Matty Davis had barely stepped out of the California Police Academy when the rumors started. He was just two years out of the academy, and here he was, standing before a group of rookie officers, proudly receiving a promotion to Detective. There were murmurs of admiration from the younger officers, especially one who gushed, “Just two years? Wow! That’s impressive!” But not everyone shared the same sentiment. Whispers behind closed doors suggested that Matty’s promotion wasn’t a result of his merit or hard work, but because of a little nepotism—his father-in-law, Chief of Police Albert Davis, had pulled some strings.

Matty didn’t let the gossip get to him. He was too busy to worry about what people thought. He had a job to do.

Still attached to the Marine Division, Matty had been assigned to investigate a string of armed robberies that had plagued the Northika township. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was important. He was partnered with Phil Collins, an officer with a sharp sense of humor and a knack for questioning authority. The two of them were a mismatched duo, but they made it work. Matty, with his shiny new badge and a few too many idealistic notions, and Phil, with his half-smirk and world-weary attitude.

After a successful takedown at a local motel, Matty felt a rare surge of accomplishment. He and Phil had cornered a group of suspects at a shabby roadside motel, just a few doors down from a convenient store where the latest robbery had taken place. The suspects were handcuffed, piled into a police car, and Matty couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. For once, the case was finally going somewhere.

But that sense of achievement was short-lived.

One of the suspects, a lanky figure known as Mike—or “Skinny M,” as his buddies called him—managed to slip his hands out of the cuffs and make a run for it. Before Matty and Phil could react, he was gone, vanishing into the night like a ghost.

“Are you serious?” Matty shouted, pounding the side of the police car. “How did that happen?”

Phil, more annoyed than concerned, shrugged. “You had to know he was slippery. Now, what do we do?”

Matty, ever the optimist, had a plan. “I’ll go after him. You take the suspects back to the station and start the paperwork.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “You sure about this? It’s dark, and chasing after a guy like Mike? He’s probably long gone by now.”

But Matty was stubborn. He didn’t want to waste any momentum, and the idea of letting a criminal slip away felt like a failure. “Just trust me. I’ll catch him.”

Phil wasn’t convinced, but with a resigned sigh, he agreed. “Don’t get yourself killed, rookie.”

Matty watched as the police car drove off into the distance. He was on his own now, and he was determined not to let Skinny M get away. But unbeknownst to him, Mike wasn’t heading back to the motel. Instead, the room where he’d been staying had been rented out to someone else by the time Matty arrived.

When Matty knocked on the door, a gruff voice from the other side said, “Who is it?”

“Police! Open up!” Matty shouted, flashing his badge. He was convinced that Mike was hiding inside.

There was a long pause before the voice answered, “I ain’t Mike. You sure you got the right room?”

Matty hesitated. The voice didn’t sound like Mike’s, but it could be a trick. “Open up now, or I’ll have to break the door down.”

“Go ahead,” the man on the other side said. “But you’ll regret it.”

The sound of a knife scraping against metal made Matty’s blood run cold. Still, he wasn’t going to back down now. He stepped back, surveying the window. It was a solid German-made metal door, and no matter how many times he knocked, he wasn’t getting in that way. So, Matty made a snap decision and slid the window open.

“Mike, come on! We don’t have to do this. You’re just making it worse for yourself!” Matty called through the window. But the man inside wasn’t interested in talking. A moment later, the knife came into view.

“Leave now, or I’ll make sure you don’t leave at all.”

But Matty wasn’t backing down. He shoved the window open, crawled inside, and landed on the floor of the room with a thud. The man, clearly startled, bolted for the bathroom. Matty chased after him, but the door to the bathroom slammed shut just as he reached it.

“Stay out of there!” the man shouted.

Matty didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his gun and fired a shot at the door’s bottom edge, hoping to disable the lock. But as soon as the shot rang out, he heard a sickening thud from inside. Silence followed.

Matty’s heart raced. “No… no, no, no!” he muttered under his breath. He pushed open the bathroom door, and what he saw made his stomach lurch.

The man inside wasn’t Mike. He wasn’t anyone Matty recognized, but he was dead. The bullet had hit him in the abdomen, and there was nothing Matty could do to save him now.

Matty stood frozen, his mind whirling. He had just killed an innocent man. His entire world came crashing down around him. His career, his family, everything he had worked for—it was all over. He couldn’t go back to the station now. He couldn’t explain what had happened. Not when he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Matty quickly composed himself. His hands were shaking, but he had to act fast. He couldn’t leave a body lying around. That would be even worse. He dragged the man’s lifeless body back into the room, locking the door behind him.

After an hour of careful thought, Matty came up with a plan. He needed to get rid of the body. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out what had happened. He ran to the nearby convenience store, buying a strange assortment of items—digging tools, a set of tiles, some adhesive, and a couple of hair dryers. He figured the more normal the items, the less suspicion he’d raise.

Back at the motel, Matty worked for hours, digging up the floor and carefully hiding the body under a fresh layer of plaster. He tiled the floor back together, using the hair dryers to speed up the drying process. It was meticulous work, but Matty didn’t have much choice. When he was finally done, he stood back and surveyed the room. The body was gone, the tiles were back in place, and no one would ever know.

Except Matty knew. The guilt weighed heavily on him, but there was no going back now. He quietly left the room, avoiding the motel manager who was fast asleep at the front desk, and made his way home to change his clothes.

The next morning, Matty returned to the station. His mind was racing, his body exhausted from the night’s work. As he entered the building, he was met by Phil, who was standing at the door with a smirk on his face.

“So, where’s Skinny M?” Phil asked, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Matty tried to steady his breathing. His throat felt dry, and his voice cracked when he answered. “I… I don’t know.”

Phil gave him a funny look. “You okay, Matty?”

“I’m fine,” Matty said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

Phil raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Well, you’ll be more than tired when you see this.” He handed Matty a file. “A case came in from upstate. Jack Goyers. Big name, big bounty. Five hundred grand on his head.”

Matty barely looked at the file. “I’m not in the mood for bounties right now, Phil.”

“Take a look anyway.”

Matty flipped the file open. And there, staring back at him, was a face he recognized. The same face as the man he had buried the night before. The same face of the man he had just killed.

The name on the file read: Jack Goyers.

Matty’s blood ran cold. His mind raced. The man he had murdered wasn’t some random suspect. He had just killed a notorious criminal—a man wanted for multiple armed robberies. A man who had a bounty on his head. A man who could have made him rich.

And Matty had buried him.

“Phil,” Matty said, his voice barely a whisper.  Phil didn’t seem to hear him. He was already walking away, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Matty’s mind. But Matty knew that he had just buried his fortune.