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to get taken out.

But it wouldn’t be the first time someone came knocking at my door, nor would it be the last, I believed.

As I approached the door, I heard the first sounds of whoever might be out there. It was a woman, crying. The knocking didn’t cease until I stopped beside it, pressing the barrel of my revolver against the door and calling out:

“Who’s out there?”

“It’s Lauren,” came the reply. “Jack, I’m scared and I need your help.”

Without a second thought, knowing anyone might’ve been with her, I swung the door open. I swung the revolver haphazardly, clearing left then right and making sure no one was with her. Had there been anyone, I wouldn’t have shot, but it was better to show anyone looking on that I was ready at all times.

Lauren looked at me, then the gun, and back at me. She was dressed up in her outfit for the day, a turquoise blouse and a long black skirt. Her face was already done up with makeup, accentuating all her features—the only difference than a typical day were the tear stains that ran down her cheeks.

“Lauren, what happened?” I asked, but before she said anything, she rushed into my arms. Still half-naked with only a loose robe around my shoulders, it was almost uncomfortable, but I gave her whatever comfort I could with a half-hug, the gun always pointed to the ground.

Lauren continued sniffling, shaking her head. I expected the worst, knowing very little elicited such a reaction in her. I gave her time, not questioning further, letting Lauren work through this at her own pace.

She pulled away from me when she felt ready, wiping her eyes with the length of her fingers. A weak smile appeared on her lips, and she cleared her throat with a cough.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to say sorry for anything, Lauren. Never, not to me,” I replied.

I presumed it was the stress from what had been happening the last few days. Taking death threats on your shoulders was never an easy thing, and to someone that should have never been in the firing line, it was all the harder.

“They’re going after my mother, Jack,” she added, and the tears spilled freely once more. “I don’t know what I can do about it.”

Without warning, Lauren collapsed to her ass, bringing her knees up to her chest. I fell beside her, wrapping an arm around one shoulder, trying to comfort her in any way possible. She rested her head against my arm, never breaking the cocoon she created.

“What do you mean going after your mother?” I asked the question, expecting to wait. This time, Lauren gave no pause.

“After getting ready this morning, heading for the door, I saw an envelope pushed under it,” she explained, rather eloquently for someone weeping. “There was no letter, no threats, just pictures.”

She took a moment to find the strength to break away from her almost-fetal position before searching through her handbag. From it, she pulled an envelope, the same as all the rest. It read: ‘Lauren Becket – A warning.’

Scattering the contents out onto the kitchen floor, ten polaroids fell to the ground. They ranged from different times throughout the day, but each showed Lauren’s mother in some way.

Lauren’s mother, Anastasia Becket, lived on her own in a small condominium in the city. On the first floor, she had a small garden. The photos were mostly taken from outside, looking into her home. Either with her caretaker or alone during the morning, afternoon, and night.

None of them were particularly threatening apart from the last. The final picture in the collection was taken from inside Anastasia’s bedroom, late at night. She slept, at least that’s what I hoped, while the photographer snapped the photo of her.

It’s no wonder Lauren was in such a panic.

“Lauren, it’s going to be okay. Have you called to check in on your mother?”

She nodded her head, breaking away from my grip. “I called her as soon as I saw the pictures. She’s okay, if not a little annoyed that I woke her up so early.”

Lauren chuckled uncomfortably, trying to break the tension. She tried to save face and keep a happy smile, even though the situation turned dire.

“That’s a good start,” I said, getting back to my feet.

I wanted to try my best to comfort her further, but I didn’t know how. This was unknown to me, and in my time, there was rarely anyone that targeted those around me. No one had a personal grudge against Lauren, no matter how involved she got in a case. So this uncharted water was terrifying. I knew that I had to help her, but I had no way of doing it.

“I don’t know what to do, Jack,” she said, her face twisted with another bout of tears readying to spill. “If anything happens to her because of me, I’d…”

“I’ll make sure that your mother stays safe, Lauren. I promised that I wouldn’t let anything happen to any of my crew, and I meant that,” I said before she ran off with further dark thoughts.

“I know,” she said, getting back to her feet. “I just didn’t know what else to do. Got sent in a spiral of panic and knew you’d be able to pull me out of it.”

“You know you can come to me anytime you want,” I said, watching as she collected her things, picked up the photos from the ground, and made way for the door. “If you want to stick around for a bit, you don’t have to rush off either. Take it easy, I’m here for you.”

“I don’t want to be more of a bother than I’ve already been,” she said, opening the door.

We said our goodbyes and she left.

The second she

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