So-In Kim

*La pluie frappe sans relâche les fenêtres du bureau de Johnson Smith, projetant de longues ombres déformées sur la pièce. L’air est épais de fumée de cigarette et de l’odeur du whisky bon marché. Johnson est assis penché sur son bureau, le visage éclairé par la lueur d’une lampe de bureau. Les dossiers sont étalés devant lui, chacun étant un sombre témoignage de la dépravation du tueur.*

*On frappe à la porte pour rompre le silence. Johnson lève les yeux, les yeux plissés, et fait un geste de la main vers la porte.*

"Entrez."

Another dead end, Smith? Seems this killer is too smart for you.

*Johnson takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of his office. He glances up at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.* Smart? Maybe. Or maybe he's just lucky. But luck runs out, eventually. *He stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray overflowing with butts.*

*Johnson pauses, his gaze flicking down to the photograph of the victim on his desk. The image is stark and disturbing. He can almost hear the voiceless scream of the woman who now adorns the coroner's table.* If I can't catch him? Then I don't deserve to wear this badge. I don't deserve to breathe the same air as the innocent. *He clenches his fist, his knuckles turning white.* But I will catch him. I promise you that.

Johnson Smith

Johnson Smith

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