Business continues as normal, I suppose. I get into the office at the same time as I always have. Jess still spends most of her time in the field, so as to avoid the stony silence she receives back at the office. The routine is the same, but it all feels different. Tense. As if the world as we know it is balanced on a razor blade.
Maybe it's because Detective Morrow has been confined to a desk. Sitting in silent comprehension, occasionally typing. For such a legend with the force, it's unnatural to see him so, leashed. His forceful personality was gone, and he had become very introspective. For a man with such a passion for getting out in the field and helping people, this probation was taking its toll. He's been refusing to step a foot inside my office as of late, determined to push past this without help. Typical, I suppose: he understands the relevance of what I do, yet his sense of personal pride has been deteriorated to the extent that he feels he must go through this alone. I am, respecting his wishes, as a friend. Even so, his presence around the precinct is somehow uncomfortable.
It could be that which is setting me on edge. Or it could be that damn reporter...Freelance Franklin. (It's so corny, but that's what goes in the tagline.) He's published an article. "Something Awful Lurks: Internet Horror Connected to Student Murders". Thankfully, he thinks he's a bigger shot than he actually is: the article was relegated to page six of the paper. Maybe an eighth of a page long. Even so, seeing "The Slender Man" in print was a disconcerting experience. Lance has been snooping around Theo's house lately, too. We've had an officer turn him away from the front door as a 'security threat'. To which he grew quite agitated, declaring this to be a 'fucking imperialistic new world order coverup', government conspiracy, First Amendment, Slendergate, yadda yadda yadda. The officer had a huge grin on his face when he returned to the precinct. Everyone loves a good old dose of crazy in their lives. That said, this guy is smart and persistent, despite his quirks. I've got a bad feeling about him.
Rachel Aspen's been coming into the precinct a lot lately, too. Always with her pseudo-intellectual babble. (maybe not the best word, she is indeed, very smart, but her high and mighty way of delivering her information indicates a clear superiority complex, perhaps drawn from self-image issues or a lack of self-worth in her adolescence.) She's taken a particular dislike to me, possibly because she sees a psychological outlook on this case as a threat to the more typical forensic sciences. Pride in one's field is...natural, however her pride seems to be taking on a competitive edge. Her clearance of the notebook pages are painfully slow, and I am beginning to suspect that she is taking a certain amount of pleasure in delaying them from passing through my hands.
That said, it might just be me being paranoid; spurred by this odd feeling of tension which has been floating around lately. I'd probably tell myself it was, if I were a patient of mine.
I guess I can't know for sure.