“If only it were that easy. All it takes is one thread, and you spin me around so much there's no way it can't get knotted up.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't be so easy to manipulate.”

“You're the only one who thinks I am.”

“See, now don't you feel better already. You start talking to me, and in two minutes you look like a different person. That job of yours is going to kill you if you don't start looking out for yourself.”

“You know I have to do it.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to do it in the most self-destructive way possible. I'm pretty sure you'll still be able to solve cases if you remember to come home for dinner, and you get a good night's sleep. Who knows, maybe having a life will even help you understand people's motivations a little better.”

“We've tried that before. I promise to spend more time here with you, we make plans to go out and do things, and then we fall right back into the same old patterns. We are who we are, and it's too late for us to go changing that. There comes a point where certain things are etched in stone.”

“Yeah, a tombstone.”

“I'm trying to be serious here.”

“So am I. I watch you stumble in here every night, drink yourself stupid, and then go back out in the morning like all of this is normal. You never look at yourself, so you can't see that you're starting to fall apart. The way you're going can't be sustained. It's like you're withering on the vine, and you refuse to admit it. You can only go so far down that path before there's no turning back, and for better or worse, I love you too much to let you run yourself into the ground. You need a break.”

“I just got one in the case.”

The look on Kat's face was not one of amusement, the reaction Knox was hoping for. Comedy was not a skill he was well versed in, his attempts usually simple wordplay meant to evoke a knowing chuckle more than a true laugh. His pitiful skills were cute, like a dog trying to climb a tree.

“Stop being smart.”

“I thought I was being charming. Wasn't I?”

“You don't know the meaning of the word.”

“Probably not. You didn't marry a knight in shining armor.”

“Don't I know it.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh come on, all you need to do is polish your armor, and it'll be as shiny as anyone's.”

“You're still trying to distract me, aren't you?”

“Yes, and it's working. Just look at yourself, you're almost smiling, and you've let that scotch sit there long enough that someone could have dusted it for prints.”

“So you're saying that you could be my scotch instead?”

“I'm saying that you don't need to lock yourself away from me just because you're in the middle of a case. I know you think focus is the only thing that matters, but you stare at a problem so long you go cross-eyed, and then you're looking at it all backwards. Getting away from it is the best thing you can do, and I might be selfish in saying it, but yes, I think I would be a good diversion. Hell, I've stopped you from thinking about crime for a few minutes now, and I didn't even have to put on makeup.”

“I'm not touching that one.”

“Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“I think so. Look, I'm grateful that you still care enough about me to bother trying to protect me from myself. I don't know what I did to deserve it, since I know I haven't been as good to you as I should have, but I appreciate it.”

“So you're going to stop being a crank and obsessing?”

“I can't change overnight.”

Kat smiled, knowing that a promise was only as good as the intention behind it. She wasn't convinced he would ever be able to change, but she believed in his attempts to try, for her.

“But you'll try.”

“Yes, I will try. Right after this case is over with.”

“But . . .”

“You already got me to agree, so take the win. This is one I'm going to do my way, because there might not be another one if I don't close the book on it.”

“Don't get my hopes up.”

“I promise. I won't kill myself running this one down.”

“You'd better not, or I'll kill you.”

“There's my girl.”

Bumbling Police Are Threat To Citizens:

By William McNeal

With each passing day, it becomes more and more clear that the people of this city are not safe. Crime exists in every city and town, no matter the size. There is no escaping the evil that lurks in the shadows, but what separates this city from all others is the inability to shine a light into those dark corners and assuage the fears of the people.

In any normal city, with a police force that can do the job they have been tasked with, the murder of a prominent man in his own home would entail a massive investigation, and would end in the arrest of his killer, in short order. But we do not live in a normal city, so that is not what we have been watching. Instead, we continue to watch a police force that has no idea how to do the most basic functions of their jobs, and cannot communicate to us, the people they protect, what they are doing to keep us safe.

One of the main responsibilities they hold is making sure that we know everything is being done to maintain our safety, and bring killers to justice. But there has been no noise coming from headquarters, not a single word that can comfort us in knowing that an arrest is imminent. Instead, the brass in the department refuses to comment on what they call an 'ongoing investigation', despite the fact that fear has now become this city's most traded commodity. It is a shocking lack of transparency, and basic human decency, to allow the public to twist in the wind like this.

It all leads to a single question: Are we safe?

With a police force that is incapable of doing their job, and murderous psychopaths on the streets killing in the name of the greater good, it is not difficult to believe that we have been left to fend for ourselves. The official word is that detectives are working on several promising leads, but my sources tell me there is a feeling in the department that the killer will never be found. If that is the case, someone in the administration owes it to the people to come forward and announce that they cannot protect the people of this city.

Maybe then we can scrap the department and start from scratch, which might be the only solution.

Chapter 17

Ghosted Echo

Sunlight heralded the arrival of the new day, casting a hue of gold over the city. For a few brief moments, those precious seconds between opening your eyes and remembering where you are, the world was beautiful. Windows glistened with the rain of the night, shining like diamonds studded in their settings of concrete. The city was not a jewel, nor would it ever be confused with one, but for a few moments, on lucky days, there was reason to remember what hope felt like.

Detective Knox opened his eyes to the beam that shone through his window, unmoved by the wonder of nature. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath, wondering if the sun was a torture device planted by God to slowly torment him into madness. While the rest of the city was reveling in a few moments of warmth and optimism, he was rubbing his eyes to remove the ghosted echo of the sun, already sure the day was on a path to ruin. Optimism was a disease, Knox thought, one that he had been fortunate never to contract. In those rare moments when he understood why people could embrace optimism, he wondered how people could live with such a burden.

As a pessimist, Detective Knox was only surprised when the strangers known as success and happiness paid unexpected visits, arriving under a cloak of mystery. Not expecting them made those moments of genuine happiness that much stronger, steeping the feelings in the boiling tumult that was his soul. Little victories that passed unnoticed for most people, were, for him, minor miracles. Optimists might be happier more often, but their feelings were shallow in comparison to his. Only men who embraced the dark side of life, like Detective Knox, could truly appreciate when the skies parted.