Jimenitz sat in the security room, watching Luther's ever move on a TV connected to the cameras in his cell. He had been tirelessly observing his insane prisoners.

   Dale Irving, who had watched for a while but had bored of it quickly, was sitting on a chair beside his chief, absorbed by something on his iphone.

  Suddenly Jimenitz nudged him. "Look, Dale."

  Dale's eyes slowly moved up toward the screen. His mind was on the text he was typing out on his phone. Then it clattered to the floor as he stared at Luther.

  "He's gone into an insane rage!" he exclaimed.

  Luther was stomping around his cell, kicking at the few pieces of furniture and yelling angry, incoherent words.

  Dale gaped at him, while Jimenitz watched thoughtfully.

  "Did it ever occur to you, Dale, that this might be a trick?"

  "No," Dale replied, staring at the screen.

  "But Knight is the best psychiatrist I know," Jimenitz mused.

  "His diagnosis was correct," came a voice from behind them.

  Jimenitz did not turn his head. "And how do you know that, Cavan?"

  Dale moved to Jimenitz's other side, farther away from the newcomer, whose presence always made him nervous.

  "Some people just know," said Chance Cavan as he silently moved to the position that Irving had just vacated. "His diagnosis was right...to him...."  he trailed off into mysterious silence.

  "Oh?" Jimenitz asked. "You think that the psychiatrist is wrong?"

 Chance remained quiet. He turned to look at Jimenitz, who looked away, saying,

 "Don't start, Chance. I know what you want to do."

 Chance smiled queerly. "You're not afraid, are you?"

 Jimenitz did not move. "Go, Chance."

 Without another word, Chacne stood and left the room.

 "That guy gives me the creeps," Dale said when Cavan had left the room.

 "Just don't tell him," Jimenitz warned.

 Chance heard him as he stood outside the door. Grinning, he walked away, flipping out his cellphone as he did so, and, dialing a number, he put the phone to his ear. "Jess?"

  A female's voice entered his ear. "Yes, Chance?"

 "Tell the boss that i'm getting the job done," Chance informed her. "I should be done soon if all goes well."

 "Great! Call me when you are done."

 "Got it. Bye." Chance tucked his phone away, unaware of the eyes that watched his every move and heard his every word.

 

  Chase sat in a far corner of the room under the oak, silently watching Jason.

  Jason sat across from him, his legs stretched out in from of him. His fists were clenched as he trembled with inner rage.

  "Jason, what's the matter?" Chase timidly ventured to ask.

  "That man.."Jason gritted his teeth angrily.."that man killed my father, my mother, and one of my sisters. He took my other sister. I have been seeking to carry out revenge on him for years! I found him, he was standing so close, but I let him escape!"

  "Jason, I think I can understand your grief," Chase said  softly." But revenge is not the answer. My mother read a book once, and one of the phrases in it was somehting like, 'Revenge is not yours to take.' "

 "But how do you know how I feel?" Jason replied in a hard tone.

 "I know because my family members are either dead or missing," Chase quietly explained. "I had parents, an older brother, and a younger sister. My parents were killed in a deliberately set fire, my brother disappeared right afterwards, and my sister fell out of a tree she was climbing and broke her neck. She was helpless, and there was no one to help her, as she was in the middle of the woods. Some cruel men found her and killed her. As far as I know, I'm the only one left." He looked at Jason.

  Jason was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, as if he was asleep.

  Chase sighed as he pulled his knees up to his chin and stared at the fire crackling and hissing in the middle of the small chamber.

 

  After watching Luther for several hours, Jimenitz eyes were aching badly, so he went to the break room for a rest.

  As he leisurely drank a cup of coffee on his favorite recliner, Isaiah Fay entered the room.

 Jimenitz half-smiled as Fay quietly talked to him. "So I was right."

 Fay nodded. "What do I do now, Chief?"

 "Keep doing what you have been doing, and remember to act normal." Jimenitz waved his hand, dismissing the officer.

 "Yes, Chief," Fay replied as he left the room.

 A few mintues later, Chance Cavan sauntered in. He settled onto a couch after grabbing some food.

 Without turning to look at him, Jimenitz casually inquired, "So, where do you come from, Chance?"

 "Why do you need to know?" came the cool response. "I came here to work, not to be asked personal questions."

 "There are some thnigs you need to learn first, like answering to authority." Jimenitz settled deeper into his chair.

 "I have two things to say to that," Chance said as he toyed with his soda bottle. "The first thing is that you asked the question. You did not order me to tell you where I came from. The second thing is that no man is my boss."

 Jimenitz glanced over at him, immediately looking away when he saw the dangerous glint in Cavan's eyes.

 "I was just curious," he answered.

 "Curiousity killed the cat," Chance said. "But satisfaction brought it back."

 Jimenitz raised an eyebrow as he stood and stretched. "That rhyme is silly and untrue."

 Chance narrowed his eyes, watching the police chief carefully as he left the room.