A/N: I would like to point out, before this story goes any further, that I am not an expert on P.I's and law enforcement as a whole. I don't know very much about laws either, so a lot of this is coming from a place of pure imagination. I apologize to those of you who might know more about these things, I'm sure you will see inconsistencies between reality and this story. Please bear with me though, for the sake of the story and imaginative writing. I'll do my best to make things as plausible as possible
Sincerely,
Nim

I sit at my computer, nervously bouncing my leg as I wait for the damned dinosaur to boot up. I've had the hulking monstrosity forever, but never really bothered to touch it for fear of breaking it irreparably.

Which, I'll admit, defeats the purpose of having one. But I digress.

I've already sent Jeonguk a text, letting him know that I will be arriving at the station tommorow afternoon with all the paperwork necessary to review the autopsy reports. Now that I have a contract with Jessie, he can't withhold that information from me. And neither can Seokjin, no matter how much it might aggravate him.

It takes forever and a half, but eventually, I'm able to log into Gmail, and sift through my emails. I could probably easily do this with my cell phone, but I've recently discovered that my thumbs are far too big for typing out official documents and emails, much to my utter chagrin.

Besides, the less I handle my phone, the better in all honesty. It's the fourth phone I've had to buy this year alone, and I really don't want to throw anymore money away.

I manage to find Jessie's email quickly enough, despite the hundreds of unread emails that I've accumulated. Half of them are spam mail, and the other half, from people I couldn't care less about hearing from. I swear, it should be illegal just how easily these scammy companies are able to get ahold of a person's email and phone number.

The list of names isn't very long, I notice. In fact, there are only three of them, two of which are definitely men's names. Fortunately, the list also mentions that they all go to the same school, the University of Washington. I should be able to make my way down there first thing in the morning. Now that I've been hired to investigate, I should easily be able to poach their schedules from the administrative office, and track each of them down for questioning.

A quick glance at the clock on my office wall reveals just how late it is, and I sigh. I should probably head home and get some sleep. Investigating on little sleep is never a good idea, fatigue can easily cause even a brilliant mind such as mine to miss key details.

I stand, and grab my coat from the wooden rack beside the door. And, after grabbing my umbrella and locking the door behind me, I make my way out and into Seattle's drizzling streets.

The street light for this block seem to be in desperate need of repair. They flicker, seemingly unable to decide whether they should remain shining or not, therefore making it a little more difficult than normal to see where I'm going.

There are always less people out and about at this time of night, but it's the first time.in a while that I've experienced the sensation of being completely alone on the sidewalk.

It's almost eerie.

Suddenly, however, the sound of footsteps begin to echo my own. I turn around, only to find the sidewalk just as empty as it had been moments prior. Suspicious. Very, very suspicious. I finger the gun strapped to my waist nervously. I've not had a tremendous amount of experience firing the pistol, even during my time on the force. But I've certainly had enough, and enough training, to be confident in my ability to defend myself should it come to that.

I begin walking once more, eyes forward as I pick up my pace. And once more, I hear another set of footsteps aside from my own. This time, I don't even bother looking back.

It's strange that I am being followed like this. This is a fairly decent neighborhood, one with a relatively low crime rate at that. I have an odd hunch that this is no simple mugging, but something far more sinister. If I were an ordinary citizen, I'd hurry into the nearest open shop and call a friend. This is the advice I've given to over a dozen men and women during my time at the P.D. walking with a friend makes you less of a target, complicates things for a mugger or random pervert stalker.

But I'm not a random citizen, and my gut tells me that whoever is shadowing me is no mere mugger either.

I turn the corner, rather than crossing the street as I usually would. My apartment is in the other direction. Somehow I don't think it's a good idea to walk my stalker directly to my home. Furthermore, this gives me the opportunity to draw my gun and lie in wait.

A few moments pass, and nothing happens. I can't even hear that extra set of footsteps anymore. But I'm not quite ready to lower my guard just yet.

When those moments turn into minutes, however, I figure that it might be safe to peek around the corner. I have no intentions of fleeing from whoever this is, rather, I want to know who is following me and why. It could even pertain to the case. The murderous psychopath responsible for my family's death might have found out that I am investigating once more.

And just like before, it would raise questions that I almost wish I hadn't thought of.

Almost.

But at this point, even if Kim Seokjin himself were the murderer, I'd make him pay.

I place my gun back in it's holster. Whoever it was that was tailing me is long gone now. The stalker probably realized that I was aware of him, and high tailed it to avoid exposure. This only further drives my curiosity, and vindicates that feeling in my gut.

"Smart, " I mutter to myself. "Clearly not your average pickpocket."

I reach into my pockets and pull out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and without fanfare. This whole situation has me feeling just a little shaken, despite the calm demeanor that I exude. It seems a little too convenient for someone to suddenly step into line behind me on my route home. The same route that I use everyday from my office.

No.

Clearly, it is someone who knows me. Or at the very least, someone who has been watching me closely.

Not for the first time, I curse my lack of evidence. If I'd managed to secure at least half a shred of anything solid back when I was on the force, I might have been able to reasonably question those around me in the workforce.

Frowning around the cigarette's filter, I wonder to myself what the chances are that any of the three people on Jessie's list can give me a solid lead. It's quite possible that they might know nothing at all. To say that I'm not entirely optimistic would be an understatement.

And I don't honestly expect much out of the coroner's report either, though that won't stop me from due diligence. Seokjin's words, his advice to me as a newbie detective, still ring in my ears as clearly as the day he'd given them.

"Never ignore a lead, even if it seems useless. You never know until you look at it with an extra critical eye."

By the time I get home, I have exhausted half my pack and nearly all of my energy. Even my brain-power is running low.

Not low enough for me to forget to lock my door, of course, but certainly enough for me to collapse upon the couch without even bothering to undo my tie. If only I'd been more clever, or if my stalker had been less so, I might have caught an important break tonight.

I think back to all of the cases I'd solved under Seokjin's watchful eye. Back then, I couldn't seem to touch a case without solving it.

The SPD's ace.

That had been me. I'd been obsessed with the idea of becoming a real detective ever since I was a boy, sold on the idea by all the old detective movies my dad had loved to watch. Mom, of course, thought they were stupid. But to Dad and I...

Well, we'd thought that detectives had to be the coolest people in the world.

It was from my father that I inherited the love of a good mystery. I truly hadn't believed there was anything better in this world that the battle of wits required to solve them.

But look at me now; still unable to find justice for my wife and child.

And of course now there is even more reason to solve this case. Personal vendetta aside, I think momentarily about Jessie and her family. Jessie's dedication to facing the truth for the sake of justice is commendable and entirely relatable. I can understand how she feels, much as I might wish I didn't. Even her parents, who are so dead set against dredging up painful truths, deserve the peace of knowing that the freak who hurt their child will never hurt another.

There's too much riding on this case for me to fail.

Briefly, I wonder how Jessie is holding up. I can't help but admire the strength it must have taken for her to push aside the pain and continue living. After Nari's death, and the death of Areum, I'd been little more than a zombie for months. And yet, that day on the bus, I'd distinctly witnessed her smile.

I'd often thought of my heart as frozen, and yet, I can't deny that it aches for her. I have no idea whether or not she and her sister were close, but even were they not, Hailee's death has clearly hit her hard. Losing a family member is never easy, no matter the state of the relationship. And I get the impression that her parent's aren't exactly a pillar of support for her in all of this either.

They are probably far too wrapped up in their own grief to consider the grief of their only remaining child.

I pull out my phone, wincing as the display reveals to me that it is almost midnight. It would certainly be impolite, improper even, to call or message her now. But I recall how badly her eyes had been swollen, and how long I'd lain awake in the months following the death's of my own family members.

Somehow, when I think of her laying alone in her bed and crying, impropriety doesn't worry me as much as perhaps it should.

I send her a quick text, the standard fare of course. I hope you're holding up alright, and please don't hesitate to call or text me of you need a listening ear. Things like that. It feels a little stiff, and maybe even a little forced. But that's to be expected.

How long has it been since I worried about the state of anyone else's heart? I'm bound to be a little rusty by now, granted, I'd never really had great social graces to begin with. Sure, I'm personable and charming enough when I want to be. Or at least, I was. But I'd always felt a certain level of anxiety in social situations.

I don't expect that she'll answer me tonight, if at all. In all honesty, she might even be put off by my pathetic attempt to be the nice guy. But I at least feel better for having tried.

A minute or so later however, just as my eyes are beginning to droop, I hear the distinct ping of a text notification. I blindly grasp about, too tired to sit up and reach for the damned thing properly. The light of my screen is uncomfortably bright, and I curse inwardly. I really should remember to turn the brightness down before going to bed.

A quick swipe up reveals a text from Jessie herself, and my lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile.

Thank you.

She's typed.

And though that's all it says, I know exactly how she feels.