Slow your roll there, dick. You can't just "remove" this cardboard without acquiring a permit to search wherever this cardboard might lead.
This is an ongoing investigation, and you'll jeopardize this case if you're too hands-on.
This case was a shit show from the beginning.
You remember that night when the exit entered your office; You never believed in love at first sight, but there she was -- your ticket out of this mundane detective's life. Her perfume wafted through out the damp, cold interior of your office, and into that ice berg you called a heart.
"Let's get out of this dump," She said, her hushed tones tickling your ears.
It was an exciting proposition, but you had responsibilities -- unfinished business to attend to. You should have left that night, maybe if you had, some smug son-of-a-bitch wouldn't have... well... nothing you can do now but get justice for the dame.
I say you tear into this "cardboard" fellow. Demand he tell you what happened to the exit.
Be the bad cop you always knew you were, but too afraid to let out.
You hated to see her like this -- smothered by the broken, bleeding piece of garbage you hold in your right hand.
Except this wasn't her -- this wasn't your girl. You knew she was long dead, still, it was almost biblical -- the sight of the blinding lights ahead.
It was just like her, offering you a way out; This time you're sure as hell going to take it.