I put a warning at the beginning of the story that it features suicide - I'm going to repeat that warning for this specific chapter.


It was a familiar sight: the apartment complex was again crawling with forensics, while a couple of police officers tried to keep residents and other onlookers out of the way. This time the body was in the office, a separate building on the edge of the complex. Lucifer glanced over at Chloe as she parked the car. "How do you want to do this, detective?"

She gave a deep sigh. "I don't even know what we're looking for. How will I recognize him?"

"You won't," he answered grimly. "You need to leave him to me and Maze. Honestly, detective, this is one case that's out of your league."

Chloe unsnapped her seatbelt and swung the door open. "Well, whatever happens, we still have to follow protocol. Or I do, at least."

"Agreed." Lucifer climbed out of the car and joined her at the edge of the parking lot. She was talking to one of the officers outside the building.

"Lucifer, the victim's wife is in apartment 20," she said, turning to him. "The occupant there has taken her in. You're good with women, could you go talk to them, please? I'll talk to some of these people, see if any of them saw anything, and then liaise with the forensic team."

Lucifer nodded.

"And Lucifer? You do remember that doesn't mean sleeping with the women, right?"

He put on his best hurt look. "Detective, how could you? Of course I remember."

She flashed him one of her sudden smiles, and pressed a hand to his chest. "You've been very restrained lately," she agreed. "Now go and do your thing. And by thing I mean charm."

"Of course." He had missed her gentle touches. The way she would take his arm, or touch his chest. Any slight contact from her slender hands was worth more to him than an entire night with the women he used to hang out with.

He watched her head over to the crowd before turning on his own way. She spoke first to a young man, and Lucifer frowned, sure he knew him from somewhere. Then the man glanced his way and Lucifer spotted the black-rimmed glasses and brown hair. Of course, it was the maintenance guy. Chloe spoke to him briefly and then moved on to a pair of teenagers who were taking photos on their phones, and Lucifer left her to it.

Number 20 was close by, a well-furnished apartment where a beautiful young woman greeted him. Lucifer gave a sigh of regret; a few years ago he wouldn't have hesitated. A few months ago he would have thought for a couple of minutes before giving in to his urges. But now - with a glance over his shoulder at Chloe he regretfully focused on the job in hand. "I believe you have Mrs Kirtley here?"

She smiled and held the door wide. "I do," she said. "Come in, I could use a distraction. I'm Natalie."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Natalie." Lucifer smiled at her, trying to portray his thanks while holding back from charming her. Her expression suggested he didn't quite manage it. Eyeing her warily, Lucifer entered the apartment. A woman he assumed was Mrs Kirtley sat on the couch, her face a mask of despair. She dabbed occasionally at her eyes with a tissue. "Hello," he said, deciding "good morning" was probably a bad idea. "I'm Lucifer Morningstar, and I'm with the Police Department. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The woman looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes. "Why did he do it?" she wailed. "He's been working so hard, but I thought he was doing okay. And then to walk in on him like that… We were going out for lunch. I told him he needed a break, needed to get away from the place for an hour or so." Her shoulders shook. "Why didn't he tell me he was that desperate?"

Lucifer sat down next to her and took her hand. "These things are always hard," he said, trying to work out what Chloe would say and do. A thought struck him. "Have you seen him with a man with blond hair lately?"

She stared at him blankly. "Blond? I don't think so. One of his drinking buddies has light hair, but it's not really blond. You don't think he was badgering him for the poker money, do you?"

Lucifer sat and listened to the story of a man who hated his job and lived for his drinking sessions with his buddies, and wondered for the millionth time just why these humans had to play these games, insisted on doing a job they hated instead of chasing what they desired. But he was starting to understand them better, how the pressure from others forced them into situations they hated because they would rather put up with it than upset those they loved. He patted the woman's hand sympathetically.

"Lucifer, what are you doing?"

He jumped to his feet at Chloe's voice. She was standing glaring at him. He gestured to the grieving widow. "I was just taking a statement, detective, as you asked."

Chloe grabbed at his arm, pulled him away towards the kitchen. "You were all over her! I saw it!"

Lucifer stared at her, trying to figure out what was going on. Detective! You're mistaken!"

She turned from him, anger holding her shoulders stiff. "We have a job to do. We're not going to get it done while you're sitting there pawing at the witnesses. And as for the way you were looking at her…" She waved a hand towards Natalie, who was watching the two of them in fascination and possibly a touch of jealousy.

Lucifer's mouth fell open in astonishment. He pulled his arm away. "I'm doing what you asked me to," he said, doing his best to hold back the red that threatened to glow in his eyes with the flash of anger he felt.

"I've had enough," Chloe snapped. She marched towards the door, and Lucifer was about to step after her when his phone rang. By the time he had fished it out of his pocket, she had disappeared. He looked at the screen; it was Maze. He tapped the answer button, reaching the doorway and watching after Chloe, who was halfway across the courtyard to the office. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He could feel it.

"Lucifer? It's Maze. Listen. That man you sent me after? He's not the one we want. I traced him to a dead body in the morgue. He'd filled his pocket with stones and waded into the river."

"Maze, I don't really have time—"

"But I found him, Lucifer. I'm on my way to the apartment complex now. He's there."

Lucifer hung up, staring after Chloe. "I already worked that out," he said grimly to the air.


Chloe walked into the office where Kirtley had shot himself. The body had been photographed and was being taken away; blood still pooled on the floor and spattered the wall behind his desk. The still air reeked of blood and gunpowder. The folders that sat in a neat pile on the desk were splashed with red, and sheets of paper were scattered around the room.

What was the point? Chloe stared around the room, seeing the meaningless life this man had led. No family photos, no indication of any personal interest, in a gloomy office with worn furniture and a threadbare carpet.

It would all end in death anyway; what was the point in struggling on, when every day was a fight for survival, when every moment could bring more pain? Suddenly she saw her whole life stretching in front of her, and she felt it dragging her down, as though the world were swimming around her and she was struggling to keep her head above water with a concrete block strapped to her leg.

She took out her gun, stared at it. He had just sat in his chair, put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger and that was it. No more pain. No more uncertainty. Just peace.

A small voice spoke in her head: Heaven is real. Hell is real. And you still haven't figured them out yet. But this feeling of drowning spoke louder, and she slowly lifted her gun, still staring at it. The barrel looked like a tunnel. What would it be like to travel down that tunnel? To meet her fate coming the other way?

"Detective!"

Still she remained staring at the gun in her hand, and the world around her faded, until the tunnel ahead of her was all that remained, beckoning her, offering release from pain and suffering…

A hand gently touched her on the shoulder. "Chloe." He spoke softly this time, the devil on her shoulder. "This isn't you, Chloe. You don't want to do this."

"It's so easy," she said. "It would all be over."

"But it's not you. Remember the case?"

Slowly she tried to drag her attention away from the gun. Why wouldn't he leave her in peace?

"Detective! The demon? You've been speaking to him. He's made you feel this way. Please, Chloe, you have to listen to me. Think of Trixie. Think of me, dammit! You can't just leave us like this. Put the gun down."

She felt as though she were dreaming. She raised her eyes from the gun barrel, to see him peering at her in concern. Gingerly he put his hand over hers, twisted the gun away from them both and took it away from her. He dropped it on the desk and then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, and suddenly the wave broke over her head and she could breathe again, safe in his arms. She sobbed into his jacket, and he patted her on the back and stroked her hair and held her until she could control her emotions again.


Thanks for reading along. Your comments are always welcomed.