Chatbot Stalker

Aren stepped back inside the house, the metallic scent of blood still lingering in the air. He approached  one of the investigators crouched near the bloodstained floor. "Give me a short rundown," he said.

The forensic specialist looked up, adjusting her gloves. "We've confirmed it's a suicide. Only her fingerprints are on the knife and there's no sign of forced entry."

Aren's brow furrowed. "What the f*ck? That's it?" he snapped. He gestured toward the room around them. "This place is a f*cking mess, there are signs of struggle! And didn't we just have a case a few months ago where the killer staged a suicide? Why aren't we even considering that possibility here? What the f*ck is going on with this team? Where's the thorough investigation we're supposed to do?

The woman shifted uncomfortably. "Uh.. well, the chief actually came in earlier and gave us the go-ahead to call it a suicide," she said a little hesitant. "He said we should wrap it up quickly."

Aren's eyes widened in disbelief. "The chief himself? Why would he even come here?" he muttered. The chief didn't usually show up on scenes unless it was a high-profile case or something out of the ordinary. But this? It didn't add up.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed toward his car. He had to meet with the chief.

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When Aren arrived at the station, he went straight inside, pushing through the doors and making his way to the chief's office. Without bothering to knock, he swung the door open and stepped in.

The chief looked up, startled by Aren's abrupt entrance, his hand still holding the receiver of the phone he'd been speaking into. He quickly set the phone down with a click and wiped his hand across his face, as if trying to shake off the tension from the call. His eyes flickered with unease before he glanced at Aren. "What is it that's so damn important you can't follow simple protocol?" he asked annoyed.

Aren's gaze hardened and he stepped forward. "You know damn well why I'm here," he said sharply. "Why did you get involved? And why rush to close the case so quickly?"

The chief leaned back in his chair and let out a tired sigh. "I just came down because I didn't have anything else to handle at the moment. It was a clear suicide, Aren," he said dismissively. "This isn't a case worth digging into any deeper. We've got bigger cases to focus on, so I told them to wrap it up."

Aren's frustration was palpable. "You can't just ignore what she said, Chief. Aimi told me this morning that if she ever died suddenly, and it looked like suicide, it wouldn't be! She said it'd be murder! And her last words were 'Kuroda Dori.' That's a direct lead, Chief, not some random name. She was trying to tell me who did it before she died!"

The chief's expression darkened for a moment, his jaw tightening before he forced a thin smile. "Listen, Aren," he began, his tone quieter. "I understand you're upset, but don't let your emotions blind you to the facts. You're reading too much into this. People say all kinds of things when they're at their breaking point, and Aimi was clearly not in her right mind when she spoke to you. And as for this Kuroda Dori―he has no motive, no history of violence, and the alibi checks out."

Aren opened his mouth, about to protest, but the chief raised a hand, cutting him off sharply. "I don't want to hear it, Aren. You need to drop this. The case is closed, and I'm telling you now―if you keep pushing without any real evidence, you could lose your badge."

Aren fell silent for a moment, his eyes locking onto the chief's. He noticed the way the chief averted his gaze and the slight twitch of his jaw. It was subtle, but Aren had been in this job long enough to know when someone was hiding something―and the chief was clearly nervous.