I placed my hands on the keyboard, mulling over what to write next. James was right—the team either skipped this room entirely or didn’t bother checking the laptop. They loved half-assing their work, leaving us to clean up the mess. What a bunch of jerks.

Jacob clearly anticipated this scenario, setting up these messages as a safeguard in case someone—or something—got to him. The laptop might hold critical clues, but we’d need to analyze it further to know for sure.

“James! Leo!” I called, raising my voice. “Come here.”

Leo was the first to stride in, followed closely by James. I recounted everything about the laptop, from the bizarre messages to the strange interactions. Both men listened in silence, exchanging thoughtful glances as I finished.

“Well, that’s... something,” Leo said, scratching his head. “So, we’re chatting with a dead guy now?”

“Did the messages mention who ‘they’ are?” James asked, crossing his arms.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “He didn’t. I think we can send this—”

A loud boom erupted to my right. Instinctively, I ducked toward the doorway. The damned laptop was on fire, sparks flying from the outlet connected to its battery port. Smoke billowed upward, and four or five seconds later, the sprinkler system activated. Water poured down from every corner of the apartment, drenching everything in sight.

“Shit!” I swore under my breath, darting into the corridor. Running a hand through my now-soaked hair, I cursed the bad luck.

James, Leo, and the remaining forensic team rushed out as well. Unlike James and Leo, the forensics crew shot me accusing glares, probably blaming me for setting off the sprinklers. I couldn't blame them; I wouldn’t want to go home in this state either. Especially when the hour was this late.

“Perfect,” I muttered with a dull voice. “Just perfect.”

“Nice going, C,” Leo quipped, peeling off his drenched coat. “Hey, looks like Jacob wanted to take his porn stash to the grave. Respect, honestly.”

“Have either of you found anything related to glue or wine?” I asked, ignoring his jab.

James frowned. “Glue and wine? Not me. You, Leo?”

“Nothing,” Leo replied, shrugging. “Why do you ask? Those don’t exactly go together, though.”

“The victim’s hands smelled like glue and wine,” I explained. “There was another faint scent, but I couldn’t place it.”

Leo’s expression shifted as he raised his hand to his nose, sniffing it once, then twice. James and I watched him with puzzled looks. He seemed to be thinking of something.

“Uh… guys,” Leo muttered, his tone hesitant. “My hand smells like glue.”

“Glue?” I grabbed his hand and took a sniff. “Yeah, it does.”

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“Whoa!” Leo yanked his hand back, mock outrage on his face. “At least buy me dinner first, you creep.”

James rolled his eyes. “You searched the kitchen, right? C had the bedroom, and I took the bathroom.”

“Yeah,” Leo confirmed. “I checked the containers and drawers, but I don’t know where the smell came from.”

“We need to get back inside,” I said, peering into the apartment. The sprinklers were still going strong. “Damn. Hope the water hasn’t ruined any evidence.”

“Here’s hoping,” James muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “This Jacob guy... what a disaster. Shit.”

As the sprinkler system finally ceased, we ventured back inside, heading straight to the kitchen. Everything was soaked. Frying pans and plates were scattered across the floor, and the small wooden table by the balcony door seemed untouched, save for the water dripping off its edges. On the table was a photo of Jacob and Mire, his girlfriend, smiling together at that very spot.

To the right of the balcony door stood the fridge, its doors wide open—likely from Leo’s earlier search. The counters were mostly cleared, though a few forks and spoons lay here and there, along with a toaster that had probably shorted out from the water. Beneath the counters, cabinet doors were ajar, revealing pans, plates, and containers of ingredients.

“We need to find the source of that glue smell,” James said, scanning the room. “Any idea where you last searched, Leo? Try to remember.”

Leo frowned, scratching his head. “I started there,” he said, pointing to one corner, “then checked that side, moved here… then C called me. Oh, right. The last place I looked was under the table.”

I crouched by the table and shone my phone’s flashlight underneath. At first glance, everything appeared normal—dark wood, textured surfaces. But something felt off. One of the table legs had a slightly different finish, and when I touched it, it felt looser than the others.

James nudged me and held out his phone. On the screen was a search result for the table model, its name etched into one of the legs. The photos confirmed what I suspected: this table was supposed to have only three legs, not four. Additionally, the photo of Jacob with his girlfriend further supported my theory; the table in the photo also had three legs.

“That leg’s an add-on,” I said, gripping it. “Looks like it was glued in place.”

Before I could yank it, Jane entered the kitchen, glancing around at the drenched chaos. “What the hell happened in here?”

Leo turned to her with an exasperated grin. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. Jacob’s laptop exploded, the sprinklers went off, and now we’re—.”

“Slow down,” Jane said, crossing her arms. “Tell me what happened here. Slowly.”

As they filled her in, I refocused on the leg. Gripping it with both hands, I pulled hard. It resisted at first, but with a final burst of effort, it snapped free, sending me sprawling backward. My head smacked against the counter with a dull thud.

“Damn it,” I muttered, rubbing the sore spot.

Leo moved forward as something small clinked against the floor. “A key,” he said, picking up and holding it up to the light. “Hidden inside a damn table leg. Creative, eh.”

Jane leaned closer, her eyebrows furrowed. “What does it open? Did you see any chests or locked boxes?”

“Chests? Seriously?” Leo scoffed. “It’s 2097, Jane. Nobody uses chests anymore.”

“Hey, it’s a fair question,” she shot back. “The key looks old-fashioned.”

I sniffed my hands, grimacing at the lingering scent. “The leg was glued shut. Really strong glue.”

“Don’t go getting high on it,” Leo joked. “I’ll send the key for analysis. Let’s see if it leads anywhere.”

Jane nodded, glancing around. “If that’s all, I think we’re done here. Golden Cats?”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo said, slipping the key into a bag.

“Finally,” James muttered. “This place smells like moldy glue and regret.”

—