Chapter 4: Unraveling the Thread (Jack’s POV)

It's soon after 8:00 a.m. at the point when I show up at the diner, the sun scarcely slicing through the morning dew, leaving the roads wet and smooth from the previous evening's rain. There are only a couple of customers sipping coffee and gazing into space. I love this time of day since it's calm and there's no strain to keep up with the rest of the world. The low mumble of talk blends with the clatter of cutlery, and the smell of hot coffee and bacon.

Sarah is sitting near the back in a corner, her hands surrounding a hot coffee cup. She is staring out the window, but she is not focused on anything specific. As I get closer, I can tell that she's lost in thought.

I sneak into the seat across from her and say, "Morning."

She looks up, and then gives me a tiny smile after her eyes briefly soften. "Hi, Jack."

She seems to be waiting for me to ask about the case during the gap that lasts just a little bit too long. She's cautious, as though she's checking to ensure I will not disintegrate underneath the heaviness of anything that she was going to be telling me. I'm also mindful that I shouldn't compel her to do everything.

"Okay," I begin, reaching for the menu even though I know I won't place an order. "What's up?"

Sarah puts her coffee mug down after taking a sip. "The second body was similarly setup to the first. similar details and placement." Her voice trailing off as she leans in. "Jack, Quinn's victims followed exactly the same pattern. However, something is different."

I gently nod while running my fingers along the menu's edge. "different?"

She seems to be searching for the right words as she pauses. "The scenes are just too perfect. There was always a feeling of chaos and control ebbing away with Quinn. However, these? They are accurate. It looks as though the murderer is perfecting Quinn's technique."

I relax, allowing her words to fully register. As I piece together what she's saying with what I remember, my mind starts to race.

She watches me closely and asks, "What are you thinking?"

I shrug, but thoughts are already racing through my head. "Whoever is doing this is not merely replicating Quinn's activities. They have too much detail."

Sarah lets out a sigh, and her eyes show how tired she is. "That's the reason I was scared. This is not a copycat. It's someone who is just as familiar with the case as you are.

I look down at the table and say, "I don't know how much help I'll be. "You're aware of the current situation."

She nods, but I can see a certain resolve in her eyes. She is determined to finish this. "Jack. But the details from before the accident, are still there. You are the expert on this case."

There's a weight in the air between us, and if I accept, there's no going back.

"All right," I finally look her in the eye and say. "I'll have a look."

I notice the relief on her face as she lets out a breath. "I'm grateful."

For a short while, we sit in silence as the sounds of the diner fill the air between us.

Sarah then moves, and I can see there's more. "One last thing: Marcus Shaw may be sent back to help with this case."

Shaw. For as long as I can remember, the guy has been a pain in my side. Never trusting me, always finding a way to discredit my efforts. I know his coming back is trouble because we never got along.

"What, they don't think I'm qualified for this?" I say, speaking more strongly than I meant to.

Sarah gives a headshake. "That isn't the case. Simply put, Shaw is available and the higher-ups want another pair of eyes on this. I know your history with him, but if he comes back, we'll handle it"

I nod, but a familiar rage seeps into a part of me. Even before my memory problems, Shaw never had faith in me. Upon his return, he will be watching my every action and waiting for me to make a mistake.

We silently drink our coffee, the weight of what lies ahead looming big.

Upon returning to my place, I unfold the Quinn file and turn the pages. I touch the photos with my fingers, allowing the pictures to fully absorb. The victims' faces are fixed on me, and even after all these years, I can still clearly remember every little detail. The memories are clear and vivid.

I then go to the new case files.

The shots are alike. The details line up perfectly, and the bodies are positioned in the same way. However, something is strange. Something that I'm not exactly sure what it is.

I take out my earlier notes and contrast them with the current ones.

I relax in my chair and look at the pictures. My mind is racing, trying to process everything. Then it happens.

The surge.

It's sudden, like a hit to the gut. My room is no longer mine. I stand over a body, and the air is heavy with the smell of blood. I see that my hands are slippery and that I have a knife in my hand. I get a wave of fear when the victim's lifeless eyes look up at me. I try to let go of the knife, but my fingers become stuck.

Then, it vanishes as swiftly as it came. My heart is racing in my chest as I return to my flat. Grasping the edge of the table, I try to steady myself as my hands shake.

What on earth was that?

I make myself focus and breathe. It was only a mind trick, a vision. I am aware that hallucinations like these can be brought on by my condition. But this one felt too real. I could feel the heaviness of the knife in my grasp and the smell of blood.

I disregarded the thought, attempting to focus on the documents that are before me.

No. It's only a trick of my mind. It must be.

I get up and go to the sink, sprinkling cold water all over. I take a look at my reflecion, and it seems worn and tired. These days, I hardly recognize myself. I don't have time to think about that, though.

A knock comes as I'm finishing up my hand drying. I only ever get visits from Sarah and Ben.

I move closer, my chest squeezed with fear. When I opened the door.

Rebecca.

When our eyes meet, everything else seems to disappear. Her brilliant eyes and cautious manner are the same. However, there's something about the way she looks that makes me think this is more than just a casual visit.

"Jack," she whispers softly, and I can see the reluctance, the uncertainty. "Can we talk?"

And all of a sudden, things come back into focus. After all these years, Rebecca is finally here.

I nod, my thoughts racing. "Yes, please come in."