Fox was tired.

Which wasn't much of a change from his usual state, but right now, he was a different sort of tired. The kind of exhaustion that came after chasing down half-assed statements from people around Coruscant and looking over evidence that seemed to mock him every time he looked at it.

This person, whoever they were, was smart. And Fox hated admitting that more than he hated not knowing who was behind all of it. All of it was horrific, crime scene photos that made his stomach turn every time he stared at them, willing something to stand out.

Dead leads, dead ends, dead citizens.

He'd thought about asking the Chancellor to issue a curfew ㅡ just until they had the means to tighten patrols. But he couldn't do that ㅡ it felt like admitting he didn't have this under control. But he couldn't just let more people die while his pride throttled the best options he had.

And then the killer had gotten sloppy. Or maybe thrown him a damned bone ㅡ there'd been a witness to the last murder. An anonymous call that he'd had tracked even before they made it to the scene, then pulled the surveillance for that district and particular space.

And he'd seen them. After that, it hadn't taken much to track down their residence, either. Which was where he was now, debating if he should remove his helmet or not before he approached. He decided to keep the helmet on.