I can't manage to get any sleep because of what I told prosecutor Toro, but also because of what he answered. His hypothesis... As soon as I arrive at the office, I brief M. Weekes of the situation and the details of the shooting. I also ask him for a favor; to let me pay a visit to the patient I had interviewed at the hospital, a little while ago.

M. Weekes agrees to it and wishes me luck. I rush home and put on decent enough clothes. I establish my priorities on the way, and on top of them, paying Emily a visit.

I register at the Metropolitan Hospital under a false name as one of Emily's remote relatives. It's quite surprising that the nurse and the security guard who took my information don't bother checking them. No I.D. is needed, they don't doubt my word.

As the nurse leads me to the lounge dedicated to visitors, I notice that the hallways are much cleaner and more luminous than they used to. The patients seem to be doing better, too.

Only a month has passed since my undercover operation, yet the change is noticeable in the hospital. But that doesn't reassure me. In fact, I am feeling even more uncomfortable.

I'm wondering how Emily is doing, if she is holding on... and if she is indeed the source of all my recent problems.

"You! You are this journalist! How dare you come back here?" a quite young nurse whose face I recall calls me out.

I raise my hands. "I just want to see how Emily is doing. No shady business, I promise."

"Emily? Emily is dead!"

The news reaches me like a fist in my stomach. "Dead? That's preposterous! How could have she died in a bare month? I will see her today, no matter what."

The nurse sighs and her aggressive attitude softens a little at my reaction. "I am not saying this to discourage you. Emily really died, about twenty days ago."

"You... Are you serious?" I put a hand on my mouth in shock and disbelief.

"Somebody else is already occupying her bedroom. Do you need to see her death certificate to make sure that I'm telling the truth?"

"How did she die?" I ask, ignoring the offer.

"A sudden pneumonia. No one saw it coming."

Emily did die, then? The nurse's expression isn't lying, I can tell. But I still have trouble processing the fact that this woman who seemed physically healthy is now dead.

"Can I see her body?" I request quietly. The nurse stares at me quietly.

"Sir, your sudden arrival at the hospital could cause a lot of trouble here. I need to inform my superiors," she eventually speaks up. She scurries out of the lounge.

I stay anchored on the floor though I know I can get expelled of the hospital anytime. The new is a shock. Did Emily really die? If so, how can I corroborate Mr. Toro's theory?

The sound of footsteps and a door opening catches my attention and I look up , seeing an elegant, relatively young woman enter the room, accompanied with the nurse I spoke to. The newcomer has astounding blue eyes and black hair tied in a sophisticated bun.

"How are you, Mr. Way? My name is Amy, the assistant to the president of the Metropolitan Museum. A nurse informed the president of your visit, but I would have preferred not to be warned on such...short notice." Her smile doesn't leave her face one second, but I can understand her annoyance through the mask. "The president sent me to welcome you."

Do they mean, keeping an eye on me?

"After you published your article on our hospital, its reputation was tarnished. But we have given it a thought and we have modernized the facilities and equipment..."

"Did Emily really die?" I ask Amy without letting her time to form another sentence.

"Ms. Taylor did pass away from her disease. I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Way, though I am not sure of the links uniting you and the patient," Amy states though her sentence clearly implies a question. I am starting to accept Emily's death. I can no longer follow this lead.

I start thinking hard for an alternative lead, a clue, something. Nothing.

"Where was Emily buried," I ask. "Can I visit her grave?"

"She wasn't buried," Amy answers. "She was cremated, and her ashes will be kept at the hospital until we can reach out for close parents."

I frown. "Cremated? Why didn't you wait for the family before cremating her?"

"There was no one to reach out in her file. Cremation is the usual procedure in this case."

I only frown deeper. "Did Emily have any belongings?"

Amy gives my question a quick thought. "I am not sure, but I can bring you to the storage so you can see for yourself."

I accept. Ms. Amy waits at the door, and I enter the storage alone. The janitor tells me that Emily's ashes are still there, but her belongings were claimed by her father a week ago exactly.

Emily's father? Didn't Ms. Amy just tell me that they didn't manage to reach out for a close relative? How did Emily's father find out about his daughter's death? I also remember Emily telling me that her father was dead. Why would her father only take her belongings but not her ashes anyway?

"Her father?" I tell the janitor. "Can I look at the files?"

The old, skinny man looks at me impatiently and lets me study the visitors' register.

"You see? Here." The janitor points at a specific line. "Name: George Taylor; relation to the patient : father."

"Did he provide any I.D.?"

The janitor scoffs. "Who would want to steal a lunatic's things? It was o=only useless stuff..."

"This is so irresponsible!" I exclaim. "They might be useless for you, but perhaps they were very important for others!"

"That's how we do stuff around here, my guy. Not happy? You can tell the president about it," the janitor snapped back.

I let out a huff. I shouldn't be looking for trouble, especially these days.

"The file indicates that George Taylor didn't take all of Emily's stuff. Can I please see what's left?" I insist. I can see that the old man's patience is wearing out and the fact that Ms. Amy is waiting out there really isn't helping.

The man takes out a box and hands it to me. It contains a quite dusty and dirty stuffed animal, a pig. I notice that the sewing is loose at the back of it. Is there something inside, hidden? I grab the stuffed animal and examine it.

I frown and slide a black and white photograph out of it. It shows a woman in her thirties, a police officer in his uniform with a greyish mustache, and a happy child that must not be older than 5 or 6. The two adults are smiling; the man is sitting, and the woman has her hand set on his shoulder, her arm slung around the older person whom she seems to care about. That is a family.

This woman, I recognize her. It's Emily. A younger, healthier Emily. These two people may be her daughter and father she told me about.

"Can I ask you if the man on the picture is the one who came here to pick up Emily's belongings?" I ask the janitor.

"It was a month ago. I don't remember!"

I sigh. Despite the janitor's bad mood, I keep trying to get information from him, in vain. Then, I go back to the lounge with Amy.

"Do you know anything about Emily's family, Ms. Amy?"

The woman shakes her head. "I don't, I'm sorry. I've never met them."

"Your hospital has let an unidentified man leave with a deceased patient's belongings after you cremated her without her family's consent, Ms. Amy," I sum up gravely, looking at her in the eye. "You said that the hospital improved after my last article, but you've only been playing with appearances. My article made my journal make quite impressive sales. Do you think that a sequel would be just as popular?" I narrow my eyes.

Amy gives me her best smile. "Does such a small case deserve to be on the first page of any journal?"

"Oh, it will no longer be small once published."

Amy's expression becomes more severe. "You are making my life quite difficult, Mr. Way."

"Maybe not... if you can help me obtain some information about Emily's family."

"...Please wait here for a minute," Amy requests after her reflection. Once she is gone, I try to process everything that happened today. I almost forgot the reason why I came here in the first place. It's because of the theory prosecutor Toro seeded in my mind.

If Emily's father is truly deceased, then who came to take her stuff and what does he intend to do with it? Is it connected to the way Emily died? Or...to what happened to me?

If everything, the stalking, getting fired, even the shooting, happened because of my article...maybe I shouldn't have written it...

"Here are the patient's details, Mr. Way." Amy interrupts my thoughts. It's important, I'd better take a picture.

The registration reads: "Emily Taylor, father; George Taylor, one daughter. After the unexpected death of her tutor George Taylor, her will stipulates that a certain Bob Bryar will be her guardian. The expenses will be covered by Bryar."

Her father died and she had a daughter. Emily was telling the truth. But who is this Bob Bryar?

"How can I reach out Bob Bryar?" I ask Amy.

"If it isn't on this registration, then it means that there are no details whatsoever."

Is he the one who took Emily's stuff? Why claim to be her father? I need to find this man. But without any further detail and nothing more than his name, I have no idea how I will do that.

I try to find out more about Bryar, but Amy doesn't have anything else to tell me about him. I can't tell if she is hiding something or if she genuinely doesn't know.

I leave the hospital an exhausted man. All I have is a photograph and two names. I observe the hospital's doors. Then I have a light bulb and figure that the one who took Emily's belongings must have registered.

I rush to the security station and ask the nurse to let me look at the file, but she immediately refuses. I take out some money and press it in her hand. "Please, just a glance. No one will know. Please?"

I give her sad eyes to try to soften her. She sighs and slides the bills in her pocket. "Just a glance. Give it back as soon as you're done."

I skim through the pages and go back to last month. I find 'Taylor'... and his license plate. Bingo.

"Do you remember this George Taylor who came last week?"

The nurse scoffs. "Are you kidding? It was last month! I barely remember yesterday."

I write down the license plate number on my hand and hand back the file. "Thank you, I'm done. Here you go."

______

It's almost midnight when I arrive home. Not even the shy stars partly hidden by the city lights can improve my mood. Mr. Toro's theory and everything I found at the hospital... My thoughts are just melting together.

A wave of melancholia crashes onto me. I only met her once, but Emily's death still pinches my heart. And I believe that there is much more than a pneumonia going on behind it.

The police didn't even bother investigate the shooting. Even if I can go at the bottom of this and those crimes were committed, will justice be done?

If I discover the truth about this, will someone even care?

The police is corrupted, and even Ray Toro can't change that by himself. Laws can't protect our society if it only applies to certain people. I can only try to make the criminals pay for whatever they did, no matter what happens...

"Are you feeling overwhelmed before a man as rich and beautiful as am I?"

I look up. "Urie, what are you doing here?"

"Because I missed you, obviously. I haven't seen you in more than a day!" Urie rolls his eyes.

"...Really?" I frown suspiciously.

"Why such a face? Do you need help, Gerard? You seem troubled."

Urie is surely rich, and he knows important people. Perhaps he can help.

"I want to find someone. What are your suggestions?"

"Oh, so that's what's making you frown," Urie concludes. "You are only an intern; you don't have your own informers yet."

Urie hands me a card. I look at it.

"Leo? Who is that?" I ask confusedly.

"Someone who can give you info, of course. But I must warn you, he won't work if you don't pay him."

"Money? I- I don't have money."

"If you live sparingly, you should be able to afford that with your wages. Oh, by the way..." Urie gets something out of his car for me.

"Is this my hat?" I ask as he hands it to me. Urie hums.

"You left it in my car last time I drove you home. See you tomorrow!"

He came only to give it to me?... I stare at the card, thinking deeply. Will this Leo be able to help?

______