The stakeout at the clock tower started off tense. We had teams posted at every possible entrance and exit, all eyes peeled for any sign of our elusive puzzle-loving killer. Harper was in his element, barking orders and coordinating with the officers on the ground. Jenkins and I were stationed in a nearby van, our eyes glued to the monitors that displayed feeds from the strategically placed cameras.
It was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you start second-guessing everything, your mind running through all the worst-case scenarios. Jenkins, never one to let a tense situation go without a bit of levity, decided it was time to lighten the mood.
"You know, Kan," he began, fiddling with the dials on the surveillance equipment, "I was thinking about all those puzzles we've been looking at. They remind me a bit of my love life—complicated, frustrating, and often missing a few pieces."
I chuckled, grateful for the distraction. "Oh yeah? I thought your love life was more like a Rubik's Cube—colorful, perplexing, and usually unsolvable."
Jenkins laughed. "Touché, rookie. Touché. But honestly, I think I'd have better luck solving these murders if I could just get a date."
I smirked, playing along. "Well, maybe if you stopped using your detective skills to track down guys who ghosted you on dating apps, you'd have more time for puzzles."
Jenkins feigned a wounded look. "Hey, those guys are the real criminals! I mean, who ghosts someone after three dates and a heartfelt conversation about the best cheese for a grilled cheese sandwich?"
"That's a tough one," I replied, trying to keep a straight face. "You sure you're not scaring them off with your terrible jokes?"
"Probably," Jenkins admitted with a grin. "But I like to think it's my irresistible charm and rugged good looks."
As we bantered, my eyes caught movement on one of the monitors. "Hold up," I said, pointing to the screen. "We've got activity at the north entrance."
Harper's voice crackled over the radio. "Everyone, stay sharp. We've got movement. Be ready."
We watched as a figure moved cautiously toward the clock tower. They were dressed in dark clothing, a hood obscuring their face. The person paused at the entrance, looking around as if to make sure they weren't being watched, then slipped inside.
"Showtime," Jenkins said, his joking demeanor giving way to serious focus.
We quickly made our way to the north entrance, Harper and a few other officers joining us. We moved quietly, using hand signals to communicate as we approached the door. Harper motioned for us to fan out, covering all possible angles.
Inside, the clock tower was dimly lit, the massive gears and machinery casting eerie shadows on the walls. We moved in a tight formation, our footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust that coated the floor. The air was thick with anticipation, every creak and groan of the old building setting our nerves on edge.
We split up to cover more ground, Harper and I taking the left side while Jenkins and another officer moved to the right. As we navigated the maze of mechanical parts and winding staircases, I couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu, like we were characters in a particularly suspenseful episode of some TV show.
"Harper," I whispered, "you ever get the feeling we're in a horror movie?"
Harper shot me a look. "Keep your head in the game, Kan."
We continued our search, and soon, the sound of hushed voices reached our ears. We crept closer, careful not to make any noise. Peering around a corner, we saw the figure from the entrance standing in front of a large chalkboard, furiously writing something. From this angle, it was hard to make out what they were doing, but the intensity of their focus was unmistakable.
Harper motioned for me to stay back while he approached the figure. Just as he was about to call out, Jenkins' voice rang out from behind us.
"Hey, Kan," he whispered loudly, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, "why did the detective go to the gay bar?"
Harper shot him a warning glare, but I couldn't help but play along. "Why, Jenkins?"
"To investigate some leads, obviously!"
Despite the tension, I stifled a laugh, and even Harper's stern expression cracked a little. The figure at the chalkboard, startled by the noise, turned to face us. It was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with an intense look in his eyes.
"Who are you?" Harper demanded, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
The man's eyes darted around, panic setting in. "I… I'm just trying to solve the puzzle," he stammered. "I didn't mean any harm."
"Puzzle?" Jenkins echoed, stepping into the light. "You mean the Jigsaw Killer's puzzle?"
The man nodded frantically. "Yes! I've been following the case, trying to figure out the clues. I thought if I could solve it, I could help."
Harper eyed him skeptically. "And you decided to come here, alone, in the middle of the night?"
The man swallowed hard. "I thought I was onto something. The clock tower, the dates, the puzzles… it all seemed to fit."
"Well, you're lucky we found you first," Harper said, his tone softening slightly. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."
As we escorted the man out of the clock tower, Jenkins couldn't resist one last quip. "You know, Kan, this is probably the first time someone's come out at a clock tower."
I groaned, shaking my head. "You're incorrigible, Jenkins."
"That's why you love me," he shot back with a wink.
Back at the precinct, we debriefed Harper on what the man had told us. It turned out he was an amateur sleuth, obsessed with puzzles and crime stories. He'd been following the Jigsaw Case closely, piecing together his own theories.
"Well, he's lucky he didn't end up as the next victim," Harper said, rubbing his temples. "But he did give us some useful information. The clock tower wasn't just a random choice. There's something here we're missing."
"Maybe we should bring him in," I suggested. "He seems to have a knack for this kind of thing. And he's definitely got the time."
Harper sighed. "Fine. Bring him in. But keep an eye on him. We don't need any more civilians playing detective."
As we prepared to head back out, Jenkins turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, Kan, you think our amateur sleuth is single?"
I laughed. "Why? Thinking of asking him out?"
Jenkins shrugged. "Hey, I've dated worse. And besides, anyone who can solve a puzzle is worth a shot in my book."
"Just remember to keep it professional," I said, smirking. "We don't need another puzzle to solve."
"Don't worry, Kan. I'll keep it strictly business," Jenkins said, winking again. "But if he happens to appreciate a good joke, well, that's just a bonus."
With our new information and a fresh lead, we set out to uncover the next piece of the puzzle. And as we delved deeper into the case, I realized that, despite the danger and the darkness, there was something uniquely thrilling about it all. Maybe it was the camaraderie, the way we could find humor even in the most dire situations. Or maybe it was the challenge of the puzzle itself, the way each piece fit together in unexpected ways.
Whatever it was, I knew one thing for sure: with Jenkins by my side, there was never a dull moment. And as we chased the clues and cracked jokes, I couldn't help but feel that, in the end, we'd find our way through this twisted game—one laugh at a time.