Adrian woke to the pale gray of morning, the city's distant rumble already seeping through the thin walls of his apartment. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of exhaustion settle over him. The timer hovered in the corner of his vision: 14:37:09. The numbers pulsed with cold urgency, a silent countdown only he could see.
He rolled out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. The apartment was cluttered with the detritus of sleepless nights—case files, empty coffee cups, a jacket draped over a chair. He shuffled to the kitchen, started the coffee maker, and leaned against the counter, watching the city wake up through the window. Somewhere out there, the Clockwork Murderer was waiting. Somewhere, another life was hanging in the balance.
He made breakfast—toast, eggs, whatever was left in the fridge. The routine was grounding, a small anchor in the chaos. He ate in silence, the system quietly updating the case board in the background, invisible to anyone but him.
After breakfast, he took a quick shower, letting the hot water chase away the last remnants of sleep. He dressed in his usual uniform—worn jeans, a button-down shirt, the badge clipped to his belt. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as he leaned against the bathroom sink.
System: What a daily habit! Not healthy!
Adrian exhaled a plume of smoke, ignoring the system's admonishment. He focused on the timer instead. 14:22:44. More than half a day left, but it didn't feel like enough. Not with the killer still out there, not with the case still spinning its wheels.
He pulled up the second victim's file in the system, letting the details scroll across his vision.
Name: Thomas Swiss
Occupation: Construction worker
Company: Lenard Construction and Development Company
Work Location: District 6
Distance: 2 hours from current location
He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, and grabbed his keys. He checked his phone—no new messages, no updates from Officer Lin. He locked the door behind him and headed down to the car, the city already awake and restless.
The drive to District 6 was long and monotonous, the highway stretching out in endless gray ribbons. Adrian kept one eye on the road, the other on the system's interface. He replayed the details of the case in his mind, searching for anything he might have missed.
Halfway through the drive, his phone buzzed. Officer Lin's name flashed on the screen.
"Cross," he answered, voice rough.
"Detective," Lin said, her tone brisk. "We found something. The footprints near Andrew Smiles' body—we tracked them. Located the man. He's at the precinct now, waiting for interrogation."
Adrian gripped the wheel tighter. "Is he talking?"
"Not really. He's reluctant to testify. Says he was just passing by, doesn't want to get involved."
"Keep him on hold," Adrian said. "I've got business to take care of. I'll check in when I'm done."
"Understood," Lin replied. "But if he's not the killer—"
"I'll handle it," Adrian said, ending the call.
He let the silence settle, glancing at the timer. The numbers kept ticking down, relentless. If the man in custody was the killer, the system would have stopped the countdown. But it hadn't. Adrian was the only one who knew what that meant.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of highway and static. By the time he reached Lenard Construction, the timer read 12:35:43. The site was a sprawl of steel beams and concrete, workers moving like ants across the skeleton of a new building.
Adrian parked near the entrance and flashed his badge to the security guard. "I'm looking for the foreman."
The guard pointed him toward a cluster of trailers at the edge of the site. Adrian made his way over, boots crunching on gravel. A dark-skinned, slightly muscular man was waiting outside, arms crossed over his chest.
"Detective Cross?" the man asked, voice deep and steady.
"That's me," Adrian replied, offering a handshake. "You must be John Rudio."
John nodded, his grip firm. "Foreman here. You're here about Thomas?"
Adrian nodded. "I need to ask you a few questions. Anything you can tell me about him would help."
John's expression softened. "Thomas was a role model. Always early, never late, never missed a day. He wanted to learn, always asked questions. Our engineer saw potential in him—asked me to train him as my assistant. He was more than just a worker. He was going places."
He paused, then ducked into the trailer and returned with a glossy magazine. "Here. Our company put him on the cover last month. That's how proud we were."
Adrian took the magazine, flipping to the cover. Thomas Swiss stared back at him, smiling, hard hat tilted at a jaunty angle. The photo was crisp, professional—too professional. Adrian's eyes narrowed as he studied the composition, the lighting, the subtle logo in the bottom corner: JP.
"Mind if I keep this?" Adrian asked.
John shook his head. "It's yours. I hope it helps."
Adrian thanked him and made his way back to the car, the magazine tucked under his arm. He slid into the driver's seat and pulled up the system.
"Scan the cover photo," he instructed silently. "Compare it to the newspaper photo of Andrew Smiles and the Employee of the Month photo of Samantha Cortez."
The system processed the images, overlays flickering across Adrian's vision.
System: Analysis complete. All three photos share the same style—lighting, composition, background. There is a small logo on each: JP.
Adrian frowned. "Check the police database. What's JP?"
A few seconds passed. The system chimed.
System: JP stands for Jade Photography. Studio located in District 8.
Adrian checked the timer. 11:20:40. He still had time, but District 8 was four hours away from District 6. He'd be cutting it close.
He started the car, flicked on the siren, and pulled out onto the road. The city blurred past, lights and shadows flickering across the windshield. For the first time in days, Adrian felt a spark of hope. He finally had a lead—a real, tangible thread to follow.
The system chimed again, voice softer now.
System: Estimated arrival at Jade Photography: 7:15 remaining on the timer.
Adrian drove in silence, the magazine open on the passenger seat. He studied the photos, looking for anything he might have missed. The faces were different, but the style was unmistakable. Whoever took these photos had a signature—a way of capturing their subjects that was both intimate and unsettling.
He wondered if the killer was the photographer, or if the photographer was just another pawn in the game. He wondered how many other faces had been captured by that lens, how many other lives had been marked for death.
The highway stretched out before him, endless and empty. The timer ticked down, relentless.
He thought about the victims—Samantha, Andrew, Thomas. All of them hardworking, reliable, always on the clock. All of them immortalized in photos, their smiles frozen in time. He wondered if that was the connection, if the killer was choosing victims based on their public image, their reputation for reliability.
He wondered if he was next.
The system chimed again, breaking the silence.
System: Would you like to review the case board?
Adrian shook his head. "No. Just keep scanning for updates."
He pressed harder on the accelerator, the siren wailing in the distance. The city fell away behind him, replaced by open road and the promise of answers.
He checked the timer again. 10:58:12.
He was running out of time.
Chapter 15 – Time is Running Out
Adrian woke to the pale gray of morning, the city's distant rumble already seeping through the thin walls of his apartment. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of exhaustion settle over him. The timer hovered in the corner of his vision: 14:37:09. The numbers pulsed with cold urgency, a silent countdown only he could see.
He rolled out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. The apartment was cluttered with the detritus of sleepless nights—case files, empty coffee cups, a jacket draped over a chair. He shuffled to the kitchen, started the coffee maker, and leaned against the counter, watching the city wake up through the window. Somewhere out there, the Clockwork Murderer was waiting. Somewhere, another life was hanging in the balance.
He made breakfast—toast, eggs, whatever was left in the fridge. The routine was grounding, a small anchor in the chaos. He ate in silence, the system quietly updating the case board in the background, invisible to anyone but him.
After breakfast, he took a quick shower, letting the hot water chase away the last remnants of sleep. He dressed in his usual uniform—worn jeans, a button-down shirt, the badge clipped to his belt. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as he leaned against the bathroom sink.
System: What a daily habit! Not healthy!
Adrian exhaled a plume of smoke, ignoring the system's admonishment. He focused on the timer instead. 14:32:44. More than half a day left, but it didn't feel like enough. Not with the killer still out there, not with the case still spinning its wheels.
He pulled up the second victim's file in the system, letting the details scroll across his vision.
Name: Thomas Swiss
Occupation: Construction worker
Company: Lenard Construction and Development Company
Work Location: District 6
Distance: 2 hours from current location
He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, and grabbed his keys. He checked his phone—no new messages, no updates from Officer Lin. He locked the door behind him and headed down to the car, the city already awake and restless.
The drive to District 6 was long and monotonous, the highway stretching out in endless gray ribbons. Adrian kept one eye on the road, the other on the system's interface. He replayed the details of the case in his mind, searching for anything he might have missed.
Halfway through the drive, his phone buzzed. Officer Lin's name flashed on the screen.
"Cross," he answered, voice rough.
"Detective," Lin said, her tone brisk. "We found something. The footprints near Andrew Smiles' body—we tracked them. Located the man. He's at the precinct now, waiting for interrogation."
Adrian gripped the wheel tighter. "Is he talking?"
"Not really. He's reluctant to testify. Says he was just passing by, doesn't want to get involved."
"Keep him on hold," Adrian said. "I've got business to take care of. I'll check in when I'm done."
"Understood," Lin replied. "But if he's not the killer—"
"I'll handle it," Adrian said, ending the call.
He let the silence settle, glancing at the timer. The numbers kept ticking down, relentless. If the man in custody was the killer, the system would have stopped the countdown. But it hadn't. Adrian was the only one who knew what that meant.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of highway and static. By the time he reached Lenard Construction, the timer read 12:35:43. The site was a sprawl of steel beams and concrete, workers moving like ants across the skeleton of a new building.
Adrian parked near the entrance and flashed his badge to the security guard. "I'm looking for the foreman."
The guard pointed him toward a cluster of trailers at the edge of the site. Adrian made his way over, boots crunching on gravel. A dark-skinned, slightly muscular man was waiting outside, arms crossed over his chest.
"Detective Cross?" the man asked, voice deep and steady.
"That's me," Adrian replied, offering a handshake. "You must be John Rudio."
John nodded, his grip firm. "Foreman here. You're here about Thomas?"
Adrian nodded. "I need to ask you a few questions. Anything you can tell me about him would help."
John's expression softened. "Thomas was a role model. Always early, never late, never missed a day. He wanted to learn, always asked questions. Our engineer saw potential in him—asked me to train him as my assistant. He was more than just a worker. He was going places."
He paused, then ducked into the trailer and returned with a glossy magazine. "Here. Our company put him on the cover last month. That's how proud we were."
Adrian took the magazine, flipping to the cover. Thomas Swiss stared back at him, smiling, hard hat tilted at a jaunty angle. The photo was crisp, professional—too professional. Adrian's eyes narrowed as he studied the composition, the lighting, the subtle logo in the bottom corner: JP.
"Mind if I keep this?" Adrian asked.
John shook his head. "It's yours. I hope it helps."
Adrian thanked him and made his way back to the car, the magazine tucked under his arm. He slid into the driver's seat and pulled up the system.
"Scan the cover photo," he instructed silently. "Compare it to the newspaper photo of Andrew Smiles and the Employee of the Month photo of Samantha Cortez."
The system processed the images, overlays flickering across Adrian's vision.
System: Analysis complete. All three photos share the same style—lighting, composition, background. There is a small logo on each: JP.
Adrian frowned. "Check the police database. What's JP?"
A few seconds passed. The system chimed.
System: JP stands for Jade Photography. Studio located in District 8.
Adrian checked the timer. 11:20:40. He still had time, but District 8 was four hours away from District 6. He'd be cutting it close.
He started the car, flicked on the siren, and pulled out onto the road. The city blurred past, lights and shadows flickering across the windshield. For the first time in days, Adrian felt a spark of hope. He finally had a lead—a real, tangible thread to follow.
The system chimed again, voice softer now.
System: Estimated arrival at Jade Photography: 7:15 remaining on the timer.
Adrian drove in silence, the magazine open on the passenger seat. He studied the photos, looking for anything he might have missed. The faces were different, but the style was unmistakable. Whoever took these photos had a signature—a way of capturing their subjects that was both intimate and unsettling.
He wondered if the killer was the photographer, or if the photographer was just another pawn in the game. He wondered how many other faces had been captured by that lens, how many other lives had been marked for death.
The highway stretched out before him, endless and empty. The timer ticked down, relentless.
He thought about the victims—Samantha, Andrew, Thomas. All of them hardworking, reliable, always on the clock. All of them immortalized in photos, their smiles frozen in time. He wondered if that was the connection, if the killer was choosing victims based on their public image, their reputation for reliability.
He wondered if he was next.
The system chimed again, breaking the silence.
System: Would you like to review the case board?
Adrian shook his head. "No. Just keep scanning for updates."
He pressed harder on the accelerator, the siren wailing in the distance. The city fell away behind him, replaced by open road and the promise of answers.
He checked the timer again.
He was running out of time.