Chapter 5 - The Glass Jar
"Keep your hands where I can see them, Nicholas!" Detective Miller barked, stepping forward carefully, her weapon locked onto his torso. "Don't move!"
Two uniformed officers rushed past her, their handcuffs rattling as they slammed Nicholas against the side of his Range Rover. Nicholas didn't resist. He allowed his arms to be pulled behind his back, the steel cuffs clicking tightly around his wrists.
"Detective," Nicholas said, his voice flat and perfectly calm as he turned his head to look at her. "You are scaring these people. Look at the children. You're making a terrible mistake."
"Am I?" Miller countered, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a small glass vial containing a trace residue of clear liquid—the exact same vial Nicholas had used in his kitchen three hours ago. "We searched your secondary residence in Oak Park an hour ago, Vance. We found the hidden cellar. We found the lab equipment. We found the aconite."
The mothers in the alley gasped, whispering frantically among themselves as they pulled their children further away.
Nicholas closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling a small, sharp prick of disappointment—not fear, but regret that his work was being interrupted before he could finish his mission. He had been careless with the Oak Park property; he had relied too heavily on his public saintliness to shield him from suspicion.
"You think you've caught a monster, don't you, Maya?" Nicholas murmured as the officers led him toward the back of a police cruiser.
"I caught a serial killer who targets the most vulnerable people in this city," Miller said coldly, her eyes flashing with disgust. "You poisoned six people in the last two months, Vance. Homeless men, sick women... people who trusted you."
Nicholas paused before stepping into the back seat of the cruiser. He turned his face toward Miller, his hazel eyes burning with a terrifying, serene intensity that made the veteran detective take a half-step back.
"I didn't murder them, Detective," Nicholas said softly, his voice carrying an icy, hypnotic weight. "I liberated them. I gave them peace in a world that offered them nothing but pain. Ask those children behind you if I'm a monster. Ask their mothers."
"Shut up and get in," the officer growled, shoving Nicholas into the leather back seat.
As the police car pulled out of the alley, its sirens wailing into the dark city night, Nicholas leaned his head back against the window. He watched the blue flashing lights dance across the dark buildings.
May you like
He didn't care about the handcuffs. He didn't care about the arrest. He knew something Detective Miller hadn't realized yet: inside the brown paper bag held by the young boy standing under the streetlight was a fresh, soft loaf of bread.
And the poison was already inside.
