The Havenport Files: Book One

Day 2

On the whole drive to the Two Horned Betsy, I'm accompanied by the music on the radio; impressively, today most of them were good ones, being mostly composed of calm and pop songs instead of those bad country music that play out more times on the radio than necessary, and in the process, sinking the poorly written lyrics in my head about bad romances and farms.

Once I make sure the car is parked in the right spot, I turn off the engine and turn my eyes to the building I know so much; I see the same dark-colored walls that give out the therapeutic smell of good mixed drinks and drowned sorrows.

The main star, of course, stands where she always does, untouched by time, rain, or anything that can pose a threat to it: The Great Betsy. In the process of looking, I climb out of my car and gaze at the SUV parking behind me; both agents take their time readying themselves for one more step of the investigation as I move towards an interesting scene, kind of expected from what I was able to learn until now about Agent Yui; them, holding their helmet under one arm, stare with their mouth hanging open in awe to Betsy, admiring every piece of, probably illegal, modifications and decorative bits, like the real goat horns adorning its body, which would be enough for the station to arrest Brutus for, but we don't, because of two things: First, he doesn't ride anymore, so it's fine, I guess; and second, never mess with the man who pours the drinks, never.

"Modified engine, different brand parts, custom headlights, a plate flipper; this is a piece of work from the gods." Agent Yui mumbles to themselves a little too loud as they have a hard time not drooling all over it; their hands, almost hypnotized, hover above Betsy, never really touching her, like worshipping a goddess. "Okay, I have to admit to myself; I'm almost jealous of this baby."

"I wouldn't recommend touching her; Brutus can be a very jealous and protective lover," I warn the agent as I stop to stand beside them, looking at Betsy and appreciating her design as well; even if not fully understanding the modifications, as I'm not a huge fan of bikes, the badass look it has is universal. "The last person who touched her mysteriously broke all the fingers of their right hand on the same night."

"Oh, it should have been so worth it; I would love to get my fingers broken if just to have a chance to feel her engine against the tip of my fingers." They stay a moment too quiet, almost making me strange the way they get so fixated on Betsy before they turn to me with a grin, showing that they are just exaggerating. "Unfortunately, I need all my fingers for the work; the curses of being employed." A pout takes over their lips, managing to drag a single laugh out of me because of how they are acting.

I turn my head to search for the other two agents, seeing them waving us closer to the bar's entrance, and when I look back at Agent Yui, they stop laughing out of nowhere and steel-focus their gaze on the distance.

"Uh, something happened? You went quiet all of a sudden," I ask, trying to understand what it is they are looking at, seeing that something on the wooden street pole beside the bar is where their focus stays.

"You see that old-ass camera right there, near the cables?" As they point it out, I finally see it—a very square and old-looking security camera that I never noticed before on the countless times I came here, probably because all the times I did it was late at night after writing reports all day. "You think that thing still works somehow?"

"I don't know, the camera isn't owned by the city; I'm sure of that because if it was, that would have been something of great help many times before; my best guess is that it might actually be something Brutus himself installed to keep record if anyone tried to steal anything from the bar. You can check it if you want; I'm sure he wouldn't mind if it is for the investigation; I just don't know how you would be able to access it."

"Actually, that's the easy part; there's a metal box right on there, at the bottom." They point out, and sure enough, there is a metal box securing what probably is the storage part of the surveillance system; it is too distant to tell, but it doesn't seem locked at least. "I'll check it out and see if I can get anything, but that might take a while considering it might be running on a full hard drive."

"You want me to grab the others and go with you? We could keep you company while you try accessing it; we have time still before we—well, I have to get back to the station and write the report for the day." My comments come with a bad taste in my mouth, coating my tongue with the taste of a mountain of paper and the guarantee of bad wrist pain.

"Ow, that's very nice of you to think; but no need, cutie, I'll be fine out here. Now go with them before Lia gets the idea I stole you all for myself." They say, winking at me with a playful grin, before pulling a phone cable from the pocket of their flannel shirt and starting their stride towards the metal box.

There's a moment where all I can do is blink as the words down on me, not even managing to get a proper human reaction from me, something that just highlights how not used to these interactions I am; sure, I flirted before, but I never had people wanting to flirt back to me. That is exactly why I have no relationships; I just can't handle all the dates, outings, and attention it requires while balancing a professional life in such a complicated work area.

Pushing the thought aside, I think about the recordings; the idea of getting them from the camera to see if it has anything that can help us with the case is a very smart one; it can get us a time when the victim met the killer, a vehicle that they could have used to move to another location, and a face for the faceless photo on the man's half-done profile in my desk.

Knowing that I can only do my part now, I adjust the sleeve of the hoodie to half my forearm, slide down the zipper so it is open to my chest, and finally, I find a scrunchie on my jeans pocket and tie my hair down into a messy curl of a ponytail; with that done, I press the sole of my boot against the concrete floor and walk to my objective.

Nearing the door of the bar, that same smell from before still catches me, but now more mixed with the scent of stale Whisky and recently burned cigarettes. When I look at both agents, Dalia seems to wait for me to welcome them inside as Colette is forced into patience by the woman's right hand tightly pressed against her shoulder.

"Well, let's do this; just a warning before anything. Brutus can seem like a very complicated person at first, but if you get past his frown, you'll see he is a softie just like a cartoon princess; kind of like when you name your dog Destroyer and it is one of the most docile Pitbull that ever crossed earth."

"We will keep this in mind; thank you for warning us of that beforehand." Lips contorted into a soft smile, hands losing their grip on the shoulder of the other agent, which is enough of an opening for her to free herself and quickly step back to avoid the same fate twice; for that, Agent Dalia shows no reaction and instead seems to choose to focus on me and the lack of a certain someone on my side. "Wasn't Yui with you just a moment ago? Where did they go?"

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot; they had a good idea of checking to see if the camera on the bar's alley is still working so we can maybe get something out of the recordings; for now they asked us to check the bar because it might take a while to do so."

"That is, in actuality, a very good idea; all we can hope for then is a result where they manage to obtain us a good part of the puzzle parts so we can start to assemble a picture later." Her comments come with a gesture for me towards the door, and with a good grip on the handle, I push open the creaked, wooden door, earning a cry from its dry hinges as it opens.

Once stepping inside, the low, yellowed lights of the bar create an atmosphere of its own that makes anyone feel at home; it births an ecosystem separated from the cloudy, gray world outside; the wintry air that accompanies us as we make ourselves welcome inside the bar quickly dissipates into the nice, cozy warmth of the place.

To our right, near the wall, lies the famous ATM machine, the one that makes sure that even if your money goes down the drain, you can get more; it saved many people's faces from a beating because they didn't accompany how much money they were spending in the night, but that becomes part of the background as we take the way to the left, avoiding getting into the tight corridor of the booth area and instead following towards the three-step staircase that allows us the view of the bar counter and more.

On the far left, straight from the old jukebox, the soft tune of a piano plays, involving the ambiance in its carefully written notes, which, at this point, has been played so many times that it became sort of the theme song for the bar—at least in my head.

Behind the counter, wearing a bored expression as she polishes the glass cups for the opening hours, stands Lindsay, more known as Brutus's daughter; she wears the same outfit I generally see her in, being a white shirt, gray vast, black trousers—all that composes her bartender uniform. Even if this bar is a far cry from anything truly professional, she manages to make it feel less wild.

She notices us as we start approaching her; specifically, her eyes fall on my face, shining with recognition instantly; her hands come to stop on her neck-length black hair as she adjusts a loose strand of it behind her ear, tucking it away from her face as she prepares herself with a less strained smile; but before we can reach her, a tall, monolith of a figure interjects in our path midway.

Agent Colette is the first to react, moving herself a step forward as she squints her eyes at the figure, keeping herself in between the figure and Agent Dalia; both of them start a staring contest that quickly gives the vibe that won't stop until someone says something, and that is when Agent Dalia steps to the side of the woman to manage the situation herself.

"Hello sir, would you perhaps be Mister Brutus, the establishment's owner?" She asks, adopting a posture that reflects the complete opposite of Agent Colette, who keeps staring at Brutus with a feral growl forming in the midst of her throat.

Brutus nods his head, bending closer to look at them both more closely; his long, unkept, gray hair, tied up with a red bandana atop his head, sways around as he does so. "Yes, I am. I'm sure you two aren't from around here; city folks, right? So what is it that you want?" He asks with a deep, raspier tone, one that manages to put anyone on their toes.

"Dad, stop for a moment and please put your glasses on; you're embarrassing us both this way," Lindsay screams from the bar as she slaps her hands against the counter loudly, grabbing the man's attention and compelling him to do so; her crossed arms soon give up as she wipes the embarrassment off her face.

The small, librarian-like glasses he puts on are enough to make his sleeveless biker jacket, various tattoos along his left arm, and the whole intimidating expression become less unnerving to both agents; I only keep quiet as I learned that it is best for people to see by themselves what I meant by him being a softie inside instead of having to explain every time. His expression subsides as he no longer needs to force his eyes to make the faces of both agents, now being more friendly-looking, but more yet is when he turns his head to see the third group member and finds me with a smile on my face.

"Olivia!" The middle-aged man walks towards me, completely forgetting the existence of both agents for the moment before doing the expected, embracing me strongly enough to make my spine no longer need a chiropractor and lifting me easily off the floor. "How have you been? You haven't been down here in a week; also, I heard you got Reele's position as a detective; I feared I wouldn't be able to congratulate you."

"Yeah, I had a long week; lots of papers to sign, many things from Reele's office to pack, and processing all the changes, but I'm here now; unfortunately, it isn't off duty." Hearing my words, Brutus finishes hugging me and carefully places me back on my feet, heaving his big hand on my shoulder as he gets serious.

"I imagine things must be tough for you, in truth, I was already expecting the moment you would walk through that door; that poor tourist girl, it is a real shame what happened to her." For a moment his hand leaves my shoulder, which my muscles thank God for because the strength of this guy is something else; his focus becomes locked somewhere else. "Pumpkin, can you go unpack the boxes in the kitchen for me? I'll need the counter to talk with them." It is unlike him to get this serious; generally, he floats between a big teddy bear and a very intimidating biker; his words reach Lindsay, who sighs and nods her head.

"Sure, I'll take care of the boxes, but that will cost you ten bucks that don't think we won't discuss later." Without any more to add, the girl waves me goodbye and makes her exit towards the door behind the counter to give us the space, disappearing as it closes up.

"Come on; you can ask your questions while you introduce me to your friends,"

He gestures towards the bar before starting to walk to get behind it, and once he does, with some difficulty getting his not-exactly-fit body past the small waist-height, swinging door, he takes his place of right, having lights shining from behind him like a holy figure, coming from the drinks showcase that displays some very expensive stuff that he got somehow but never told me about in the million times I asked; the familiar TV hanging from the ceiling that keeps the quiet ambiance filled with life as it plays a lighthearted cartoon from the nineties is soon muted as Brutus reach for the controller hidden behind the counter, giving us the space to talk without any interruptions; something very nice of him to do.

"I can prepare some drinks if any of you want, but if not, I have some juice as well. Of course, it will all be in the house; Olivia's friends are always welcome here."

"Hey, when did I get so much of your respect? To what I remember, I didn't do anything to deserve those words." I ask, confusion painting my face as the reason for such words miss me completely; and even when I try to pull something from my memory, it still fails.

"Don't be so humble, Olivia; but if I must remind you, you're the reason why Lindsay didn't get herself into a dumb accident or stay in jail when she decided that drinking before closing time and driving her friend home was a good idea."

His words remind me promptly of the story; Lindsay had just turned twenty; that was last year, and she decided to take a day off bartending and left Brutus to do so while she enjoyed a couple of drinks with a friend; later that night, she was driving her friend home, both completely wasted, and I was on patrol. By luck, I saw on her face what was happening while she passed the red light and stopped them immediately. I had to get both to the station but managed to get Ed to not keep them there for long. So I called Brutus, and he picked her up, as I did the job of getting her friend back to their house; that's the story.

"And there's another reason; if it wasn't for you, my best income source would have never come through those doors; your sister really should not come here as often as she does."

"I can kind of relate to her; the job sometimes can be stressful, and a good drink or two helps ease it down a bit, but if we talk about her, we might spend the rest of the day doing it, so to get back to the issue in hand, these two are Agent Dalia and Agent Colette; they work for a federal agency that got word of the girl's murder and decided to lend us a hand to proceed with the investigation. I think that is a good rundown of things, right?"

I turn to Dalia, asking my question to open the possibility for her to add anything I may have missed; when my eyes fall on her, I can see she decided to stay on her feet instead of sitting on one of the stools; she, in response, nods her head and smiles, apparently satisfied with my sum up.

"Every time the city tried to put a hand on our issues, things didn't end up better than they were before; you can say it is a curse of ours, but this is just how things are." Placing three glass cups atop the counter, Brutus interrupts Dalia both with his voice and the sound of the items as she is about to open her mouth to talk, making sure to let his opinion be known before we proceed; he looks down at the cups soon after and sighs, pushing away the negative thoughts permeating his head. "I'm sorry for the harsh words; I just hope that truly, the intentions you carry are well intended; this place and its folks already saw too much of their shares of problems."

There's a good moment of silence where no one dares to talk, so instead everyone breathes out quietly as, I assume, the words catch the agents off guard; hell, even I get caught off guard by his sudden pessimism; but even so, Dalia's smile doesn't falter and instead seems to grow softer after.

"Yes, that was a good summary, detective; I know that our sudden offer might raise a question regarding our motives, but I can assure you, Mister Brutus, that we only intend to help this city, just like Detective Rivers." Out of nowhere, the chain of interruptions to Dalia's words replay as a muffled vibration starts to ring from her trousers; she raises her finger to ask for a moment and pulls out her phone; she looks at the bright, flashing screen before sighing. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me; I can't leave this call for later, unfortunately. Do attempt to keep your temper in line."

The last part of her words is a whisper towards Colette, who sits quietly on one stool of distance from me, her eyes serious and seemingly unfocused, but she responds in the end with a lazy thumbs up, which gives Dalia the opening she needs to rush outside to take the call before she can't anymore.

With the agent gone, I take it upon myself to formulate the questions and place myself forward on the stool, resting my hands on the counter as I fidget with my fingernails.

"Brutus, the girl, by any chance, did you see her around here the day before yesterday? If not, maybe you saw a man come for a few drinks; uhm, he was like..." I stop for a moment, seeking inside my brain the image I saw of the victim's father in Astero's computer when he accessed the webpage of Biotech.

"Squared face, well-maintained mustache, dark hair and eyes, a fair complexion, strongly built; and he probably came around in his business suit, so he sure was easy to spot between the regulars." One thing that I didn't expect to happen. Colette, who stayed quiet this whole time, describes the man perfectly, striking my memory at the exact time I get near remembering myself; her hand comes to a stop atop one of the glass cups Brutus placed on the counter, and her fingertip taps against its body as if asking for the offered drink. "I'll have whiskey on the rocks."

The good, well-detailed description is enough to do the same thing it did to my memory, but to Brutus, as, clear as day, he rocks his body back and forth in a constant motion while working up his brain.

"About the girl coming here, I can't be so sure; it's not every hour I'm at the bar making drinks; I can ask Lindsay if she saw the girl, as she probably came here when I was in the kitchen working on the orders; but the man you described, he actually came here yesterday an hour before seven for a couple of drinks. We didn't engage in any conversation; he didn't look like he wanted company or be disturbed by the way he stayed on his stool like a scared dog, looking pretty roughened up; after he swallowed his drinks, he paid all in live cash, and then he left without saying anything to anyone."

Huh? Strange, if he was beaten up, he might have known what happened to his daughter, but why he got to the mill is another question itself; I just know that he did die not much after I got to the mill. Maybe the sedan that Alexandrina's source saw belonged to the father; maybe he got there to go after the killer; it still will take some time to put it all together, so for now I'll leave the thoughts for the evidence board and focus on another issue at hand, one that doesn't regard so much the case.

"Okay, that helps a bit; can you ask Lindsay about the girl for me, then? I want to make sure we don't miss anything before I wrap things up for today."

Brutus, already expecting me to ask this of him, gives me a thumbs up as he throws some ice cubes into Colette's cup and pours the old-looking and smelling whiskey for her, who once the opportunity presents itself, starts to wrap her thirsty, lean fingers around the cup as if strangling it. "Sure, I'll be back in a minute, and you, agent, please enjoy the drink, and if you need a refill, I'll get you one once I get back."

All sounds around me at the bar seem to die; as the only one that remains, the deafening sound of the agent beside me sipping her drink quietly echoes nauseatingly, enough to make my brain tick in anxiety.

There isn't really anything that I can think about to try to initiate a talk; I'm sure talking about the case would end up in more awkward silence, but there's at least one thing that I can do, one that is enough to leave me with the relief of having tried to improve my situation with her.

I sense the woman eyeing me for a single instance as I let out a click of my tongue, gathering some courage and energy to try braving her defenses; her eyes almost manage to make me stop—almost.

"Look, I don't really know what your deal is, but I would like to, really; you surely have your own good reasons to hate my existence, and that is fine; I'm not here to ask for you to be my friend, but it would be best if at least we could talk to each other without this 'air' in between. You surely have your own reasoning for being in this line of work, and probably you have someone you do this for, like family, a friend, or a lover, because I do as well. My sister; she doesn't deserve to see the horrible side of the world that I'm seeing now, and I..." As I mention my sister, I look at the woman's hand on the cup, seeing it tightening more than before, almost threatening to break the glass on the spot; her face holds a deep, ugly frown, one that I can't really read further than what is obvious, so, not wanting to push her further, I sigh and stop myself from talking more. "You know what? Forget that I said anything; I don't know you, and you don't know me; we just need to complete this job. I'm sorry for disturbing you; I'll leave you to your drinking."

With the remnants of my strength of will, I push myself off the stool and back to my feet; my hands fall to my pocket, where I use my cold fingers to secure my phone so I can start to pull it out; but before I can move away from the counter and lock my focus on the bright screen, the woman who stayed silent all this time gives out one last growl before extending her arm to tap the stool beside her.

"Sit down," she orders, finally after all this time looking at me for a reason different than trying to intimidate me away; seeing no reason not to do as ordered, I comply, sitting down beside her; once she sees I'm doing as asked, she loses no time in returning her focus to finishing the drink resting in her hand in one last gulp. "You are not as incompetent as I expected from a small-town detective; I'll give you that, so for it I'll do as you asked."

Okay, that is a good outcome; it is enough to make me less tense at the very least, so I'll count that as a victory; my arms come to rest once more atop the counter as the silence doesn't stop after we solved that, but instead becomes less discomforting. Not long after, Brutus returns from the kitchen with a face that tells me that what he brings is not good news.

"I'm sorry, but Pumpkin had nothing much to add about the girl; apparently, the story is that she came here at a late time, talked with most of the regulars, finished a couple of drinks, and then left some minutes before closing time; besides that, there was nothing irregular or strange about her." With his arms crossed, a bitter frown forms on his face. "I really wish I could help more, but that is all I have."

"Hey, that's fine; what you had already helps enough." Crafting a smile on my lips, I rise to my feet and watch as the woman beside me does the same; my eyes stop at the time on my cellphone, seeing that it is almost time for Astero to call so he can inform me of his findings regarding the clues on the mill; that is enough to hurry me. "We will go on now, but I promise to come back here some other time, while not on duty; thank Lindsay for me, please."

"I'll tell her that; good luck to you, Olivia. I hope this storm goes away soon so we can go back to the calmness." He smiles calmly, but behind his lips, I can see the crack on the edge of it that makes me see how much all of these things mess with everyone, and not just me; for this small, reclusive city to suffer with these murders... many of the people don't even know how to deal with all of this, so there's a certain fog of fear that strikes everyone; for this reason I hope this can end soon.

With these words encircling the air, Agent Colette and I start to leave the bar together to find the other two agents, who are taking a bit too long to report back.

Meanwhile, outside of the bar.

Agent Dalia walks out of the building after receiving yet another call from Yui, who desperately tries to reach her again and again. Once she closes in on the turn to the alley where they are supposed to be, she can instantly recognize the mumblings of the agent as they walk from side to side with their phone in hand—nervous mumbles.

"Come on, pick up the damn phone already; this can't wait longer. Oh man, if the detective comes out here, what can I say that won't sound suspicious?" Yui mumbles, already dialing once more Dalia's contact in an attempt to get them to this place, but before that can happen, the woman in question steps closer.

The agent's focus on the problem at hand is so much that only when Dalia reaches their side and places her hand on their stiff shoulder do they get back to reality, jumping like a cat at the scare before forcing a quick recompose.

"Are you okay, Yui? What happened? Is it something so bad for you to call me that much? Because if I hadn't had a good excuse ready on the tip of my tongue, I would have risked placing suspicion on my sudden absence."

"Oh, it is good you came fast; we might have a problem, and I need you to tell me what I should do; just look here." The agent talks in a rushed tone, seeking to answer the woman's questions in one go; their hand falls on top of the metal box attached to the pole where the modified cable phone can be seen, connecting the hard drive safely kept inside and the outside device. Hurriedly taking the phone into their hand, Agent Yui hands it to Agent Dalia; the phone shines with life at the touch, showing a pause symbol on the screen that hints at the agent's successful data extraction. "Just watch it first, and then tell me if we should delete it or not."

"I'll watch it; just calm yourself down. The detective is currently occupied asking questions to the bar's owner, so we have some good minutes to think about whatever you found; there is no reason to worry yourself any more than that." Those words have the desirable effect, as hearing them makes the nervous agent take a deep breath and slow down their train of thought; while that happens, Agent Dalia plays the video.

It starts at the very moment a young woman, presumably the victim, stumbles drunkenly out of the bar into the alley, where she doesn't take much before all the alcohol she consumed is vomited near the trash bin at the other end; the quality of the video is less than desirable, so the little details like her facial expression or the ability to distinguish shadows are impossible.

The video continues; after successfully throwing up, victoriously missing her own footwear, it appears that the woman regains partially her grip on the moment as she looks around with a hand traveling towards her boots, but she never manages to reach it, as once she bends down and away from her own contents, a second figure appears on the screen, surprising her with a blow to the head with their hand, their form distorted and blurry but still recognizable as the gangly, newly transformed vampire; the gangly man's figure, even if not being all captured by the camera fully, leaves lots to be unpacked.

One of those things is how he appears out of nowhere in the middle of the alley and then proceeds to disappear with the now unconscious victim in his arms in a single instant; now Yui's nervousness can be made sense to the agent; in any other situation, this could be shrugged away as a camera problem, even if it has very suspicious timing, but not to someone like the detective, who, even if fleeting, had a contact with the supernatural the moment she saw them act on the old mill.

"Okay, your nervousness now is more understandable; but this isn't something to fret over." The agent hands the phone back to Agent Yui before stopping to ponder the idea she has; once satisfied with it, she crosses her arms and gestures with her hand as she talks. "You'll do this; download the file to your phone and send a copy to Julia, then attempt to delete a week's worth of content from the recordings so no looks can be cast upon us; make it look like a technical problem from before we even set foot in this city. In the worst-case scenario, if you can't manage to delete them, corrupt the hard drive, but only as a last resort."

Agent Yui opens their mouth in surprise for a moment before grinning amusedly; their hands, with a supernatural speed, start to work on the order. "I see; when did that side of you bloom? I like this 'bad girl' you a little more than the boring usual; keep it up." The request, which for some would take a little more than five minutes, is finished in two; the old hard drive makes sure to take up a minute and a half to work itself until all traces of the recordings are gone, like smoke on the wind. "Okay, done; no one can trace what I did here to us, as you asked." They disconnect the cable from the hard drive and phone, placing them in the pockets of their flannel shirt before closing the metal box of the pole and putting the lock back in place, the same one they appeared to have picked locked to gain access. "But seriously, about not telling the detective of this; it doesn't feel a little wrong to you? And I know you're going to say it's about 'protecting our identities and the agency's', but... I don't know; it just feels counterintuitive; I mean, she is working with us, right? So maybe we should work with her as well."

"I understand your point, and I do really wish I could share it with you, but the safety of the agency and ours is first priority; trust me when I say humans can react very badly to things they don't understand." Dalia talks with a straight face, thinking deeply about her own words as to reply in the most thoughtful way; suddenly, a smile blooms upon her lips. "Nonetheless, we will keep assisting her throughout this case; the fact we know means we can keep her safe as well."

"Oh, I'm starting to get your logic; well, I guess it's fine then." Letting out a yawn they seemed to have kept hold of since this morning, Yui shoves their small hands on the pockets of their jeans and starts to droll over a thought. "I really just want to leave soon so I can eat; my stomach is craving some blood and sweets, and after that, I want to hibernate a little."

"We will; soon enough you will have the opportunity to do so. We are going back to headquarters soon; just let's get Colette inside so we can see if everything's fine before leaving."

"At this point, I bet that Colie has eaten the detective out of anger; doesn't she notice how she's growling like a dog since she left her bed? It is actually funny to watch."

As the laugh starts to leave Yui's mouth, the detective and Agent Colette leave the building together.

Outside of the bar, leaning against the somewhat sturdy door of my car, I go through with Agent Dalia about all that Agent Colette and I were able to get with Brutus, which wasn't much, but even so, it was something at the end of the day; learning that the man came around to drink and the way he was acting weird, all beaten up and sad before sailing to his death out of nowhere, starts to paint a picture in my head that the more it receives the gentle strokes of evidence, the more it blurs out of view. It all happened a little too fast, with not nearly enough time given to allow anyone a moment to do anything else, or think for that matter; in only some hours we discovered the body and then got here.

Now, I'm back to where I was at the beginning: deeply confused and desiring a good and calm lunch at Blue Wave Diner.

Agent Dalia stops the silence that involves us after I'm done talking to tell me that their boss, the woman I saw on the station, has called them back to make a report and rest for the day, as the well we were drinking from has gone dry; the bar was the last piece we had to assemble before really reaching the inevitableness that is waiting for the lab's result.

She does nothing but wave at me, telling me that if anything happens, I can call Yui before disappearing into her own path; she only forgets to give me the agent's number so I'm able to do it.

It is kind of sad to watch them go to their respective vehicles and drive away; they are not so bad to deal with, even if it appears as such; I worked with worse people on the station before, and remembering about them makes me linger for the next opportunity to meet once more.

At last, I'm given the chance to get my mind through what they said about the cameras, which stuck with me for a good reason.

The city is suffering from a real strike of bad luck; I mean, two murders in two nights, and the only camera that could have any information has its files corrupted a week prior; add that to the shadows on the mill, and I think I can make a good drink, the kind that would make me pass out in a bathroom stall somewhere and vomit all over myself. It is hard to believe this is all but bad luck though; something shadows the back of my mind, a feeling that screams at me: 'We are being played; not all is what it looks like.'; the problem is that the more I learn, the more I start to lean towards agreeing.

The thoughts are enough to put me in my auto-pilot mode, forcing me to dance around this thick mist that forms behind my eyes before allowing me the chance to grapple control back, to return fully to my senses—something that, once done, makes me find myself already inside the car with the engine revving weakly, vibrating against the tip of my fingers as I pull away from the key, pleading for mercy from all it had to go through today: the dirt road to the mill, the streets to the bar, and the way back and forth to the station.

My hands fall atop the wheel as I turn it, aiming the car's front towards the exit of the bar's parking lot; the street stares back at me as I look; I welcome the sight of the movement in it before it starts to flood with cars and people moving around; the city has now fully awakened, and I just wish I could rest.