A Detective's Dilemma

The air in the precinct hung thick and heavy, like a damp wool blanket, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn night outside. Captain Mulligan had called us in, his face etched with a weariness that mirrored my own. Another one. This time, a park ranger, found near the old logging trails, his hunting rifle still clutched in his rigor-mortised fingers. Same MO. Same brutal precision.

“Ramirez, I want you and your new partner on this. Full throttle,” Mulligan’s voice was gravelly, his gaze flicking between Jack and me. Jack, leaning against the doorframe, looking entirely too relaxed for a man whose rookie status was still practically tattooed on his forehead. Me, standing with my hands shoved deep in my pockets, the familiar knot of frustration tightening in my gut.

“Captain, with all due respect,” I started, the words already tasting like ash, “Jack’s still wet behind the ears. This is a high-profile case. We’ve got the mayor breathing down our necks, the press is circling like vultures…”