The End. .?

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"Never speak ill of the dead, and never, ever, claim you've got a suspect until the court case is over and he's behind bars."~ Ridley Pearson


A single light shone brightly, casting shadows around the warehouse.

The empty warehouse.

Jack noticed that first. Everything was gone. All traces of Kingmaker's presence removed.

He felt a tug on his heart at the thought. The thought that she really might be gone this time.

But then he remembered who he was dealing with and brushed the feeling off as heartburn.

The soles of Jack's shoes echoed with each step that he walked across the floor. He drew closer to the inner office where he knew he would find his doctor.

V.C. was seated behind the desk, staring at a laptop screen. The glow of the lamplight softened her features as the tendrils of hair caressed her face in a gentle seduction. The silken strands flowed down, curving down her neck and covering her.

A pencil was lodged between her straight white teeth and she was incessantly chewing on the tip.

With each shift of her wrist, the buttons of her leather jacket tapped across the desk.

She didn't look up as he approached or even acknowledge she knew he was there. Jack cleared his throat but still got no reaction.

He stepped further into the office and came to rest at the edge of the wooden desk.

"David Jameson confessed to both murders. A year ago, he started an affair with Silvia and hatched the plan to murder Emblem. She wanted Mateo's fortune and he wanted to kill Emblem for taking his job. After Emblem's death, Silvia left Jameson and moved to Rinshawn. Like your report said, he felt slighted by her actions and killed Silvia in a passionate rage. "

Jack received nothing in response to his proclamation. Her eyes didn't stop their rapid wandering and the pencil continued to rotate between her teeth.

Jack wondered if she was still upset about their previous argument. He hadn't apologized yet. In fact, he was partially hoping that she would forget and forgive him.

Not that he had anything to be forgiven for. He shouldn't have to apologize for his own feelings. He couldn't force himself to trust her and it would help no one if he faked that trust.

He flickered his eyes towards the gift bag that resided on her desk.

Exactly where he had left it.

He thought there was the chance that she hadn't noticed it but quickly dashed that idea. There was barely anything she didn't notice. . .

Jack thrust a hand into his hair, ruffled it slightly and decided that he would bite the bullet. Metaphorically, of course. A .223 Remington semi-jacketed hollow point bullet would just ruin his smile.

Jack shoved his hands in his pocket, the denim stretching around his balled fists. Rocking back and forth on his heels, Jack tilted his head back, directing his gaze to the cement ceiling.

"Okay. . . I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean that you're an untrustworthy person. . . actually. . . I did mean that. But I didn't mean to offend you. I know we have our differences. . ." Jack felt his throat growing tight and he cleared it roughly. She still gave him no reaction.

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