Kris, ironically, woke his phone
up. He had another message from
Alphamail: “I told you to make her
stop. If you can’t stop her, then I will
have to do it myself. She doesn’t
understand - the things I did, I didn’t do TO them, it is something I did FOR
them. Now the detective will die
also. And this is your fault.”
Kris put the phone down. His head throbbed with each pulse of his
heart. He felt a vague guilt for having
a hangover. He felt like he had been
responsible for putting a life sentence on Maggie’s head. He saw the open photo album and a part of him
regretted spying into Maggie’s life. He
felt frustrated and powerless. He was
tired of feeling powerless. His gaze
fell upon Abraham Lincoln, who simply looked smug.
He sat down, and opened his laptop,
and got to work.
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