I flicked the lighter and brought it up, letting the flame catch the tip while I leaned into it just enough to get it going.
He watched me for a second, then shook his head. “Yeah… you can’t be smoking that out here. Mr. Lennox can’t stand cigarette smoke. It ain’t allowed.”
I glanced at him, then at the coffee in his hand, before taking a slow pull from the cigarette like he hadn’t said shit.
“You know,” I said, letting the smoke fall out easy, “they say cigarettes can kill you because of all that cancer shit.”
He looked at me, confused more than anything, like he wasn’t sure where I was going with it.
I tilted my head a little, my eyes dropping back to that cup. “But the way I look at it, you never really know what’s in anything you’re consuming.”
He frowned, about to say something, but the words never made it out.
His body shifted first, just slightly, like his balance was off, and then it hit him all at once. The cup slipped from his hand and hit the ground, spilling across the pavement as he staggered forward.
I moved without thinking, catching him before he could fall face-first and draw attention we didn’t need.
“Relax,” I muttered low, holding him up while his body gave out. “You good.”
His head dropped, and within seconds, he was out.
I kept him upright long enough to make it look like he was just leaning, then I moved him off to the side and dragged him behind a set of bushes where he wouldn’t be seen unless somebody went looking.
Once he was settled, I straightened out my uniform, adjusted the badge on my chest, and pulled on a pair of gloves before heading toward the house like I was responding to something routine.
The door opened without a problem. My access hit the system, and just like that, I was inside.
The difference between outside and inside hit immediately. It was quiet in a way that felt intentional, like the house itself didn’t allow noise to linger. Everything was clean, polished, expensive, and untouched.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of glasses, sliding them on so I didn’t have to rely on any lights. The layout came into view clearer, and I moved through the space without hesitation, checking each room as I went.
Every step had purpose, and every movement was controlled enough that nothing shifted out of place behind me.
By the time I made it to the primary bedroom, I already knew something felt off.
The bed was occupied, but only halfway.
Jamie Lennox was laid out, completely still. I moved closer, keeping my distance just enough to watch her chest rise and fall without disturbing anything.
Her nightstand caught my attention next. A bottle of wine sat next to a prescription bottle, and when I picked it up, I didn’t need more than a glance to understand what I was looking at. She had been taking pills, probably to cope with loss and grief.
I set it back down and looked at her again, connecting it without needing to think too hard about it.
Then I noticed her phone.
I reached into my bag, pulled out a burner, and connected it clean, letting the transfer run while I stood there listening for anything out of place. The screen lit up with a picture of her and her kids, and for a second, I took that in without reacting to it.
Once the data finished, I set everything back exactly how it was and moved on.
The rest of the house opened up as I moved deeper, and eventually I came across a room that didn’t match the others.
It looked like a study. The door opened slow, and the smell of liquor hit before anything else did.
Roderick was laid out on the sofa with a bottle in his hand, completely gone. I stood there for a second, watching him, making sure this wasn’t some act or some half-sleep waiting to snap awake. He didn’t move.
I shook my head lightly. “These are some drunk, toxic motherfuckers.”
I stepped in, keeping my movements tight while I scanned the room. His jacket hung over a chair, and when I checked the pocket, his phone was inside.
