It had been two weeks since Jack’s episode with Harry and the still unknown snipers. He’d run down every lead, ran ballistics and even tried to pull prints off of the jackets they found across the street. Nothing. After a few hours with the department shrink, Jack resumed his daily routine – though he did modify it. There was a small amateur boxing ring a couple of blocs from where he lived. He didn’t wanna get caught off guard again, so he started working the heavy and speed bags between murders and shootings.
As the time passed, the mysterious entity known as Halifax was never far from Jack’s mind. When he stopped to eat, he always read the day’s paper. When he read that paper, he wold comb through every article looking for some clue about Halifax. During that fateful interview with Harry, the poor bastard had said something that struck a cord:
“What…do you….hope to…do?”
At the time, Jack only knew that he wanted the killings to stop. Since then, there have been three times as many murders as there were this time last year. Jack knew part of it was because of the news – people hear about an anonymous shooter that wasn’t caught, and they think they can go around shooting folks and it’ll just get blamed on the guy that escaped -, but at some point, he knew there would be more deaths. Something like this…. it doesn’t just ‘stop’ all on it’s own. Someone had to make it stop.
So far, all of the would be mystery killers had been caught. They were either husbands who caught their wives cheating, just wanted out of a bad job / house / marriage / car loan; just your typical clowns thinking they could get away with murder. None of them were professionals.
Jack was snapped back to reality when he heard his police band radio go off. Standing up, Jack thanked the waitress, left a nice tip at the counter and left the outdoor sidewalk cafe, keeping his paper in hand. While he got situated, Jack listened as dispatch repeated the radio call. His car wasn’t anything fancy, just your standard issue nineteen thirty-nine four door. The only real difference was he had one of those mini lights instead of a whole bar of ‘em, and his car was painted jet black. Not exactly inconspicuous, especially when you add the two hundred plus pound white male wearing the stereotypical detective’s trench coat, but it got the job done.
“Calling One-Baker-Three-Five; please report to 1337 Hax Drive.”
“One-Baker-Three-Five – acknowledged and en route,” Jack replied as he hit the gas pedal and sped off toward what was likely the latest murder scene.
The location of the scene, like most downtown areas, seemed structured for the crime that occurred within them. In this area, the many empty parking garages and nearly empty high rise apartment buildings made prostitution, drug use and murder into crimes of convenience. When Jack arrived, several techs were already on scene processing the evidence. This particular crime occurred in one of the garages on the fifth floor.
“Hey Jack! Have a look at this.”
“Hey Sam….. wha’cha have?”
In all honesty, Jack was quite surprised Sam was there since h’d been assigned to vice. Maybe there were drugs involved.
“You see this wound? Right in the temple.”
Jack looked down at the body. Aside from the wound, she looked like she should just get up and walk away – her dress wasn’t messed up, and there weren’t even any runs in her stockings. As he knelt down for a closer look, something seemed…. off.
“You see the direction of the blood Sam? It goes from her temple to her chin. If she fell over right after being shot, the blood would be going down the side,” Jack explained, tracng invisible lines around the girls head while her eyes still stared at the ceiling.
“Damn, you are good,” Sam admitted, waving his hand at one of the techs.
“Well, it looks like you’re already working on the murder. I’m gonna check the place for narco. Just before the shooting I was tracing a lead in the area.”
Jack nodded in an almost dismissive fashion; his mind already working the murder. After a few minutes, Jack realized that the area had fallen completely silent. When he finally looked up, Sam was looking straight at him; his face stricken with sorrow.
“Sam…” Jack cautioned as he stood up. While Sam look as though he meant to intimidate the veteran detective, he still hadn’t drawn his weapon. He must have thought his stature and overtly apparent top physical condition would do the trick for him.
“This is too big, Jack. Even for you. Halifax is everywhere, and they’ll stop at nothing.”
Jack snickered. “That’s funny. I’ve been looking for them for weeks, and still haven’t found ‘em.”
“Then why are you in the exact same situation you were in just a few weeks ago? Coincidence?”