Detective Inspector Alec Hardy ran a hand over his face as he sat at his desk in front of a mountain of paperwork––all clues to the case, but none bringing him closer to finding the killer. It was past 9 pm and he was still stuck inside that damn office.

He was overwhelmed by the case of 11-year-old Danny Latimer. His heart went out to the family, but he felt immense pressure to get it right this time, especially after what happened at Sandbrook.

His heart lurched at the memory and he felt a sudden dizziness and unease as it all quickly became too much.

He had failed them.

He stood, suddenly feeling a panic attack coming on, triggered by his heart arrhythmia.

Searching for his beta-blockers, he fumbled around in his suit pocket only to realize with a fresh surge of panic that the blister pack was empty.

He stumbled forward and grabbed onto the edge of his desk, trying to control his breathing.

The room began to spin.

Not again, he thought. Please god, not again...