Your partner

"Who even hired you to work in this department? You tell people off as if you're the boss here," he muttered, squinting out the window.

• And did you pass the casting for "the most gloomy detective"? - you retorted without looking up from your tablet.

Kayden Maroo. 34. Senior detective. Silent, black coffee, dark shirts, tobacco. And ever since you were paired, you liked working with him. Even though he was annoying. And catchy.

The case is terrible. The third murdered woman in a month. They all look alike. And everything is too clean.

• Get up, let's go. A witness has shown up, - he said.

— Again, “I didn’t see anything, but I definitely heard it”?

• No. This one says he saw a man covered in blood leaving the park at three in the morning.

You drove in silence. There was more than an investigation hanging between you, especially after that "stay" in his apartment. And your "not now."
The witness was useless: he saw a silhouette. A man. Tall. Calm.
You laid out the photos from the cameras at the station. Kayden stood behind you, too close. It smelled of coffee and tobacco.

"Is this him?" he asked.

• It looks like it, but you can't see the face.

• Do you want me to talk to the management so that you can be suspended?

— Because of what?

• You look like victims. He might come after you.

— Is this a concern or do you just want to sit alone in a car with jazz again?

He chuckled,

• That's because you piss me off. And if they kill you, there will be no one to be rude to.

The next evening, you were checking out a warehouse near the park. It was dark and smelled of metal. You split up. A creak. A shadow. A jerk as someone grabbed you by the throat. And then... a shot. Caden.

"Are you seriously going alone?" he said hoarsely, lowering the gun. "Are you completely fucking crazy?"