The burgundy room was shaded not by darkness, but rather, by dread. Garrett had noticed this as he proceeded down the lengthy corridor. The smug confidence which had filled him as he patted the recorded message nestled deep within his knapsack, was replaced by an all-encompassing urgency to flee that despicable mansion. Before, the thief couldn't wait to see the look on that vexatious sheriff's face. Now, he shuddered to even think of it.

For Sheriff Truart's face, was now eternally locked within the cold and torturous visage of death.

He recalled how one of the bluecoats had commented on that 'thing'-and how she had found it ripping the sheriff to pieces. Whatever had killed Sheriff Gorman Truart, Garrett was positive about at least two things:

It wasn't him-and it definitely wasn't human.

With the agility and speed that only a man in dire straights could ever hope to possess, Garrett leapt through the window, and landed with a slightly painful thud upon the balcony below. Ignoring the burning of his slightly twisted ankle, the thief sped off into the night.

******************************************************

Sophie, was horrified, to say the least.

She brushed a long strand of wavy brunette over her shoulder, listening as Garrett conveyed the details of his heist earlier that evening. He was sprawled across her couch, elevating his now swollen ankle with a couple of tasseled throw pillows.

It was funny; Garrett had always likened the décor in Sophie's safe house to that of a brothel, or at least a dormitory for those rich little girls who attended finishing school. Why the boxman's sister had such a decadent and downright gaudy taste in design-let alone where she had come across any of this taffing junk-was beyond him. Some of the decorations and furnishings looked almost tempting enough to steal, if Garrett's keen eye hadn't already discovered them to be nothing more than clever knock-offs.

"See? This is why a thief should do, well, thiefy stuff-and why you should leave the blackmailing and bribery to someone who knows what she's doing." Sophie winked, although the rest of her face painted a far from jovial reaction to the evening's fiasco.

There was no denying that Garrett could have been captured and blamed completely for the murder; and such a thought made her skin crawl.

The thief was still silent atop her couch, as if completely unaware and deaf to her constant berating. Garrett just kept staring at the voice recording, now sitting atop Sophie's coffee table.

There were sinister forces at work in The City these days, and one of those forces still had it out for him. Garrett had hoped to extract a name from that miserable sheriff by the end of the night; something that would have put so much to rest in his mind. The thief wasn't particularly unnerved by the notion of being hunted or threatened. It had happened before plenty of times in the past, and Garrett was sure that this would be far from the last incident. What bothered him so, was being unable to put a name or a face to his pursuer.

If he knew just who it was who wanted him eliminated, then it would be so much easier to avoid incidents-or even figure out a way to halt them completely. But now, thanks to whatever the hell that 'thing' actually was, the trail had gone cold.

He must have been quite distracted there on the couch, because he didn't even notice Sophie go into the kitchen. Garrett's mind was only pulled back to reality when she returned and cleared her throat loudly. He gave her a bored glance, his dark eyes heavy with sleep. But his nerves were far too jarred, and his mind too attentive to the dangers he faced to allow slumber to take him just yet. In her hand, was a fresh cup of tea. Sophie offered it to Garrett.

"Here, it's chamomile. It will help you sleep." She cooed.
"I don't need to sleep right now Sophie!" Garrett snapped, denying her hospitality outright. "What I need to do, is figure out who the taff's trying to kill me!"

Sophie gave him a bothered frown, and begrudgingly set the teacup down atop the coffee table. Then she slid into the armchair beside it, smoothing the skirt of her dress.

"Well..." She stressed the word, making her scornful disapproval obvious. "What do you wanna do?"
"That Karras guy..." Garrett began, staring out the safe house window at the ruddy bricks of a neighboring building. There was a faded poster of some sort, still clinging lifelessly to the worn masonry, though it was impossible to read from this distance. "He was the one who made that recording. From what I gathered, I think it was an insurance policy, for some sort of shady business deal they had going-or something like that..." The thief rubbed his forehead.

His headache was getting worse.

"Garrett. I'll handle it, alright?" Sophie pushed the teacup closer to him. Garrett shot her an annoyed look, and pushed it right back.
"You? Why you?"
"Because, as I mentioned before, I know how to work the channels. I'm not just the pretty face who holds down the safe house ya know. Or, did you already forget that?" She chided.
"No, I just don't care," Garrett snorted. "This is my problem Sophie. I don't need any help."
"Well that suits me just fine," the feisty brunette crossed her arms with a smirk, "because I ain't askin' ya. I'm telling you what's going to happen here."
Garrett forced himself upright, and stared pensively at her through disbelieving bi-colored eyes.
"Sophie?"
"The Black Alley Angel has her some pretty nice connections, Garrett. I can find out the day-to-day activities of just about anybody, via my little network of friends. This is especially true for folks who make a living patrolling around town. Makes it easier for us. Very little infiltration."
"Patrolling around town? Like, the watch? I don't get why-"
"-Not the watch," Sophie interrupted, "Well, not specifically. Lieutenant Mosely. She's our brod."
Garrett's eyes narrowed.
"Mosely..."

Of course! It made too much sense! Lieutenant Mosely was one of Truart's two top-level goons. The position of sheriff came with a great deal of tempting benefits-many of which the thief had already seen or stolen earlier that evening. Earlier that season, someone had paid Garrett to frame her partner, Lieutenant Hagen. With Hagen out of the picture, the position of sheriff would fall right into her lap. Just so long as she could make the current sheriff disappear...

"I'll send word to my inside guy. He's an unscrupulous old bluecoat who's had a personal vendetta against the watch for years. I'll ask him to provide me with her daily schedule, in exchange for a bit of coin." The boxman's sister explained. Garrett slowly nodded, now completely exhausted.
"Well, what the hell..." he sighed, "it's the only lead I've got now..."
"No doubt. Given the details of the murder and that creature you heard about, Lieutenant Mosely may not have been the one who killed the sheriff directly, but she's a pretty damn good lead. We start following her, and we might just find out who wants to kill you."