Chapter 6 - Chapter six

🌹"The Police Station"🌹

"Morning."

Jack's voice cut through the silence the moment Paul stepped in.

Paul didn't even look at him. He shrugged off his coat slowly, eyes already scanning the room.

"You're early," he said flatly.

"Something wrong… or your wife kicked you out again?"

Jack stiffened—just for a second.

Then he forced a lazy smirk, throwing his legs onto the desk.

"My job comes first. Unlike some people who treat sleep like a full-time career."

Paul let out a quiet scoff, finally meeting his eyes.

"Right."

A brief silence stretched between them—tight, loaded.

"Any leads?" Paul asked.

"Moses… Mr. Johnson?"

Jack's smirk faded. He leaned back, exhaling.

"Nothing. Whoever he's dealing with… they're clean. Too clean."

Paul's jaw tightened.

"And Rose?" he pressed.

Jack shook his head slowly.

"Same story. No prints. No witnesses. No mistakes."

(beat)

"Whoever did it… knows exactly what they're doing."

He bit into a donut, the casualness clashing with the weight of his words.

Paul watched him, unimpressed.

"You keep eating like that, you'll be chasing suspects on a stretcher."

Jack smirked with his mouth full.

"I'm still in shape."

Paul's lips curled slightly.

"You couldn't outrun a bicycle."

Jack shot him a glare—but didn't argue.

Paul's gaze drifted across the empty office.

"Where is everyone?"

Jack sat up a little.

"UP Hospital. Stabbing case. Moses reported it himself."

That got Paul's attention.

"Was he hurt?" he asked, sharper than intended.

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes narrowing.

"Wait… you're worried about him now?"

Paul's expression hardened instantly.

"Don't twist it. I just want him alive long enough to face justice."

Silence.

Then Paul turned, already heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jack called.

Paul didn't stop.

"To see things for myself."

(beat)

"If anything comes in… you call me first."

The glass doors swung shut behind him.

Jack stared after him, uneasy now.

Something was off.

"🦋UP Hospital"🦋

The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air.

Moses sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his fingers tapping impatiently against the metal rail. His bandaged shoulder throbbed, but it wasn't the pain bothering him.

It was them.

"Did you see who stabbed your co-worker?"

Mia's voice again.

Calm. Controlled. Persistent.

Moses let out a slow breath, dragging his hand down his face.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

His eyes lifted—cold now.

"I didn't see it happen."

Her partner's pen scratched across paper.

"I arrived," Moses continued, his voice tightening,

"when Leo was already bleeding out."

Mia didn't move.

"How did you know something was wrong?" she asked.

A pause.

Then—Moses laughed.

Low. Mocking.

"Now I see why cases stay unsolved," he muttered.

The air shifted.

He stood.

Mia stepped forward immediately, blocking his path.

"You're not done here."

Moses leaned closer, his voice dropping.

"Windows," he said.

"You should try using them. They're quite helpful."

Her jaw tightened.

"I saw bodies on the floor… and someone running."

(beat)

"That was enough."

He moved again.

She didn't budge.

"Mr. Moses, sit down and cooperate—"

He brushed past her.

Hard.

"If you spent less time asking useless questions," he snapped,

"maybe you'd actually catch the person who did this."

The ward went quiet.

Every eye on them.

Moses didn't look back.

Mia stood still for a moment, her fists clenched.

Then—

"You okay?" her partner asked carefully.

She exhaled slowly.

"…Now I understand Paul."

She turned.

"Let's get the other statements."

But something about this case… didn't sit right.

🌹Anita & Moses' Apartment" — 7:56 AM🌹

"Barnabas. Eat."

Anita's voice was firm—but distracted.

The boy stared at his plate like it offended him.

"I don't want to go to school."

"Not today," she said quickly.

He looked up, surprised.

"Let's go see your dad instead."

That caught him off guard.

"…Really?"

Anita forced a smile.

"Really."

But her hands weren't steady.

Not after what he said.

"Dad was bleeding," Barnabas whispered.

The words echoed in her mind.

Over and over.

She had the same dream.

The same image.

Blue carpet.

Blood.

Voices she couldn't understand.

Her chest tightened.

Upstairs, she grabbed her phone—dialing quickly.

Busy.

Again.

Unavailable.

Her breath hitched.

"Why won't you pick up…" she whispered.

"Mummy!" Barnabas called.

She rushed down.

"Let's go—"

Then she stopped.

The door was open.

Too open.

"Barnabas?"

No answer.

Her heartbeat spiked.

She stepped outside—

—and froze.

Barnabas was on the ground.

Crying.

Blood trickling down his wrist.

"Barnabas!"

She dropped beside him, panic exploding in her chest.

"What happened?!"

"I… I was pushed," he sobbed.

Her head snapped up.

The street was empty.

Silent.

"No one is here…" she whispered.

"They…" he started—

Then stopped.

His eyes locked onto something.

A black van.

Driving away.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

Anita's breath caught.

A chill ran down her spine.

"Come inside," she said quickly, her voice shaking now.

"We need to clean that."

"But—"

"No arguments."

Her phone rang.

Too loud.

Too sudden.

"Bella," she answered, trying to steady her voice.

"You're not in school. The headmaster is asking questions."

"My son is hurt," Anita said quickly, her eyes still fixed on the road.

"I'm taking him to his father."

A pause.

"…Alright. Just be careful."

The call ended.

Anita didn't move.

Her grip tightened around Barnabas.

Something wasn't right.

The dream.

Moses not answering.

The van.

And now—

Blood.

😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁 

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