Chapter Twenty-two

November 2nd, 2021

            Karen fidgeted with the recording feed of her contact lens. Funny how the game goes, Karen. You get the lead of the fuckin decade, but lose it cause your contacts decide to have their period. Karen wasn’t a fan of all the new tech the Times was pushing nowadays. Had trouble keeping up ever since I hit thirty. She’d rose to semi-prominence as an investigative reporter in her late thirties, during the Trump scandal of 2018, but hadn’t landed a decent story since. That’s about to change, though. Gonna catch me the infamous Chemist, a dead man walking. Finally, the contact’s red user interface popped up, displaying three separate recording modes: Manual, Autosense, and Live Feed. Karen looked at the “Live Feed” option for two seconds, waiting for the small selection circle to load.

                Satisfied, Karen cracked her neck, looking to the black Sedan parked outside the upscale-looking apartment building. If the tip is accurate, this guy should be leaving in less than a minute. Karen had followed the Sedan in her old, dying VW beamer, from a separate apartment, where it had picked up an odd-looking man in a green tweed suit, holding a toolbox. A god-damn tool box. Maybe the Chemists assistant? Nervously tapping her finger, Karen looked to the beamer’s clock, which read 4:45. A few seconds later, Karen’s tapping ceased, as a tall man, in a black suit, walked outside the apartment complex. Who, are…you? Karen smiled, slightly, as the driver opened his door, and swung around towards the man, who seemed to be carrying a solid-looking silver briefcase. Gotcha!

                Karen picked up her smartphone, held it to her eye, and let it scan. Upon hearing the satisfying “click” of the phone unlocking, Karen navigated to her messages and wrote “Get ready to move, I think the Chemist just joined the party.” The black Sedan started to move. Careful now. Spooking a dead serial-killer won’t end well. As the black Sedan turned left out of the parking lot, Karen started her beamer, and followed. DING! Jumping slightly at the unexpected text, Karen read Lucas’s response “Boss, we should let the cops know about this. You ever see this Simon guys victims? I don’t want that to happen to me.” Annoyed, Karen quickly typed back “This could make both our careers, we have to take the risk. No police.”

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