I was pacing back and forth in my office, shirtless, staring at the whiteboard covered in photos of Northern Bound's underworld. Faces of known criminals, small-time thugs, and the bigger fish, mob bosses that had been running things for years.

Each picture was connected by a web of red strings, leading to a single question mark in the center.

Whoever was behind the recent murders was someone I didn't recognize, someone new. And that made them dangerous.

My black trench coat and fedora were tossed carelessly on the desk, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork that had somehow found its way all over the room.

Yeah, the place was a disaster, but this mess was my comfort zone. It might look like chaos to anyone else, but I knew exactly where everything was.

Well, most of the time.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I said, not bothering to turn around. I already knew it was Lara. She didn't wait for permission to enter most days.

Sure enough, the door creaked open, and Lara stepped inside, holding a stack of files and a cup of coffee. "You look like you've been at this all night," She remarked, setting the files down on the only clear spot on my desk.

"I have," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Trying to figure out who the hell we're dealing with here."

Lara leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. "And?"

"And nothing. Whoever they are, they're too clean. We've got no names, no faces, just bodies piling up. I've been going through every known criminal in this city, and none of them fit the profile."

She looked at the whiteboard, her brow furrowed. "You think this is a new player? Someone trying to make a move on Northern Bound?"

I collapsed onto the old leather couch shoved into the corner of my office, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh. "No, and I'm tired, Lara. Let's take a little break."

Lara hesitated, watching me for a second, before nodding and pulling up a chair near the desk. "Yeah, I guess even you need to rest sometime," She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the distant hum of the station outside my door. I stared up at the ceiling, my mind still running a mile a minute, even though my body had given up for now.

This case was eating at me. Every lead, every dead end, it all led back to the same place, the unknown.

Lara broke the silence. "You ever think about just... getting away from all this?" She asked softly, leaning back in her chair. "I mean, I know it's not your style, but don't you ever feel like it's all too much?"

I chuckled darkly, my eyes still on the ceiling. "Getting away from what, exactly? This is all I've got, Lara. This mess, this city... It's who I am."

She didn't respond right away, and I wondered if maybe I'd said too much.

But she knew me well enough by now. This job, this chaos, it was my lifeline. I didn't know how to be anything else.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," She said finally, standing up and stretching. "Still, doesn't hurt to think about it. Maybe one day you'll surprise yourself."

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I sat up, resting my elbows on my knees. "Maybe."

Lara wandered over to the whiteboard, her eyes scanning the photos again. "You know, sometimes when I look at this board, I feel like we're chasing ghosts," She muttered. "Like we're always one step behind, just grasping at shadows."

"That's the game," I replied, rubbing my temples. "We don't get to be ahead, we just get to pick up the pieces after the fact and try to make sense of it."

She shook her head. "You make it sound so simple. But there's something more going on here, isn't there?"

I met her gaze, knowing exactly what she meant. "Yeah, there is. And that's what's keeping me awake at night."

She's silence for a moment before pulling a box of cigarette. "You want one?"

I stared at the box of cigarettes for a second, considering it. I hadn't smoked in years, but right now, the idea didn't seem so bad. Anything to take the edge off, even if just for a moment.

"Sure, why not," I said, reaching out to take one from the pack.

Lara lit hers first, then handed me the lighter. The small flame flickered in the dim light of my office as I brought it to the tip of the cigarette.

I took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling.

The familiar burn felt like an old friend I hadn't seen in a while.

We sat in silence for a minute, the smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling, neither of us in a hurry to break the quiet. It was rare, these moments where we could just stop and breathe.

But they never lasted long.

"I keep thinking about those bodies," Lara said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The way they were left... It wasn't just murder. It was a message."

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. The brutality of the killings wasn't random, it was precise, almost surgical. Whoever this was, they were making a statement, and we were still struggling to decipher it.

"They want us to know they're here," I muttered, taking another drag. "They're not hiding. This is their calling card, and we're supposed to be impressed."

"Are you?" Lara asked, her eyes on me.

I snorted. "Impressed? No. But I am concerned. Whoever this is, they're playing a different game. One we're not used to. And that's dangerous."

Lara leaned back, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "So what do we do next? Keep running in circles until they slip up?"

"No," I said, standing up and crushing the cigarette in the ashtray. "We dig deeper. There's always something. A connection, a slip-up, a trace. We just haven't found it yet."

I walked back to the whiteboard, staring at the mess of photos and strings. Somewhere in this tangled web was the key to all of it, and I was determined to find it, no matter how long it took.

Lara watched me, her cigarette burning down to the filter. "You know this case is going to consume you, right?" She said quietly. "It already has."

I didn't respond. She was right, of course. It already had consumed me. But that didn't matter. It was too late to turn back now.

"You know me, Lara. I'm enjoying this case, the harder it is, the more fun it is to crack." I smiled at her.

Lara shook her head with a slight smirk, crushing her cigarette in the ashtray. "I swear, you're a glutton for punishment."

"Maybe," I replied, leaning back against the desk. "But you've got to admit, there's something satisfying about chasing a ghost, knowing that, eventually, they'll make a mistake."

She stood up and stretched, glancing at the clock. "You're running on fumes, you know that? You should catch a few hours of sleep before diving back into this."

I shrugged. "Sleep's overrated."

Lara sighed but didn't argue. She knew better by now. "Fine, just don't forget you've got that meeting with the Captain tomorrow. He's already breathing down our necks about these murders. Last thing we need is for him to start questioning how we're running this case."

I winced. "Don't remind me."

As she headed for the door, she paused, her hand on the knob. "Take care of yourself, alright? You might love the chase, but it doesn't mean you have to let it eat you alive."

I gave her a mock salute. "Sure thing, boss."

She rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips before she disappeared through the door.

Once she was gone, the silence of the office felt heavy again, like the weight of the case had doubled in her absence. I turned back to the whiteboard, my eyes scanning the photos, the faces of the criminals that ruled Northern Bound's streets.

Lara was right. This case was consuming me.

But I wasn't ready to let go.

Not yet.

I reached for my trench coat, slipping it on as I grabbed my fedora from the desk. If I couldn't sleep, I might as well do something productive. There was always someone awake in this city, and if there was a loose thread in this tangled mess, I'd find it.

Because that's what I did. I hunted ghosts. And sooner or later, they all left footprints.