Jack glanced around the library, making sure he wouldn't be bothered in his corner tucked away in the stacks. He readjusted the angle of his laptop and clicked on the waiting connect button in the center of his screen. After a short pause, a window popped up, showing another desktop. He maximized the window and leaned forward, resting on his elbows.

He watched as the cursor clicked through various police reports and photos. A couple mugshots and their accompanying reports quickly went by. He stiffened as a photo of his favorite bar popped up, followed by photos of the owner lying on the floor in a pool of blood. There were cuts running along every inch of exposed skin.

He quickly read over the coroner's report and description of the crime scene when they popped up. Apparently, Jay Cook had died from blood loss, but most of the cuts and stabs had been made after he had died. Jack rubbed at his wrists as he read over the rest of the report, detailing the knives used. All of which were from Cook's personal collection.

He licked his lips and reached for his phone. He tapped an icon of a pig and waited. The cursor paused in its exploration, leaving Jack's screen full of deep, ragged cuts. He managed to pull his eyes away to stare at his keyboard.

"Fairchild."

"I… Sam, can you go to a different picture?" Jack whispered.

"Who… Jack?! How many times do I have to—"

"Please? Just change it." He sighed in relief as his screen switched to a photo of a kitten in a bow. "Thanks."

"Why are you spying on me, Jack?" Sam asked.

"I'm bored," Jack said. "But that's not why I called. I uh… I think I was at The Charred Flamingo around the time Cook died."

"You— Did you see anything? Hear anything?"

"I-I… I remember going and… I left through the back door. I think. If you found vomit, it's probably mine, 'cuz there was some on my shirt in the morning and none on my floor."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Jack…"

"It was a bad night," he said quietly. "Just tell me the police report's right, and it's gang related."

Sam was silent for a moment. "Officially, yes. But unofficially, everything's too convenient. Too clean for this to be one of their fights. Hell, we have a witness, but it's…" He broke off with a heavy sigh. "We know some sort of message is being sent. Just don't know who it's addressed to. However, I can say it's not connected to Farragut."

Jack nodded as he swallowed. "Okay."

"Jack. Promise me you'll stay home tonight. No bars. If you insist on self-medicating, then do it at home."

"Yeah. I can do that."

"The guest room is always available."

"No. I'm good," Jack said as he tugged his shirtsleeve up and down his wrist.

"Do yourself a favor, and stop hacking my computer. It's not helping you."

"But if I do that, then you won't have an excuse to arrest me later," Jack said, a desperate tremor leaking into his voice. "I don't do anything. I just watch."

"Jack, just tell me that you won't do it again."

"I won't do it again."

"Good. Now get some rest," Sam said, his voice quiet and reassuring. "You sound exhausted."

"Sure."

"I have to go over this report, so find something else to entertain yourself with, okay?"

"Okay."

"Thank you. Oh, and Candy wants you to stop making her draw Swords and Towers. Although, she's got a good feeling about the King of Pentacles, or something," Sam said.

Jack's screen changed back to the police report, and he was thankful that it was just a witness testimony. He disconnected from Sam's computer. "Tell her to just remove them from the deck and stop spying on me."

"Who's spying?"

Jack huffed a small laugh. "Point taken. I'll go do something else." He pulled up a puzzle adventure game as they said their goodbyes. Maybe he could get himself to relax with some friendly pixels solving puzzles.

A few hours in, he was regretting that he chose a darker genre to play.

image [https://i.imgur.com/eZY0YUq.png]