leaking sink. This damned cage took away the best years of my life and the worst thing is, for a while, I thought I belonged to it. I thought I deserved it all.

    For a moment, I even began to like this cage. I¡¯m now ashamed, just thinking about it. This used to be my safe space, where I read books and wrote my diaries. It was the perfect way to escape my reality, and pretend like there is nobody else here but me. But since I learned the truth, it became my worst tormentor. It became the incarnation of every injustice bestowed upon me. I can¡¯t wait to break free of these walls.

    At last, I could hear the footsteps of the guards, coming to relieve me from my raging thoughts. Guard Thomas was leading them, with a huge smile on his face. He¡¯s a good man. Had my back when I needed it. He looks so happy for me, getting a chance to win my freedom back. Had we met in different circumstances, I would¡¯ve been glad to call him a good friend.

    ¡°Chris! I see you got ready early for your big day. I have to say, I¡¯m very excited for your release. More than I''ve ever been during my service in this damned hole. You¡¯re a decent man, Chris, and you have earned it.¡±

    A big day indeed. Bigger than anything you can imagine, Thomas.

    I replied to him in a conclusive manner, so that this conversation would end right there. I didn¡¯t have much patience left. After a quick body search for security, I was being led through the corridors of the prison to the big hall, where my parole hearing was scheduled to take place.

    To the naked eye, today is not so different from my first day here. Back then, I was also being escorted in the same way. However, while the outside appearance is largely the same, the man inside is nothing like he used to be.

    I always imagined these walls condemning me. Calling me a murderer. I used to walk among them with guilt and self-contempt. But now, I know, just like everyone else, that these walls were lying to me. I no longer have shame or regret, only rage and hate.

    We finally arrived at a large hall. One seat for me and a comically large table in front of three giant chairs for the committee members. Lots of blinding lights shining from the ceiling.

    Ten years here and I didn¡¯t know, till now, that such a hall existed! Guess the elegant suits need a suitable place to meet with us, miserable souls, that isn¡¯t too prison-like. They can¡¯t taint themselves by meeting us in our natural habitat, can they?

    I was seated and secured in the middle of the hall, and right in front of the parole board committee. What an absolute joke! Three people, who look like they never suffered a day in their lives, will decide if I deserve freedom or not. And based on what? Some lifeless documents, none of which was written by me!

    How could they know who I am? How could they understand how I came to be? They are absolutely clueless, and they are supposed to judge me? What a broken system!

    I¡¯m glad I don¡¯t need their freedom charity anymore.

    ¡°Welcome to your parole hearing, Mr. Jacobs. I have to say, your file looks great. Shows real reform and dedication to being a better person. We will discuss it with you shortly, but I have a good feeling about today.¡±

    HAHAHA reform and dedication for sure. Despite all my anger, I couldn¡¯t help but to grin at the irony of this sentence. The reform one would get here is not much different than the training a dog gets, before being given to an owner. I don¡¯t need to listen to this ridiculousness, especially coming from these people. That¡¯s why I raised my hands and hastily asked ¡°Can we begin with my personal statement?¡±

    The parole guy seemed shocked. I guess he¡¯s used to inmates acting submissively and waiting for his orders. Not this one. Not anymore. He consulted his two colleagues and smiled at me as he allowed me to speak with a hand gesture.

    I stood up, took a deep breath, and spoke my mind.

    *******

    On that Friday afternoon, the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, New York City, was a real beehive. Everyone was moving frantically in all directions, doing all kinds of things. It was chaotic.

    Correctional officers, the PR friendly name for prison guards, were doing checks on inmates, yelling at them left and right, and searching every inch of their cells. The administrative team ran everywhere, carrying files and documents, from one place to another. Every movement was dripping with stress and panic. It was clear, something big happened today.

    Through the chaos, the footsteps of a confident man were heard. He moved along the lengthy corridors of the prison. Calmly and orderly, unlike everyone else at the prison. He was clearly an outsider.

    He was in his early thirties, with messy blond hair, green eyes, and a carelessly-shaved beard, which matched the color of his hair. He was average height, but compensated for it with a well built body, and a dominant posture. His small nose and eyes almost didn¡¯t match his large chin. He wore a long black coat over a dark blue suit and tie.

    He maintained his walking speed, with complete disregard for the apparent chaos going on around him. He seemed to be a man on a mission, although he didn¡¯t look excited to be where he was. Shortly after, he stopped at the door to the prison¡¯s warden office.

    ¡°Detective Jonathan Milton. Precinct 66. The warden expects me.¡±

    After checking his police badge, the guard allowed detective Milton to enter the warden¡¯s office, who quickly got up to welcome his guest ¡°Good you¡¯ve arrived so soon, detective. I was getting anxious that I didn¡¯t communicate the urgency of the matter well to your chief. The situation we have is¡­time critical, if I might say. I¡¯m warden James. The man in charge of this correctional facility.¡±

    After the two men exchanged a firm handshake, Jonathan made his way to his designated seat. He took a moment to survey his surroundings, noting the sparse yet functional furnishings and equipment present in the warden''s office. With a sense of curiosity, he shifted his attention to the warden himself, trying to read what kind of man he is.

    The warden was a black man in his late fifties. He had a fully shaved head and beard, except for some white hairs on the sides of his head, and wore a bland police uniform. He gave the impression of a man who dedicated his whole life to his job and didn¡¯t want to waste time on anything, especially appearances. This time-criticality claim is probably nothing. Men who are obsessed with their jobs always think everything is critical. Detective Milton hoped his time wouldn¡¯t be wasted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about the urgency level, warden. To be honest, I still don¡¯t know why I¡¯ve been called here. The chief didn¡¯t provide me with much detail, but usual prison murders don¡¯t need any detective work at all. Everything is always as clear as day. The killer, the motive, the murder weapon. Nobody can hide secrets in such a highly monitored environment. Yet, I¡¯m here. May I know the reason?¡±

    ¡°You''re not here for a prison murder, detective. In fact, no murder took place yet, as far as we know.¡±

    Jonathan raised his eyebrows in shock and asked ¡°What? If there was no homicide committed, why was the homicide division summoned? What is exactly the situation here?¡±

    ¡°The situation here is a prison escape. This morning, one of our inmates has¡­¡±

    Jonathan stood up and interrupted angrily ¡°I¡¯m sorry, warden. This isn¡¯t our specialty. You¡¯ve called the wrong number. Now, I need to go and tend to more important cases.¡±

    ¡°Sit down, detective.¡± the warden firmly demanded with the confidence of a man who¡¯s never been disobeyed ¡°You haven''t heard anything yet. The situation involves a homicide. One that needs to be stopped before it happens.¡±

    Detective Milton stopped in his tracks, and slowly sat back down. His attention was successfully recaptured by the warden ¡°Now that sounds more interesting. Do you care to elaborate more, warden?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    James closed his eyes for a few seconds, recalling the events in his head. He opened them again and proceeded to explain. ¡°This morning, one of our inmates, who is serving a fifteen year sentence for a first degree manslaughter crime, has escaped the facility.¡±

    ¡°How did he escape? This prison is one of the most secure in the state!¡±

    ¡°Yes, indeed. But when you spend enough time in a place, you slowly build up knowledge of how it works. He¡¯s been here for ten years already. Three years longer than I have¡± Warden James stood up and walked to the window behind him, overlooking the prison¡¯s yard, observing his crumbling kingdom for a minute, before returning to his chair. Jonathan stared at him impatiently the whole time.

    ¡°Previously, he worked in the infirmary. We believe he was able to steal some pills that induce vomiting and nausea. A few months ago, he was transferred to work in the kitchen upon his request. This morning, he inserted the pills in some of the breakfast meals.

    Obviously, a dozen or more prisoners falling sick at the same moment has created turmoil, which he took advantage of to get into the grocery delivery car before it left. With the confusion and panic that swept over the prison, the car wasn''t searched properly by the guards. By the time we found out he was missing, it was already too late.¡±

    Jonathan nodded and said ¡°I see. Very clever. How long was he working in the infirmary?¡±

    ¡°Almost two years. We usually rotate every few months, so no prisoner would get too comfortable in one place. However, the infirmary is a very sensitive position, because of the drugs, and we only assign the inmates with the best record there, and keep them for a long time. His record was perfect.¡±

    Jonathan sarcastically noted ¡°Not that perfect anymore¡±

    The warden swallowed the comment and managed to keep his anger inside. How ridiculous is it to be judged by a man, who is half his age and experience! If he didn¡¯t need him, he would have kicked him out already.

    ¡°And what reason did he give to leave the infirmary and move to the kitchen?¡±

    ¡°He claimed the infirmary caused him to move less and that he was getting too lazy. He also said that he has had enough, putting up with the sick prisoners and their disgusting symptoms for two years.¡±

    Detective Milton sat back and started scratching his chin. He was in deep thought. The warden respected the silence, until Jonathan broke it with another question ¡°What about the expected murder? How did you learn about it?¡±

    ¡°When we searched his cell, we found a note. He was very brief and precise.¡±

    Warden James opened the drawer on his left, grabbed a piece of paper, and handed it to the detective.

    Jonathan looked at the note and read it aloud ¡°I¡¯ll be back once again. This time, for a murder I did commit. Keep my cell warm for me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s sad. In this place, you rarely see any men who were really reformed. Chris was one of those good ones. Never got into a minor quarrel with a guard or a fellow inmate. He read dozens of books, finished his education, and worked hard to earn respect. That¡¯s why we were all excited for his parole hearing. I helped him fill the paperwork myself.¡±

    Jonathan was astounded ¡°He was going to be released on parole? This doesn¡¯t make any sense!¡±

    ¡°He was on the path to getting released, but he ruined it. He went to his parole hearing, and started ranting about how he¡¯s innocent, and how he was framed and the broken system used him as a sacrificial lamb. He kept getting louder and louder, until he was eventually sent away. The parole denial was inevitable. We didn¡¯t know why this happened, and he didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone about it. We guessed it was fear of freedom, and requested a psychiatric evaluation, hoping we can get him another parole hearing, after he gets better. He escaped before any of this could happen.¡±

    Milton nodded and stood up ¡°I see. I need a copy of his file. Everything you have on him and his case. Please, have it sent to me at his cell.¡±

    The warden asked in doubt ¡°But why? We already searched every inch of it. There was nothing there but this note.¡±

    Milton ignored the question ¡°Thank you, warden. This is the most interesting case I have had for a while. I¡¯ll ask your guard to take me to the cell.¡±

    Warden James watched as the detective exited his office and shut the door. He then lowered himself onto his chair, retrieved his police badge from his pocket, and gazed at it while contemplating the destruction of his career happening right before his very eyes.

    *******

    In just a matter of minutes, Jonathan found himself standing right in the center of the fugitive''s cell. Upon taking a quick glance around, he couldn''t spot anything out of the ordinary. There were a few books lying on the stand beside the bed, while some used personal hygiene products were sitting by the sink. Nothing seemed to be suspicious or misplaced at all.

    He laid on the bed, his head resting on a firm pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. He was pondering the thoughts of a man who had spent a decade in this room. Why did he flee after being here for so long? And why did he sabotage his chance at a parole hearing? Surely, it would have been less dangerous to leave through proper channels. Could it be that revenge was his driving force? But who was the target of his vendetta?

    He started imagining spending a long streak of lonely, dark nights here in this cell. Days going by, taking the best years of someone¡¯s life. Frustrating, horrifying, humiliating, shameful, a huge psychological burden that only few can survive. Maybe the fugitive finally broke under all this pressure. But, who does he want to murder? He claimed he was innocent, why become a killer now?

    Due to the tight space in the cell, Milton started to feel he can¡¯t breathe. He sat upright on the bed. ¡°Well, I have to at least give him credit for not suffocating in this tiny box.¡±

    A big pile of books, stacked on top of each other on the side table, grabbed his attention next. He checked them one by one, throwing them on the bed next to him, as he quickly scanned them ¡°Fiction, history, law, politics, entertainment magazine. No particular taste. Seems like just a way to kill time. Nothing in common between these books.¡± Using his phone, he took photos of the cell and everything in it.

    At the same moment, a guard came and handed Milton the prisoner¡¯s file. He opened it and started reading the first page.

    Christofer Jacobs, African American, tall and quite slim from his photos, aged twenty nine, charged and convicted of first degree manslaughter, which he admitted to doing, at the age of nineteen. A fifteen year sentence was given, of which he already served ten.

    His victim was a girl he picked up in a bar, Rebecca Jackson. In the morning, the police got an anonymous tip from someone that heard sounds of a fight coming from her apartment at night. They broke in to find him asleep in her bed and some of the girl¡¯s blood scattered on the apartment¡¯s floor.

    He was arrested on the spot and interrogated. The young man was terrified and claimed to not know what happened. He was too drunk, and he thought he¡¯d have a fun time with this girl, but he doesn¡¯t remember much after they arrived at her place.

    The cameras at the bar where they met showed them leaving together. Her blood was found on the bed and in the hallway and it looked consistent with a body being dragged to the outside. That was all the evidence the police needed.

    After long hours under interrogation, the officers got him to confess the crime. But they couldn¡¯t get him to show them where the body was. He was taken to court nevertheless. He pled guilty, hoping for a reduced sentence, which he didn¡¯t get. This prison cell has been his home ever since.

    Milton stared at Chris¡¯s photos. He was too young. He looked like he didn¡¯t know what was going on, even while his mugshots were being taken. Under the living relatives section, there was only his mother, but he fled her house when he was eighteen. She didn¡¯t know anything about him for a full year before the murder allegedly took place.

    Jonathan looked up from the file. Why did Christofer confess back then and decide to declare his innocence after all those years? What changed?

    He closed the file and took it with him as he left the cell. He had already made up his mind. This was going to be his case.

    He walked through the prison¡¯s hallways again, but this time, he had a big smile on his face, as he found something he¡¯s been seeking for months. He got into his car and drove back to the precinct.

    As soon as detective Milton arrived in precinct 66, he headed directly to the chief¡¯s office. Chief Albert Willis was in his mid fifties, the color gray has conquered the majority of his hair. He had a big belly, burdened by all the fat that his reduced metabolism allowed inside his body, since he turned thirty. He was old, but he still had strength that showed in his face.

    Chief Willis welcomed the return of his top detective with a smile. ¡°Welcome back, Jon. So, what¡¯s the news? What¡¯s the big case warden James needed my best brain for? He sounded too anxious for a regular prisoner bathroom stabbing.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, It''s quite an interesting case, Al. A convict decides to sabotage his own parole hearing, which was a guaranteed freedom card, decides to escape instead, and leaves a note that he¡¯s going to kill someone.¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s very unusual. Even if he intended to commit the murder before the hearing, why waste this chance to get out of jail and instead opt for this unguaranteed escape attempt? I see now why my old friend, warden James, needed the extra brain. It¡¯s a puzzle indeed.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very mysterious. Although, I have the chance to stop this murder from ever happening, unlike our usual reactive process. It¡¯s the most interesting case I ever had.¡±

    ¡°Amazing! That was exactly the reason I came in here. An exciting new case. So, when do we start?¡±

    Both men turned to the source of the sound. It was none other than detective Jake Fisher, standing at the door of the chief¡¯s office.

    He was one of Jonathan¡¯s colleagues. A tall man with pale skin, and dark brown hair, that didn¡¯t fully cover the front of his head. He was in his late thirties, had a goatee beard, and wore square glasses that made him look kind of goofy.

    ¡°We aren¡¯t starting anything, Jake. I¡¯m working on this case by myself as I always do.¡± Jonathan coldly replied.

    Chief Willis expected this answer and quickly jumped in ¡°Jon, this case is a race against the clock. We need to find this fugitive before he commits the murder. Jake¡¯s help will ensure things go faster. You also need to be more of a team player for your next evaluation. The last one was too negative in this area, and I hate to see you wasting opportunities you deserve because of your loner attitude.¡±

    Jonathan objected ¡°Actually, Jake¡¯s supposed help will only slow me down. I will need hours just to explain the story, and that¡¯s precious time I don¡¯t have. Then, I¡¯ll have to tone down my working speed, so that he can catch up.¡±

    ¡°Are you calling me stupid? How dare you!¡±

    Jonathan completely ignored Jake¡¯s angry objection and continued. ¡°As for team effort, I don¡¯t mind him putting his name as a co-author of the report I¡¯ll write, after I solve this case, if he so chooses.¡±

    Jake angrily shouted ¡°I know what you¡¯re trying to do, Jon. You are taking over all high profile cases we get, so you can build up a strong case record fast, and take Al¡¯s job, when he retires. This isn¡¯t going to happen. Nobody deserves this job more than me, and I won¡¯t allow you to hijack my career. I¡¯ve been in this precinct long before you, kid.¡±

    Jonathan smirked. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in anyone¡¯s job. I¡¯m looking for a case that is worthy of my skills, and I finally found one. I don¡¯t need to share this with you or anyone. As for your career, I don¡¯t give a damn what happens to it.¡±

    He then turned to his boss and added ¡°I will be at my desk, going through the fugitive¡¯s file. I don¡¯t need any partners on this, Al. I promise you the same great results you¡¯ve always gotten from me. Trust me on this one.¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, Jonathan headed to his desk, leaving behind a furious colleague, and a disappointed boss. Jake turned to the chief, who decided to take the lead ¡°You still have an ongoing case I believe, Jake. The murder of that shop owner, Right? You finish that work and afterwards, you can join this new case, if it¡¯s not solved by then.¡±

    ¡°You know I already got everything figured out. We only need the lab¡¯s report and we¡¯ll have our case built against his nephew, whom I already arrested. My case is almost closed and I should join this one now.¡±

    ¡°So you have a suspect but no motive or incriminating evidence? How is that closed? Almost closed isn¡¯t the same thing as closed. Our prescient has a great track record, and I don¡¯t want to jeopardize it by having you distracted between two cases. Now, back to work.¡±

    Jake looked right in the chief¡¯s eyes ¡°I know what you¡¯re trying to do. I know you are considering nominating him for the job over me. I know you see him as your protege, and perhaps he reminds you of yourself, when you were younger. But you¡¯re giving him cases above his experience level and stepping over a more deserving detective like me. That won¡¯t fly with me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s only in your head, Jake.¡±

    ¡°Oh I know it¡¯s real. You do what you want, but I¡¯ll be closely watching. Eventually, he¡¯ll mess up and then, you¡¯ll have to answer why you gave him this special treatment.¡±

    ¡°You know what, Jake? Perhaps if you spent more time on analyzing your cases and less time analyzing me, you would have been done with your case already. If only you listened.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ridicule me! I won¡¯t be¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Chief Willis firmly interrupted, pounding with his fist on his desk ¡°I won¡¯t allow infighting to happen in this precinct. If you¡¯re as smart as you claim, you¡¯d know that insubordination isn¡¯t good for your file, when you desire to become chief of police. I gave an order. Now, leave and execute that order!¡±

    Jake furiously headed out of the office. He sat at his desk and started dialing the lab¡¯s number, hoping that his case¡¯s test results were ready.

    He sneaked a peak at Jonathan, who spread a big file on his desk and was completely consumed by what¡¯s in it. That has to be the case file. He needed this case. This will get his name mentioned in front of the right people.

    He muttered ¡°I¡¯ll show you, Jon.¡±

 Lost Soul

    It has been a whole day since I escaped from prison. I¡¯m finding it hard to keep track of time. Being out here in the cold, without any money or friends is tough, but I have no other option but to keep moving forward. As I wait at the bus stop, I¡¯m taking this moment to reflect on my situation.

    I feel fortunate because things worked out better than I expected. The chaos in the prison was more effective than I thought, and it distracted the guards longer than I needed to make my escape. Perhaps this is a sign that my revenge is meant to happen.

    After all I¡¯ve been through today, I¡¯m extremely exhausted. After I got far enough from the prison, I jumped out of the car while it slowed down for a turn. I continued on foot. My goal was to get out of Brooklyn at least and I did.

    I walked for six hours non stop, until I reached a park where I could lay low. It was night time already and it was getting cold, so I joined a group of homeless people, gathered around a fire.

    They were looking at me in doubt. I guess even my prison clothes looked cleaner than what those poor bastards were used to seeing. Maybe they suspected I¡¯m with the police, since my clothes had lots of blue in them.

    I offered one of them to switch clothes with me. He had some dirty, worn out clothes on, so he agreed to the upgrade, after a bit of hesitation. By that time, I couldn¡¯t resist any longer, as the fatigue took control of my body, and I slept for a couple of hours.

    And that was how I spent my first evening as a free man in years. Sleeping in the cold with a bunch of miserable strangers. I used to joke with other prisoners that I¡¯ll spend my first night out in the hottest club in New York, and dance till I fall unconscious. I guess life is never what you expect.

    Well, I don¡¯t have many complaints. Even though my first night of freedom wasn¡¯t great, it was still a significant improvement over my first night in captivity. That memory is still vivid in my mind, and it reminds me of how naive and inexperienced I was back then.

    I was constantly being shuffled from one place to another ¨C from jail to court to prison ¨C and I was completely bewildered by what was happening to me. It wasn¡¯t until I was being processed by the prison guards that I finally began to comprehend the gravity of my situation.

    ¡°Empty your pockets!¡±

    ¡°Take off this necklace!¡±

    ¡°Remove your clothes and wear this instead!¡±

    ¡°Carry this blanket to your cell!¡±

    It was only at that moment when I came to a profound realization. Going to prison is not just about being deprived of the freedom to go outside. It is a punishment because you have no control over anything that happens inside the walls, including what happens to your own body. Your possessions and your free will are confiscated, and if you lose your free will, can you still consider yourself to be human?

    I am not ashamed to admit. I cried that night. I couldn¡¯t believe I went into this captivity, right after I claimed my freedom. I escaped my controlling, alcoholic mother, and that¡¯s where I end up? For fifteen long years? I was only nineteen, man!

    For a few weeks, I was in a very low mood, feeling deeply sad and hopeless. I went through the motions of everyday life, but everything seemed hazy and unclear, as if I was in a trance-like state. My mind and senses felt numb, and I couldn¡¯t fully engage with the world around me.

    During this time, a few prisoners tried to persuade me to join their groups, but they quickly gave up on me. I appeared weak and frail, and my behavior seemed erratic and strange, making me an unlikely candidate for their group.

    I remained on auto pilot, as the days passed slowly, until one day, I saw a prisoner carrying a book during free time. I asked about it and someone mentioned a library in the prison. I thought it might be a good activity to kill time, so I headed there.

    That moment marked a turning point in my life when everything changed. It was then that I discovered a new possibility: that I could complete my education while serving my sentence in prison. And so I did just that. I spent every spare moment engrossed in books, using them as a way to escape the harsh reality of my surroundings.

    In doing so, I found a way to lift myself out of the deep depression that had consumed me. As I read, I began to feel a renewed sense of purpose and hope. I realized that even in prison, I had the power to change and grow as a person. And so I set out to do just that, to become a better man than I had been before my incarceration.

    I am unsure if I have caused someone¡¯s death. Many people claim that I have, but I cannot recall anything about it. It¡¯s possible that I did cause harm unintentionally. Maybe this is the way that God has chosen to redirect me from the wrong path that I was heading towards, and steer me towards a more virtuous one. Even though this journey may be challenging, I could emerge from it stronger and wiser.

    During my time as an inmate, I worked hard to become a model prisoner. I made a conscious effort to avoid any fights or breaking any rules. Instead, I focused on self-improvement, educating myself and exploring different cultural activities. My efforts did not go unnoticed by the guards and other prisoners, who appreciated my neutral stance and the respect I showed to all.

    As the years went by, I found myself feeling increasingly optimistic about the future. The passing of time seemed to accelerate, perhaps due to the busy and fulfilling life I had created for myself within the prison walls. I was proud of the person I had become, and hopeful that my efforts would pay off once my time behind bars was over.

    Until that day, when I found out.

    As I look outside, I notice that the bus is just around the corner. It¡¯s time for me to stop writing and get ready for my night journey. I¡¯m going to travel incognito to avoid being caught by the police. I need to take the next step in this journey. I have a date with my tormentor. The reason for my suffering for ten years.

    I wonder if this is the last time I write?

    *******

    Jonathan had a restless evening after returning home from work. He was determined to solve that mystery that had been bugging him, and he wanted to do it quickly. Therefore, he decided to make yet another cup of coffee to keep himself awake and alert. He then continued studying the case, through the file of Christofer Jacobs, the escaped convict.

    In the recent past, the cases he was assigned were mostly solved even before his arrival. These cases usually involved either jealous spouses or anxious business partners. The nature of his work has become dull and unexciting for him, and the thrill of chasing down murderers was a big factor in him taking on this job. As a result, he is becoming increasingly bored and disinterested in his job.

    As a young person, he discovered the fascinating world of Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot in their thrilling detective stories. These literary detectives sparked a passion in him to join the police force and pursue a career in solving crimes just like his heroes. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    He felt confident that he possessed the same abilities as his literary idols, but lacked the opportunity to demonstrate his skills. With this desire in mind, he worked hard to make his dream a reality and become a detective himself.

    The man¡¯s apartment was on the smaller side and had very minimal furnishings. Instead of separate rooms, the apartment was one open space with a couch and table near the entrance, a desk and chair for working, a small kitchenette, and a bed situated next to the bathroom. Given the high cost of living in New York City, he was content with what he had, and didn¡¯t require more, being single for a long time.

    He sat at his desk, reading the case files, and going through every document and testimony. He decided to review the prison¡¯s files, and the police testimonies from the day of the escape one more time.

    Chris was a prisoner who never broke any rules and followed all the regulations until he escaped. He was a model prisoner who showed enthusiasm for every activity available in the prison. It was evident that he had no intention of causing any trouble and only wished to serve his sentence.

    The conclusion was supported by the accounts of both the guards and prison administrators. Chris had accepted his sentence and was determined to make the most of his situation. However, something happened that caused him to change his mind and decide to escape. What was it that led to this sudden change of heart?

    Jonathan put down the file, and rubbed his eyes, in an attempt to get rid of sleep. It was time for collecting thoughts. He picked up his pen and started charting in his notebook. He wrote Chris¡¯s name in the middle, circled it, and started linking it to other smaller circles that each contained one of his questions.

    How? That¡¯s the easiest one. He sneaked in the food delivery car, after creating some distraction. However, Is it possible that he had help? The car driver or the guards who check it maybe? That would have been a great lead to finding him, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be correct. The testimonies of prison¡¯s personnel and the car driver all match perfectly. Moreover, Chris¡¯s file shows that he knows the facility very well. He was trusted unconditionally, and that¡¯s how he knew everything needed to escape.

    He didn¡¯t need help. It would have only increased the risk of someone snitching on him. Jonathan felt satisfied with this answer.

    Why? To avenge his imprisonment, which he feels was unjust. He lost ten full years of his life. That¡¯s enough reason to produce all the anger and frustration needed. That raises some more questions though. How was he indicted? Was Chris framed for this crime? Who framed him? And why? Convincing answers are still needed.

    Why now? The timing of the escape is very confusing. A man that claimed to be wrongfully imprisoned only decided to escape prison after already spending ten years in captivity! If he planned it all along, and was only waiting to get access to the necessary drugs, why did he stay in the infirmary for almost two years then? He didn¡¯t need that long to get access to the drugs. This escape was planned fairly recently, and whatever triggered it is key to figuring out Chris¡¯s next step. More investigation needed.

    What? The details of what happened ten years ago are also important. The file says Chris met a girl in a bar, they went to her apartment together, and the police were tipped in the morning that he killed her. The body was never found. He claimed to remember nothing. Is that really what happened? Or is there more to this murder than the convenient police story? To prevent the awaited murder, this one needs to be solved first.

    Who? The million dollar question. Who is Chris¡¯s next target? He feels wronged. He feels betrayed by the system, as he made it perfectly clear in his parole hearing. Maybe the judge from his trial? Maybe the officers who interrogated him? Maybe the inexperienced city lawyer that defended him? Or the person who he believes to have framed him? There are many possible targets. This question can only be answered after the previous ones.

    Jonathan leaned back in his chair, took a glance at the clock, and a sudden realization dawned on him that the night had nearly passed away. He had been engrossed in reading through each and every document, determined to complete the task at hand. And now, as he closed the last file, a feeling of satisfaction spread over him, causing a smile to form on his lips. This was no ordinary case; it was a challenge that was worth his time and effort.

    He got up and headed towards his bed for one or two hours of necessary sleep. He already knew what his first step was after waking up.

    *******

    Later on that very same night, in a club in Harlem, through the loud music and cheers of young people dancing, knocks on the back door were heard by the security team. One of them opened  and answered ¡°Oh it¡¯s Ricky. How are you doing, man? Why are you so late tonight?¡±

    A young, black, muscular man walked in, average height, short hair, wearing a purple, shiny suit, black shoes, and a golden necklace and earrings. He hugged the guard that opened the door for him. ¡°What¡¯s up, Tim. I¡¯m good but busy. Can¡¯t talk now. Where¡¯s the boss?¡±

    ¡°At his oval office of course.¡± the guard laughingly answered.

    Ricky walked towards the boss¡¯s office, making his way through the dance floor. Despite the pretty girls around him, he didn¡¯t spare them a glance. His attention was drawn to something more important.

    When he arrived at the office, another guard searched him for weapons before letting him in. Ricky took a deep breath and then knocked on the door, bracing himself for what was to come.

    He was let inside by another guard. It was a big office, shaped like half a circle, with some paintings of famous artists scattered on the walls, and a big, ebony desk right in the middle, with a golden chair behind it, and without any seating for the guests. The wall behind the desk was completely made of glass, and oversaw the entire club.

    Behind the chair, A large, white man stood. He had a strong physique for his age, which was definitely over fifty, his head was fully shaved, with no other facial hair. He wore a black tuxedo, with a big red rose peeking from the front pocket. He faced the glass wall, following the events of the other world downstairs.

    Silence reigned supreme for a few minutes until the boss cut it ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Ricky coughed to clear his throat ¡°Um Good evening, boss. It¡¯s Ricky. I hope you¡¯re having a great night.¡±

    ¡°Answer my question!¡±

    Ricky coughed again ¡°Yeah sure. I just saw something on the news today that you should know about. Do you remember Chris Jacobs?¡±

    The boss looked back, without turning his body ¡°Who the hell is that?¡±

    ¡°Ah um he¡¯s that kid I brought to you, when I first started working for you. I wanted him to join us, but he chickened out when he met you and asked to leave. Do you remember? It¡¯s been a while, like ten years now.¡±

    The boss let out a deep breath and lowered himself into the chair. Then, he swiveled it around to squarely face Ricky and held his gaze for a significant amount of time. As the seconds ticked by, Ricky began to feel very uncomfortable, but found himself unable to break eye contact with the boss.

    ¡°Ricky, have I ever told you why I don¡¯t have chairs in front of my desk for my visitors to sit?¡±

    ¡°Aah I don¡¯t know, boss. Why is that?¡±

    Ricky was punched hard in his stomach by the guard who had opened the door for him. The blow was so forceful that Ricky fell to his knees, and he couldn¡¯t help but moan in agony. The pain was intense and unbearable.

    ¡°Because in my presence, nobody should be comfortable.¡± The boss replied with a smile of content ¡°In my presence, nobody should think they¡¯re on the same level as me, nobody should recall old memories with me, as if we¡¯re best pals. Especially if that nobody works for me. Do you understand now, NOBODY?¡±

    ¡°I..I get it, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now, stand up! Fix your suit! You have another chance to talk. Use it well.¡±

    Ricky got back on his feet and wiped his leaking mouth ¡°This guy Chris. He¡¯s been here. He knows about our operations. Back then, I took care of him, like you asked. Today, he escaped prison. I thought you should know that.¡±

    ¡°Hmm so your skinny friend from ten years ago got himself into prison and decided to escape now. How does that concern me?¡±

    ¡°I..I just thought you should know about it. He could be trouble for us. An escaped convict, in need of shelter, in need of money, maybe he¡¯ll think of coming down here. That¡¯ll bring attention to our operation.¡±

    ¡°Oh Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. Problem for us? Our operation? Have you learned nothing?¡±

    Before the sentence ended, Ricky got another punch in the gut, which floored him again.

    ¡°Your friend is your problem, Ricky. You couldn¡¯t deal with him correctly back then. If you fail one more time, don¡¯t bother coming back here again.¡±

    Ricky fought his pain to stand and started backing up towards the door, while still looking at his boss. ¡°Yes, sir. I will take care of it. You won¡¯t have to hear about this again.¡±

    After Ricky left, the boss turned his chair to, once more, face the glass wall. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and immediately seemed to forget all about the conversation they had.

    He was a businessman and he needed to focus on business.

    He continued to look at his kingdom below.

 Chasing Ghosts

    ¡°Please, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. Why am I here?¡±

    ¡°Shut up, boy!¡±

    I will always remember this day. The worst day of my life. I will remember every word, and how it was said, and by whom. I was convicted before I was told what it is that I¡¯m charged with, and I had no idea why. With each passing moment, my fear and confusion worked with the investigator against me, and I was successfully broken.

    As I was taken into custody, I was still reeling from the effects of excessive drinking the night prior. It was not until I found myself in the interrogation room that I regained full awareness. Prior to that moment, I had mistakenly assumed that the woman with whom I had spent the night had departed before I woke up, likely to attend work or some other engagement. Furthermore, I had believed that my arrest was somehow related to something else entirely.

    I was seated by them, and they assured me that they would return shortly to provide me with an explanation. However, after several minutes had elapsed, I grew increasingly bewildered and called out for assistance. Despite my repeated pleas, an hour passed without any response. I continued to call out in distress, as I believed that they had forgotten about me. They never acknowledged my existence.

    I lost track of time after several hours had passed, due to my severe headache caused by the hangover and dehydration. While in this state, an officer abruptly opened the door and sat down in front of me, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°Why did you kill her, you bastard?¡±

    ¡°Killed whom, sir? I didn¡¯t kill anyone.¡± I was terrified.

    ¡°You know what I¡¯m talking about. Don¡¯t play the fool, boy.¡±

    ¡°I swear, I don¡¯t know anything about any killing.¡±

    The officer stood up and hit the table with both hands ¡°Stop Lying! You met the poor girl yesterday, took her to her place, and killed her, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t, I swear.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you did. Is it because she wanted you to leave? She didn¡¯t like you anymore, once she got sober? Did you want to sell her some drugs, and she refused? Oh It doesn¡¯t matter why, you did it and we got you now, boy.¡±

    The officer stormed out of the interrogation room and slammed the door shut behind him. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. What was that? Do they really think I killed her? Do I need a lawyer? I don¡¯t even remember what happened! Why can¡¯t I remember? Did I drink that much?

    Another hour passed before the officer returned ¡°Are you ready to confess? You know, this is just a formality. We already have all the evidence we need to indict you.¡±

    ¡°How can I confess to something I didn¡¯t do? I don¡¯t even know what actually happened.¡± I started to sob.

    ¡°Stop with the crocodile tears, boy. We have her blood in the apartment, where you spent the night. We have the murder weapon, with your fingerprints on it. We have eye witnesses, testifying to seeing her leaving the bar with you, and others who saw her entering her apartment with you. We have everything. The only thing I want from you is to tell us where you threw away the body, so we can give your victim a proper burial. But you? we already got you, boy.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it. I didn¡¯t do it¡± I was now fully crying.

    Once again, the police officer left the room, and returned after another hour. This time, he was a lot calmer and seemed sympathetic. ¡°Son, I want to help you. All the evidence is against you. If you keep denying, you will get a life sentence. That means never seeing the light of day again. Do you really want that? If you talk to us, we¡¯ll get you a reduced sentence. You will be charged with manslaughter instead of murder and you will only serve a couple of years. Let me help you, son.¡±

    I was unable to respond to anything, overwhelmed with tears, and feeling confused and helpless. This situation started when I met a girl at a bar and we hit it off. We ended up going back to her place and things were going smoothly, but suddenly my mind went blank. I began to question if she had tried to stop me, if I had acted violently towards her, or even if I had caused her harm. If I ended her life.

    The officer pushed a sheet of paper in front of me. ¡°You know what, you don¡¯t even have to lead us to the body. I know it must be hard for you to see her, after what you did to her. Just sign this confession. We¡¯ll take everything into consideration. You¡¯re young. You were drunk. You cooperated with us. You¡¯ll go to an easy prison, and you¡¯ll be out in two years. Just sign!¡±

    I had been there for nine consecutive hours, and by that point, I was completely unsure if the officer''s advice was trustworthy. My nerves were a wreck, and I was on the verge of a breakdown. The evidence presented to me made me doubt myself, and as a result, I ended up signing the confession.

    Since I am now certain of my innocence, I realize that I shouldn''t have signed the document. However, I take responsibility for my actions, as I am equally responsible for what happened to me. At the time, I was young and had no support system to rely on.

    I was taken advantage of by an officer who prioritized closing a case over the truth. His actions had a devastating impact on my life. In my opinion, his behavior was so egregious that he deserves to face severe consequences, even to the point of death.

    Why is this bus ride taking so long?

    *******

    For many detectives, one of the most challenging tasks is collecting information about a cold case. A case that was closed many years ago.

    They¡¯d have the file in their hands with tons of information that they couldn¡¯t trust. How could they trust information from years or sometimes decades ago! All evidence was destroyed, some witnesses have moved far away, and those who didn¡¯t can¡¯t remember much. Nothing is reliable.

    However, Jonathan wasn''t a typical detective. He wasn''t just trying to close a case; he was motivated by the excitement of the chase. Typically, he pursued murderers, but in this instance, he was searching for the victim. His curiosity and desire for truth were driving forces, and he had numerous unanswered questions that he couldn¡¯t bear leaving them hanging.

    That¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t sleep more than three hours, despite his fatigue. He woke up and within ten minutes, he was already on his way out. During the night, he had decided to talk to the original officer who investigated the case. The lead investigation officer is the only one who has an overall view of the case. He might not remember much, but he¡¯s the best shot for getting any leads at all.

    Before anything else, he felt the urge to understand Christofer Jacobs better. He desired to experience life through Christofer''s perspective, and therefore decided to visit his mother''s house where Christofer spent his childhood.

    Her small apartment was located in a building in Harlem. Jonathan noticed the difficult living conditions as he climbed the stairs. The area could be considered a visual representation of poverty in the dictionary

    He knocked on the door and waited until it was answered by an old lady, who only slightly opened ¡°Yes?¡±

    Jonathan smiled ¡°Mrs. Jacobs I believe? I¡¯m detective Milton from the NYPD. If you don¡¯t mind, I need to ask a few questions about your son.¡±

    ¡°I have no desire to talk about him. He¡¯s been dead to me for a long time." She proceeded to close the door.

    ¡°Wait, please.¡± Jonathan blocked the door with his foot. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard, but yesterday he escaped from prison.¡±

    ¡°Oh I¡¯ve seen it on the news indeed. I still don¡¯t care though. We haven¡¯t been in contact for years and I don¡¯t need him back in my life with his troubles.¡±

    ¡°Mrs. Jacobs. I know you¡¯ve probably been hurt when Chris ran away from home and ended up in jail, but..¡±

    ¡°HAHAHA what are you talking about, detective? It was the happiest day of my life, when this loser ran away. I didn¡¯t want this irresponsible, lazy, idiot in my home any longer than that. He took after his father, even though they never met. If he hadn¡¯t run away, I would have murdered him and ended up in jail myself. Now, excuse me. I got laundry to do.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mrs. Jacobs closed the door with a surprising amount of strength for her age, which caught Jonathan off guard. He gazed at the door for a moment before concluding that he had seen enough.

    Based on what he just saw, it appears that Chris had a very difficult and traumatic childhood. His mother seemed to blame him for his father''s absence and lack of involvement in his life, and it''s possible that he was physically abused, given how strong his mother seemed to be. When he was finally old enough, he made the decision to leave and never come back, which was likely the best choice for him.

    However, this visit helped Jonathan realize something. Why would Christofer waste his newly found freedom from his cruel mother by committing a murder? That doesn¡¯t make sense. He was finally free from abuse, and had a whole new life waiting for him. Most likely, Chris didn¡¯t kill that girl. Then, who was it? It¡¯s time to visit officer Shirley, the man who arrested and interrogated Chris.

    Jonathan made a quick phone call to the precinct and found out that Officer Shirley had already retired. However, he was able to get Officer Shirley''s current address, which turned out to be in New York. Fortunately, Jonathan wouldn¡¯t have to waste time traveling elsewhere.

    He drove to his new destination and on the way, he called the lab to see if they got any results from scanning the prison cell. They couldn¡¯t find much. No foreign fingerprints or DNA samples. No phone records of calls made by Christofer to the outside world that have meaningful information either. They had nothing for him.

    Despite feeling discouraged, he didn''t let it stop him. He hoped Officer Shirley could shed some light and provide some leads. He made his way to Officer Shirley''s house which was a small two-story house with a small garage for the family car.

    He exited the car and walked towards the front door when he heard a voice calling him ¡°Can I help you?¡±

    As he heard the voice, he turned towards its source. The speaker was a Caucasian man, aged around fifty-five, who had a head full of white hair and a cleanly shaven face. He had small blue eyes and a pointed chin. He was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt, which appeared to be soiled from working on his car in the garage he had just emerged from.

    ¡°My name is detective Jonathan Milton¡± Jonathan showed his badge ¡°Are you officer Shirley?¡±

    ¡°Haha Shirley, yes. Not a police officer anymore though. I¡¯m retired now.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I learned that after calling your old precinct. Do you mind if I ask you some questions about an old case you worked on? It¡¯s over ten years old though.¡±

    ¡°Not at all, pal. I¡¯d love to help out. Which old scumbag of mine are you after?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m after a fugitive who escaped prison. He left a note that he¡¯ll commit murder, and I need to find him before it happens. The name is Christofer Jacobs. Do you remember him?¡± Jonathan showed Shirley a photo of Chris.

    ¡°Oh I think I do. I will never forget these bastards I encountered throughout the years. He killed a girl he picked up in a bar. He confessed, but didn¡¯t want to lead us to the body. The bastard didn¡¯t want to give her family the peace of burying her properly. When did he escape? Why did they let him? Prisons in this city are getting really soft.¡±

    ¡°He escaped yesterday, and nobody let him do anything. He was smart and laid out a successful plan. Have you considered that maybe he didn¡¯t do it though? Maybe he was framed for murder?¡±

    ¡°Surely not. If he¡¯s innocent, why did he confess? Also, all the evidence was against him. Her blood was in the apartment that he spent the night in. He was seen by her neighbors going into the apartment with her. I mean, we never got to her body, but he confessed goddammit. Why would we need a body when we have a confession?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you forgotten one thing though?¡± Jonathan smiled.

    ¡°What do you mean, detective?¡± officer Shirley started getting defensive.

    ¡°A very important element of any murder. The murder weapon. What about the murder weapon?¡±

    ¡°We never found it. He must have gotten rid of it, where he threw the body. Again, that¡¯s not important, when we have a confession. He told us he killed her.¡±

    ¡°He told you the words you put in his head. You told him you found the murder weapon with his fingerprints over it. You lied to him to get that confession.¡±

    ¡°Who told you that?¡±

    ¡°You did. I spent last night watching the whole interrogation video. It was hard to find in the archive, but I¡¯m persistent. Almost ten hours recorded with less than an hour of actual inquiries. You didn¡¯t care for the truth at all. You wanted to psychologically break him. You lied to him to get that confession, officer.¡±

    ¡°I got the killer to confess. That was my job and I did it well. The method doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s the killer.¡± Officer Shirley became more agitated.

    ¡°Oh how convincing. He goes home with a girl and kills her, he goes out to dump her body, and then returns to the murder scene to get some sleep. Do you really believe that? Do you actually believe you got the killer?¡±

    ¡°Again. We got his confession. He confessed. Why would an innocent man willingly confess to murder?¡±

    ¡°You psychologically tortured a literal kid to get him in a weak mental state, you fed him lies, you pretended to be on his side, and that he will get a reduced sentence, only if he signs that piece of paper. Is it so unbelievable that he¡¯d sign, despite being innocent? You knew what you were doing. You set him up to rot in prison without real incriminating evidence.¡±

    ¡°I DO know that he¡¯s the killer. I¡¯ve been in this line of work since before you were born, kid. I knew exactly what happened, the moment I saw that bastard. He got drunk and let the animal inside him out on this poor girl. That¡¯s what these people are like.¡±

    ¡°Oh And who exactly do you mean by these people? Young men? Black men? Could you clarify?¡±

    The veteran officer stayed silent, trying to keep his anger at Jonathan from getting him in trouble.

    ¡°Well, we both know what you meant, even if you wouldn¡¯t admit it.¡± Jonathan concluded.

    ¡°Anything else I can do for you so you can get off my property, detective?¡±

    ¡°Yes, who was the informant? Who tipped you about the murder?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know. It was anonymous. He called our precinct directly and not 911 so, we don¡¯t have a recording of the call. Probably a neighbor.¡±

    ¡°Okay. One last thing. I know that you already found out about Chris¡¯s escape before I told you. I can see the gun you have hidden underneath your shirt. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s after you, but I advise you to leave the house for a day or two until we catch him.¡±

    Shirley growled like a hunting dawg ¡°Let him come. I¡¯m not going anywhere. I¡¯m ready for that animal.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s up to you. I¡¯ll arrange a stakeout unit for your house for two days. Although you don¡¯t deserve it, I won¡¯t let you ruin his life again. I¡¯ll get to him first.¡±

    Jonathan headed back to his car as officer Shirley watched him on, while touching his gun, in order to feel safer.

    Jonathan quickly made a call to ensure that Shirley was safe. He couldn''t find any helpful information except for reaching the conclusion that Chris was likely framed. Everything he had heard today made it hard to believe that Chris could be a killer. He was another victim in this murder. It seemed that an angry mother and a corrupt police officer had gotten him into this situation.

    Since he¡¯s been framed for the murder, then it makes sense that his target is whoever framed him. It makes sense that he somehow found out about it and decided to escape to get his revenge. But who was it? And how did Chris find out? He wasn¡¯t receiving any visits, so how did he get information from the outside?

    Suddenly, a light bulb lit up in Jonathan¡¯s head. Nobody delivered any information to Chris from the outside. He got them himself from the inside. From the prison¡¯s library.

    He quickly searched his phone for the photos he took at Chris¡¯s cell. He went through them until he found the photo of the magazine. An entertainment magazine issue from four months ago. The clue he needs must be in there.

    He drove to the closest bookstore and found the magazine issue he needed. Then, he returned to the car and began going through it.

    Something about the murder is in this magazine, and it made Chris so angry that he risked it all to escape. It had to be something that points out to the real killer, who framed Chris. He didn¡¯t know what to look for, so he skimmed through the pages quickly to see what he could eliminate.

    Some celebrities getting arrested, another getting released from jail, another getting married, and another getting divorced. An interview from a movie set. An article about the rise of internet celebrities and their cults. Hard to see how any of that fits into the murder.

    ¡°Maybe I shouldn¡¯t be looking for words. Maybe I should be looking for faces.¡±

    He began examining the magazine starting from the first page and went through every picture, unsure of what he was searching for but hoping he would recognize it when he saw it. He had already reviewed the entire case file and had even met some of the people mentioned in it. He kept looking through the magazine for any familiar faces or names, but unfortunately, he didn''t find any.

    He didn¡¯t give up though, he started looking closer at the people in the background of each picture and ¡°...WHAT? REBECCA!¡±

    Jonathan¡¯s jaws dropped as he saw the person he expected least to find in this magazine. It was the victim herself! The girl who is believed to be murdered that night! Rebecca Jackson.

    She appeared in the background of one of the photos in the article from the movie set. The article was definitely about a recent movie. That means she¡¯s alive. She looked like she worked on the set of the movie. But how? Her blood was found in the apartment. She completely disappeared afterwards.

    Could it be someone who looks like her? She¡¯s only in the background of a medium quality picture. Maybe the resemblance tricked Chris into thinking Rebecca was still alive. Is he after her? Does he think she framed him for her own murder? There is one way to find out.

    Jonathan threw everything in the seat next to him, started the car, and pushed the gas pedal as hard as he could. In his head, one question kept presenting itself.

    Will he get to her in time?

    He was so consumed by that question, so much that he didn¡¯t notice the car behind him. A car which has been following him for a while.

 Wrong Turn

    I have finally reached my destination after a long and tiring journey on a night bus. At one point, I began to doubt if we would ever arrive. Now that I am off the bus, I find myself in an area where I spent much of my childhood. It''s strange to think that I am now trying to conceal my identity here by pulling down my baseball hat and avoiding eye contact, hoping to go unnoticed.

    I should also assume that my face was all over local news. It¡¯s wise not to draw too much attention. Luckily, I know these streets very well. I don¡¯t need to ask around and I surely won¡¯t look out of place. Nobody will stop me today.

    It''s ironic, but I felt exactly that way on the day I left my mom''s house. At the age of nineteen, I no longer needed a guardian, so nobody could stop me from doing what I wanted. I was free from my mom''s control and abuse, and I didn''t have to follow any rules set by teachers since I dropped out of school. It was like being a bird that can fly freely.

    Although I was young, I was not naive. I understood that I needed to secure a source of income and a place to live; living on the streets was not an option. I had a few acquaintances from school, but only Ricky seemed like a suitable choice. He was one year older than me and had left school earlier. While I did not stay in touch with him much, I knew he had a spacious place and a decent income.

    ¡°Hey, Ricky buddy! It¡¯s me, Chris. From high school.¡±

    ¡°Hey, dawg. How is it kicking?¡±

    ¡°Not much going on. I got out of school and my mom¡¯s apartment and only have you standing between me and homelessness. What¡¯s up with you, bro?¡±

    ¡°Haha you¡¯re a funny dawg, Chris. Don¡¯t worry. I can hook you up with something.¡±

    It was a short discussion, but it gave me hope that I didn¡¯t make a mistake. I went to the address Ricky had described. It wasn¡¯t the fanciest area, it was Harlem after all, but his building was fairly new and his apartment was big and well equipped.

    I was impressed and hopeful that I¡¯ll get to the same status as him soon. He allowed me to stay with him until I could arrange something for myself. I thanked him and promised that I¡¯ll go find a job first thing in the morning. He just smiled and nodded.

    The upcoming days were difficult for me because I was aware that my limited qualifications would limit my job options. I decided to focus my job search on fast food chains as they usually have many job openings that don''t require high qualifications. Unfortunately, I faced an unexpectedly high number of job rejections during this search.

    In the end, I went to Ricky for advice.

    ¡°Oh dawg. You think it¡¯s easy finding a job in this economy with no education? This is no use. I mean, the only good thing you got going on for you is not having a criminal record. Not even smoking weed.¡±

    ¡°And what can I do with that, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°Well, there is one line of business where having no criminal record is very valuable. The business of crime.¡±

    ¡°No, man. I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t prove my mom right. I¡¯m not like that. I want to earn an honest living.¡±

    Ricky winked ¡°You¡¯d only prove her right if you get caught.¡±

    ¡°Everyone gets caught eventually no matter how good they are. I don¡¯t know, brother.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, you don¡¯t know. Not everyone gets caught. The law was designed with intentional loopholes, so that the rich and powerful could slip through them whenever it was needed. You and I, if we do crime, we¡¯ll do time. But we can¡¯t live on minimum wage either. So, the only solution for us is to be pawns for those rich and powerful and do what they say. Then, we get their protection and we get to enjoy their leftovers. Do you understand now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Is there no other way¡±

    Ricky caught me and turned me around ¡°Take a look, dawg. Do you think I could have afforded all of this in this short time working at McDonald¡¯s? There are laws in this universe and one of them is if you wanna get big, you gotta hit it big. So, what¡¯s your final answer?¡±

    I realized that Ricky would not let me stay with him for long if I refused to join his crew after our conversation. I attempted to convince myself that it might be worth considerin. Ricky was earning a lot of money quickly without being caught since he began, so perhaps I could join him for a while, save up some money, and then leave to start an honest life. It was a possibility.

    ¡°Okay, Ricky. I accept your offer. What will we be doing exactly?¡±

    ¡°Good decision, dawg. Now, before you start, you¡¯ll need to meet the boss. He makes sure to examine all new employees himself. You need to earn his trust, if you want to join.¡±

    I nodded, feeling unable to speak or act. Later that day, Ricky and I were scheduled to meet with the boss at his club. I couldn''t understand why this boss was still involved in illegal business, especially considering the sizable profits that could be earned from the club. I wondered if he truly needed more money, despite already having a substantial amount.

    We entered his office. He was reading through some documents and we had to remain silent, until he addressed us. Ricky had told me that he has to start any conversation he¡¯s in. I guess this was his intimidation method of choice.

    We stood for about ten minutes. I tried to whisper something to Ricky, but he firmly stopped me.

    ¡°Is your friend getting impatient already, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°No, sir. He just needs to learn the manners of being in your presence.¡±

    At that age, I had a big ego. I was proud and didn¡¯t like being called without manners, but I swallowed it. I knew I was not safe in this place.

    ¡°He looks upset, Ricky. Doesn¡¯t he like it here?¡±

    ¡°He does. He has no other place. He only looks upset because he¡¯s been through a lot lately. I explained to him and he¡¯s willing to do anything to survive, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good, good.¡± He turned his gaze to me ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°My name is Chris, sir.¡±

    ¡°Do you have prior experience?¡±

    ¡°I only did small jobs at school like newspaper delivery and¡­¡±

    ¡°Are you joking, boy?¡± The boss was steaming.

    Ricky quickly jumped in ¡°He isn¡¯t, sir. He¡¯s just still so green. I explained to him that we¡¯re working in the dark. He hasn¡¯t done anything similar before. His record is clean.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good. It¡¯s always valuable having an empty record with the blues. I¡¯ll take you. You¡¯ll learn eventually. It¡¯s not rocket science for god¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I don¡¯t mean to disrespect, but what will I learn exactly?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t explain in detail, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I thought it¡¯d be better to wait and see where you want to allocate him, sir.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll work with one of the girls of course. Same as you in the beginning. Then, he might be used elsewhere if he proves his usefulness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What girls?¡± I asked confused, switching my eyes between the boss and Ricky.

    ¡°It¡¯s very simple, dawg. You handle the girls. You go with them to their appointments. You wait downstairs. You stand by in case they send an SOS and only then, you¡¯d intervene. You go in, get the girl, and get out as fast as possible. Rarely anything bad happens though, so don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°A pimp? That¡¯s the job you got for me, Ricky?¡± I objected in disgust which irritated the boss who screamed at me ¡°Are you raising your voice in my office, scumbag?¡±

    I was frightened and took a step or two back. A huge buddy guard pushed me back to my place next to Ricky. I realized I made a huge mistake by voicing my opinion in this way. I tried to apologize, but kept stuttering out of fear.

    ¡°What? What are you saying? Get this idiot friend of yours out of here, Ricky. Then, come back here. You need to be taught the proper way of recruiting new meat.¡±

    Ricky was as scared as me but he was able to drag me out of the office. He didn¡¯t say a word, although I realized I couldn¡¯t rely on him to be my friend anymore. He led me all the way outside of the club and closed the door behind me, without saying a word.

    I walked aimlessly for a while, not knowing what to do. I couldn¡¯t go back to Ricky after this. Finally, I entered a bar, as I needed a drink after all this. After calming down, I called Ricky with hopes that I can apologize enough to get myself a place to sleep tonight. He didn¡¯t answer, so I left a message telling him where I was. I didn¡¯t hear back from him though.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Later in the evening, I was beginning to accept my fate of being homeless, until that girl showed up. I thought she was an angel, sent to me from heaven to save me from the streets. I was so wrong. Now that I know the truth, she was actually the devil¡¯s arm that dragged me to hell. But I''m free again, devil.

    I¡¯m here at your door.

    Knock knock. Open up.

    *******

    As the sunset approached, Jonathan drove across the city like a madman. He was racing against time. It¡¯s been over a day since Chris escaped. He must be so close to his target already. He needed to get there before it¡¯s too late.

    He had already called the movie production company and learned that the shooting had concluded. They didn¡¯t have information about the woman in the picture, but they gave him the contacts of the casting director.

    That second call also resulted in no address. The casting director had no idea who she was. He guessed that she was an extra and told Jonathan about the name of the agency which provided extras for that movie.

    He arrived at their office as he knew that they deal with hundreds if not thousands of aspiring actors. Mentioning the article and describing the woman in a phone call wasn¡¯t going to jog their memories. He needed a more hands on approach

    At the front desk, they were preparing to log off work and didn¡¯t want to waste time with him. However, he was firm and decisive. He forced them to give him access to their files and went through each actress who worked on that movie as an extra.

    He asked them if someone else came and asked the same questions, but they denied and assured him they don¡¯t give their clients¡¯ information to anyone. Chris could have found her another way though.

    He soon found the one he¡¯s looking for. A much clearer photo than that in the magazine. In the beginning, he thought it might have been a lookalike, which Chris¡¯s desperation blamed for his misery. However, he was now sure he was looking at Rebecca Jackson. No doubt about it.

    Despite some changes to her appearance, such as shorter blonde hair with brownish highlights, a smaller nose, and her previous brown hair being gone, she still had the same skin tone, eye color, jawline, and overall features. It was unmistakably the supposed murder victim.

    There are several unanswered questions about her disappearance. How did she vanish? Why was her blood discovered in the apartment? And where has she been all this time? Despite having many questions, he can only hope that she''ll get the opportunity to provide answers.

    He wrote her address and drove as fast as he could to her studio apartment. He parked a couple of blocks away, so he wouldn¡¯t attract Chris¡¯s attention, if he was indeed in the area. He walked hastily towards the building with his hand on his gun.

    He circled the building first, for fear that Chris might be watching it from the outside, but he didn¡¯t find anyone. He rushed inside and in seconds, he was standing in front of the apartment door. He tried to hear from the outside, it was dead silence. He rang the bell but without answer. Is it too late? Did Chris already get to her? He couldn¡¯t wait any longer, so he decided to kick the door open.

    He was able to scan the entirety of the small apartment right from the door, and there was nobody there. Only the bathroom was a possible hiding place. He walked towards it with his gun leading the way. Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened ¡°No please, don¡¯t kill me!¡±

    It was none other than the woman who was supposed to be dead a decade ago herself. Rebecca Jackson.

    She was wrapped in a towel, just out of the shower. She was frightened and started to cry. She clearly thought Jonathan was there to kill her. He put down his gun and tried to comfort her ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m NYPD. I¡¯m here to help you. Get dressed and I¡¯ll explain everything.¡±

    She remained scared, but grabbed her clothes, which were laying on the bed, and went back into the bathroom to comply. Jonathan used the time to lock the window and door.

    Moments later, Rebecca came out dressed in her bathroom robe. She remained skeptical and Jonathan noticed, so he quickly showed his badge and put the gun back in the holster, to make her feel safer.

    ¡°What the hell was that? Why did you break into my apartment like this? Is the NYPD terrorizing citizens instead of protecting them now?¡±

    ¡°No, we don¡¯t terrorize our citizens. Which citizen are you though? What would you like me to call you?¡±

    ¡°What? You broke into my house, and you don¡¯t even know my name? What are you doing here then?¡±

    ¡°I know your name. I know both of them actually.You know what? I¡¯ll call you by the original one. Rebecca.¡±

    Rebecca shook and it was obvious she hadn¡¯t heard the name being said aloud for long. Jonathan noticed she was nervous and decided that the best way to get her to talk fast is to attack ¡°So, would you care to explain how you¡¯re still alive, or should we do that at the precinct instead?¡±

    ¡°What? I¡¯m being arrested?¡±

    ¡°For sure. What did you think the consequences of your actions were going to be? You falsified your own murder and someone got in prison for it. He lost a decade of his life. Did you think you¡¯ll never get punished for that?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it would come to this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you did. You¡¯re not stupid. No stupid girl would try to make it in show business. Now, talk. Tell me what happened, Rebecca.¡±

    She thought for a minute, realizing her secrets had been revealed. No point in hiding them anymore ¡°Okay. Yes, I¡¯m Rebecca Jackson. Ten years ago, I worked as a prostitute for a powerful man. He ran a big network of girls, who mostly were runaway teenagers, just like me. I didn¡¯t want this life. Who would? But I didn¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only interested in the fake murder.¡±

    ¡°I know. I just need to explain how it was for me at the time. We were all controlled like puppets. Either with drugs or stupid puppy love. We each had a handler who would pimp us, and take care of us. I got into this life because it was this or homelessness, but I wanted to get out from day one. I always dreamed of being an actress. Not this.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you run away like you did from your parents¡¯ house? Why was it so hard?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, they had us on leeches. My leech was drugs. Also, our boss was very powerful. He had many people in important places under his control, either with money or with scandalous affairs with the girls. From police officers to judges. Anywhere I¡¯d run, he would have found me. He also named a price for each of us, and if we could save up the money, he would release us. We had our fear of him, and hope of paying what we owe him and earning our freedom back to keep us obedient.¡±

    ¡°And? Did he ask you to frame Chris for murder?¡±

    ¡°No, I never had one conversation with him. We only communicated with our handlers. Mine was called Ricky. He was the one to agree with me on everything.¡±

    ¡°What was his deal for you exactly?¡±

    ¡°He said I could earn five thousands and use them alongside what I¡¯ve saved up to set myself free. He also offered the services of a friend of his who could forge new documents for me. A brand new life free of everything and everyone.¡±

    ¡°And in return?¡±

    ¡°The boss needed me for a unique job. He wanted me to go to a bar and pick a guy up. He said this guy refused to work for the boss and was disrespectful. The boss wanted to teach him a lesson. I really thought this was just a way to control him, and force him to accept the job. I only knew about his whole trial a week after and only from the news. I had no idea.¡±

    Rebecca buried her face in her hands and started to cry. Jonathan knew he had no time for her meltdown though, so he continued ¡°Rebecca. Christopher escaped yesterday from prison. You probably heard about it in the news, but what we didn¡¯t announce is that he left a note threatening to kill someone. We¡¯re running out of time. We need to get to him soon.¡±

    ¡°Is..Is he out to kill me?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure. Not until I know the full story. Please, continue.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I got to the bar and chatted with him for a while. He told me that his friend wouldn¡¯t answer his calls, because he rejected a job offer earlier that day, and embarrassed him in front of his boss. He said he didn¡¯t have a place to go. Ricky had already told me all of that. He told me he¡¯d be vulnerable and prone to my seduction.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°I got him drinking. Ricky wanted him to be hazy about what happened. Then, I started kissing him and offered him to come back to my place. The poor guy couldn¡¯t have been happier to escape spending the night in the streets.¡±

    ¡°What happened when you arrived?¡±

    ¡°I slipped him a couple of sleeping pills in another drink and took him to the bedroom. He couldn¡¯t fight for long and just slept. Then, I texted Ricky and he came into the apartment. He helped me undress him and then he made a cut in my hand with his knife. He wanted to spill some of my blood on the floor. I thought it was to scare Chris and get leverage on him. I thought the worst thing that would happen to him is be forced to work for the boss for fear that he would call the police on him if he didn¡¯t. I never thought he¡¯d go to prison.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡±

    ¡°Then, Ricky gave me the money. He asked me to go to a motel and lay low for a few days, until he called me. He did after three days and gave me the money I needed to go pay up my ransom to the boss. I did and he gave me my freedom back. I couldn¡¯t believe it. On the same day, Ricky gave me the new documents. A new identity and a whole new life.¡±

    ¡°A life that you had stolen from Christofer Jacobs of course.¡±

    ¡°I swear I had no idea. All I could think of is they wanted some leverage on the guy to get him to work for them. Forcing him to be a pimp is horrible I know. But it isn¡¯t as bad as prison. And he would have been able to pay a ransom and leave like I did.¡±

    ¡°So, you didn¡¯t call the cops and turn him in?¡±

    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t even know the cops got involved until a week later from the news.¡±

    ¡°And you did nothing to stop it.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t. I told you, he¡¯s got many powerful men protecting him. That includes cops. I even remember seeing the district attorney at the time with one of the girls. He controlled so many people that could help him find me and ruin my life. I did call Ricky. He answered the phone and pretended not to know who I was. I got the message loud and clear. On the record, I was dead already. It wouldn¡¯t be hard for them to confirm that status.¡±

    ¡°It might have been more honorable to die.¡±

    ¡°I know. I¡¯m a monster. But I¡¯m also a victim. I didn¡¯t ask for any of this. I was the same age as Christofer.¡±

    Jonathan stood up ¡°How do I find this old boss of yours?¡±

    ¡°He owns a club in Harlem. It¡¯s called The Black Rose.¡±

    ¡°Alright. I advise you to head to the police station now and confess everything.¡±

    ¡°Is he coming to kill me? Chris I mean.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I think Chris knew when he saw you in that magazine that you don¡¯t have the abilities to plan all of this yourself. I think he knows very well the dangerous man whom he crossed paths with on that day. He¡¯s not after you. He¡¯s after your former boss.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry. I didn¡¯t know what would happen. Please, show me some mercy¡±

    Jonathan walked towards the door ¡°Go to the station and confess everything. That¡¯ll help you get a reduced sentence. If you run away, I¡¯ll come after you, arrest you, and you¡¯ll get a worse sentence. That¡¯s all the mercy I could show you.¡±

    Rebecca resumed her crying, as she saw her life, once more, get turned upside down. Jonathan didn¡¯t pay much attention to her as he exited the door. He was only thinking about getting to the Black Rose in time.

    He didn¡¯t care much for the well being of a criminal who enslaved young girls and trafficked them, but he cared for Chris, even though they never met in person.

    He believed that Chris had a shot at redemption, but only if he didn''t pull the trigger on this man.

    Only then, he could be saved. The only question was, will Jonathan get to him in time?

    Or will he lose this race to destiny?

 Tick Tock

    During Jonathan¡¯s confrontation with Rebecca, Chris was so close to his target that he could smell him. He was standing on the other side of the street, with his eyes on the club, The Black Rose. A place he entered ten years ago, and was sentenced there to death by imprisonment.

    He has been keeping an eye on the location for a few hours, anticipating the boss''s arrival. As time passed, he grew restless and decided to jot down some additional entries in his diary, recounting his personal experiences. In addition, he had already purchased a firearm from a dubious individual in a nearby alleyway.

    He was fully prepared. He had already penned his story, held the weapon for revenge, and was close to catching his target. At this point, nothing could impede him.

    A few moments later, a large black car pulled up. He waited to see who would emerge from it. Although he had only seen Ricky''s boss once, his face had been etched into his memory forever. The driver stepped out of the car and opened the rear door. A man got out of the car, and it was indeed Ricky''s boss.

    He stood and took a proud look at his club. He then proceeded to walk towards the main entrance. Chris held the gun strong in his right hand. He ran out of the bush he was hiding in.

    ¡°REVEN¡­¡±

    Just as he was about to let out a battle cry, someone tackled him, causing him to fall to the ground. Chris attempted to aim his gun at the attacker, but the person swiftly pinned his hand to the ground.

    ¡°It¡¯s me, Chris. I¡¯m Ricky.¡±

    Chris stopped resisting ¡°Ricky? How did you find me?¡± He took a look at the boss, who was a couple of steps away from the door now ¡°Let me go. I have to do this.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot. You can¡¯t reach him. The guards will get to you first and you will accomplish nothing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s either me or him. One of us will die today. Let go of me!¡±

    ¡°No. I won¡¯t let you. He¡¯s already inside. It¡¯s over, Chris. You lost your chance.¡±

    Chris started sobbing ¡°Why did you stop me? This was supposed to be my moment of revenge. If I can¡¯t get to him, then I wasted ten years of my life for nothing. I got nothing.¡±

    Ricky started to loosen his grab of Chris, and began helping him get up ¡°That isn¡¯t true, dawg. You still have your whole life ahead of you. He took ten years from you. Don¡¯t let him take even more. Come with me. I¡¯ll help you get out of here.¡±

    Chris was experiencing a nervous breakdown, but he may have been saved from committing a violent act by his inherent goodness or by the words of Ricky. Regardless of the reason, Chris gave up his weapon to Ricky and allowed him to lead him to his nearby car, where Ricky took control of the driving.

    As Ricky drove, Chris watched the hustle and bustle of the busy streets outside the car window. He couldn''t believe how much was happening out there, and realized how much he had missed. He wondered if he could catch up on everything now.

    ¡°Where are we going, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t take you to my place. The police have been around. They¡¯re looking for you, and my place was your last known address. We¡¯ll go to one of the boss¡¯s warehouses. I know it¡¯s empty today, so it shouldn¡¯t have any guards.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hiding me in a place that belongs to my tormentor? I¡¯d rather rot in the streets. That man framed me for murder and took away ten years of my life.¡±

    ¡°We don''t need to stay there for long. I¡¯ll get you out of this whole mess soon and for good. Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Chris felt sorry for his friend. Ten years ago, Ricky was trying to help him. He tried to get him a job. He wanted him to succeed in life. Indeed, it was via a criminal path, but Ricky didn¡¯t know any other way. He truly tried to help him. Now, he has to deal with his mess again.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ricky. I know I put you through so much trouble. I hate that you have to clean up after me again, but I have nobody else. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Chris. That¡¯s what homies are for.¡±

    Ricky continued driving for a while longer, until he reached the warehouse ¡°Let¡¯s go, brother. We¡¯re there.¡±

    Chris exited the car before Ricky and both of them went inside the warehouse. Ricky shut the door behind them. The warehouse was spacious with towering ceilings, but all the boxes, scattered in every corner, were empty.

    He then looked at Chris who had turned his back on him. Ricky reached out to the gun in his pocket, which he had taken from Chris earlier.

    He stared at Chris.

    *******

    Through the darkness of a moonless night, Jonathan drove as fast as he could, attempting to arrive in Harlem on time. As a result, he arrived at The Black Rose in half the time it would normally take. He didn¡¯t know if that was soon enough though. Not until he gets in there.

    He rushed to the front door and showed his badge ¡°Detective Jonathan Milton. I need to see your boss now.¡±

    ¡°Is there a warrant or something, detective?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, here it is.¡±

    Jonathan pretended to reach for something in his pocket, but instead punched the guard in his jaw. The guard lost his balance from the surprise attack, while Jonathan ran inside. He managed to invade the sea of dancers, climb the staircase, and break into the boss¡¯s office.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Who the hell are you? Brock, teach that drunk idiot a lesson.¡±

    ¡°Not so fast, Brock. Not unless you want to go to jail for assaulting a police officer.¡± Jonathan showed his badge quickly and turned to the angry club owner ¡°Are you Richard Lucas?¡±

    ¡°Who are you? How dare you break into my office? What¡¯s your precinct and badge number? Your days in the force are numbered, officer.¡±

    ¡°A detective, actually. I¡¯m here to save your life. Well, it¡¯s a side effect of what I¡¯m actually trying to do. An unintended one, but I will allow it.¡±

    ¡°Oh and what are you trying to save, great savior?¡±

    ¡°The life of a man that you have already ruined. Christopher Jacobs. Do you remember him?¡±

    ¡°Argh why does everyone think that this nobody has any significance to me? I don¡¯t want to hear about him. I¡¯ve got a business to run.¡±

    ¡°But you should hear about him, Mr. Lucas. You framed him for murder ten years ago. Now, he¡¯s escaped and he wants revenge. He wants to kill you.¡±

    ¡°What is this nonsense? I didn¡¯t frame anyone for anything! Do you have any evidence to support your claims, detective?¡±

    ¡°Denying what you did won¡¯t help you. You might escape prison, but he¡¯ll keep coming for you. You should confess and then, he¡¯ll have less reasons to surrender to his anger. I know you think you¡¯re protected in this high castle of yours. But there is nothing more dangerous than a man with a vengeance. He¡¯ll find a way and he¡¯ll get to you sooner or later. I can¡¯t let that happen. I can¡¯t stand by and let an innocent man¡¯s life go to waste. Confess now! It¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very noble of you, detective. However, I don¡¯t have anything to confess. I don¡¯t have anything to hide either. So, I¡¯ll talk to you.¡±

    Lucas sat down at his desk and lit up a cigar ¡°I did meet that kid once. He wanted a job at my club and came with a friend of his that works for me. He refused the job and I taught his friend a lesson for wasting my time. He still works for me to this day. There is nothing for anyone to avenge.¡±

    ¡°I met Rebecca. She told me what you asked her to do.¡±

    ¡°Rebecca? Do you mean Becky? Oh I haven¡¯t seen this girl in ages. Where did she end up? She was working for me as a means to repay a debt. One day, she came and paid me back in cash. That was all. I always wondered how she collected the money so fast. It was a shame. She was a great waitress and we really lost her.¡±

    ¡°Enough with the games. This isn¡¯t the truth. We both know she wasn¡¯t a waitress here. We both know your real business. You also paid her that money to frame Chris for murder and she used it with what she saved up to set herself free.¡±

    ¡°What nonsense is this? But let¡¯s suppose you¡¯re right, detective. If I wanted her to do something illegal for me in exchange for relieving her from her debt, why would I give her some money, just so she could pay it back to me again? I would have just given the order and deducted a part of what she owes me. You¡¯re not making any sense.¡±

    Jonathan thought for a moment. That actually checks out. Why would Lucas give his slave some money, only so she could pay him back the next day? Rebecca said Ricky, her pimp, gave her the money. He told her the job came from the boss. Did it though? Or did it come from Ricky himself?

    ¡°You said I wasn¡¯t the first one to mention Chris to you. Who was the other?¡±

    ¡°His friend that works for me. Ricky. He was the one who tried to get your fugitive working for me back then. They were school buddies or something. I don¡¯t really care. He came to tell me the news of his escape and he was worried he would attempt something.¡±

    ¡°Ricky was the one who gave the money to Rebecca all those years back. You sent him to her.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god. You don¡¯t listen at all, do you? I didn¡¯t send anything to anyone. I don¡¯t have time to waste on these nobodies. I have a huge business to run here. That rat you¡¯re trying to find didn¡¯t agree to the job and I found a replacement in an hour. I mean, everyone wants to be a bartender at the hottest club in the city.¡±

    Jonathan didn¡¯t catch the sarcasm. ¡°Well, if you didn¡¯t give him the money for Rebecca, then who..¡± Then it finally hit Jonathan. Ricky did it. On his own. He planned everything and used his boss¡¯s name as cover.

    ¡°Did the cat eat your tongue, detective?¡±

    Jonathan stayed silent, but his mind was working fast. Ricky gave the money to Rebecca and assigned her the job. She never heard a word from his boss. Ricky knew everything needed about Chris for Rebecca to do her assignment. His mental state and vulnerability. His place. Ricky also had a motive. He was betrayed by Chris who backed down at the last minute and embarrassed him in front of his boss. He even got punished for Chris¡¯s actions. It was all him.

    ¡°You should leave now, detective. Like I said, I¡¯ve got a business to run.¡±

    Jonathan turned his attention to Lucas once more ¡°You didn¡¯t frame Chris for murder for revenge. You don¡¯t care that much if someone refuses to work for you. A man like you has many people lined up to work for him anyway.¡±

    ¡°Finally! I¡¯ve been explaining long enough.¡±

    ¡°Although you didn¡¯t orchestrate this, you were the perfect fall guy. You¡¯re a crime boss. You control the lives of many innocent girls and manipulate so many. That¡¯s why Ricky used your name.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got big allegations, but I don¡¯t see any evidence. I don¡¯t see any warrants or arrest attempts either. I would like you to leave my property now, detective.¡±

    ¡°I will leave when I¡¯m ready. Ricky decided to frame his friend for murder. He paid Rebecca to help him and relied on Chris¡¯s inexperience and the cops'' bias in this area against black young men to get him charged. But he also was a coward. He didn¡¯t know for sure if his hastily put together plan was going to work. That¡¯s why he used your name and pretended he¡¯s acting upon your orders.¡±

    Lucas became angrier than he ever was since Jonathan arrived ¡°This insect. He was nothing, until I made him a man. Now, he is trying to blame me for his stupid actions.¡±

    ¡°I need you to tell me where he is. I need to stop him before he kills Chris, or worse, Chris kills him.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help you, detective.¡±

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. You shouldn¡¯t send your men after him. The situation is critical. Both men have their backs against the wall and can do anything if pressured.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where that traitor is. I¡¯m an honest man. I don¡¯t send hitmen after my employees. My only course of action here is to fire him, which is my right according to law. I¡¯m always following the law.¡±

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll get there myself. You should know one thing though. One day, our paths will cross again. When that happens, I¡¯ll take you down.¡± Lucas watched in rage as Jonathan left his office.

    ¡°Brock. Go find that insect. I want him and his friend dead. No loose ends. Do you understand?¡±

    Brock nodded and headed outside as well.

    When Jonathan reached his car, he was still thinking where Ricky might be. He wants to make it look like his boss is behind everything. If that¡¯s the case, he¡¯ll want to get rid of Chris in a place that is somehow linked to his boss. It¡¯s not the club. That¡¯s too lively. It has to be another place. Somewhere quiet and remote.

    He made a call to the station to get a list of all properties owned by Richard Lucas in New York. Some apartments, warehouses, and an empty piece of land.

    The apartments wouldn¡¯t work, since there are neighbors and too many people overall. The empty land is also risky with cars passing by, and their drivers being able to see everything. It has to be one of the three warehouses. He has to check them all.

    He got behind the wheel again and pushed the gas pedal as hard as he could. Chris can be killed any minute now.

    There isn¡¯t too much time left.