《Autopsy of a Mind》


 Chapter 1: Evie Marie Lewis

    Chapter 1: Evie Marie Lewis

    Pain is world-annihting. In a moment of anticipation and the echo of grotesque, otherworldly sounds in a room that should be perfectly gentrified, you be prey to it. I have felt it push me to the brink of death and catapult me back to the base of my very existence. It evoked in me a monster...the very essence of my being. It injected in me the violent need to surviveeven if it meant that I had to eat the flesh of simrly tortured beings even if it meant I had to gorge on the flesh of an innocent creature whose sentience had yet to grow pronounced. Pain instilled in me Reason. There is only one: You only have hope when you survive.

    Pain also produces the vision of reality; it gave me an idea of how to search for meaning beyond what was already assigned to me through predestination. It also taught me that pain was only felt by whose bodies were inflicted by it, never by those who looked on. It taught me that empathy was a myth. Pain shuns the outside worldit is unexinable innguage and only expressible in pre-linguisticmunicationthrough sound.

    In my journey of trying to find a suitable representation of pain I have learned variousnguages and looked at various forms of pain inflicted on unsuspecting victims in real-life. I have tried to find the reason for the infliction of such inhumanity, but never truly understood the pain of those that I was looking at. I was never able to understand or empathize with the pain of others because I only felt what it had done to me.

    My pain.

    Not anyone else''s.

    And therefore, my journey continues.

    Today, though, I have taken it upon myself to give you a taste of who I amwhat my pains are (even if I do not expect you to know why I am), but first I will start with my primary identifiersthe identifications I had been given on birth.

    Sex-Female

    Name- Evie Marie Lewis

    Both of these, I had no control over. Neither did I have control over who my parents were, the color of my eyes, the way I looked, or my religion. Hence, even though I have provided you with this information, I would beg you to look beyond it and remember me through my actions and the choices I made and the circumstances I was inthey might be psychologically and sociologically stimted, but they were still not choices that were made for me before I had the right to choose for myself.

    Let''s start over, shall we?

    Hello. I am Evie Marie Lewis. Female. And this is how I came to exist.

    -.-.-.-.-

    I grew up in a big city, in a loving family. I had no trauma to speak of, just unconditional love provided to me by my parents and grandparents. My mother was a blessing to mankind, selfless and hopelessly in love with my father. She was also a high school biology teacher who believed in positively influencing students and encouraging creativity and curiosity in their work. But what I remember most about her is how proud she was of my father and me, for wanting to protect society atrge.

    Yes, I was an idealist as a child, and I me it on my father.

    My father was almost the opposite of my mother. He was cold and calcting and he looked at nothing but facts and statistics, something that helped him as a detective. The contrast between the couple was soic that almost no one believed that they would end up together in the long run.

    At home, they never mentioned their jobs. They fought, but only behind closed doors and always went to bed after resolving their problems. Best of all, they showered me with books and sources of knowledge that they hoped would help me shape myselfto understand what my calling was. I found that I liked solving puzzles and helping my father with cases.

    By the time I was fourteen my father proudly introduced me as a future co-worker of his and taught me how to protect myself.

    That day, we were celebrating my grandfather''s sixty-seventh birthday. My father seemed oddly out of the conversations taking ce and my mother was equally distressed about something. Chalking it up to an argument, I found myself joking with the grandparents and helping prepare dinner.

    Something unusual happened that day, and now that I reflect on it, I realize how seriously my mother must have been affected by that news to discuss dad''s work affairs at home and in such a loud voice.

    "Charlie, she threatened to kill your family if you didn''t stop looking for her," I heard my mother''s angry voiceing from my parent''s room. It made me stagger. It wasn''t unusual for Dad to get threats, but mom''s reaction was what had stunned me. She always encouraged my father to pursue cases, yet there she was, infuriated that he wasn''t stopping.

    "Luna... I can''t. I know I can protect you!" I smiled as I moved away from the spot.

    They would figure out their problems, I assured myself and went back to whatever I was doing, I don''t exactly remember what.

    I had never feared that someone would harm us because we had Dad. Who would dare to stake their life to harm one of Charlie Lewis''s loved ones? I went to sleep feeling safe and sound every night of those sixteen years.

    That night I woke up feeling the need to relieve myself.

    The thing about older houses is that... it settles. As a child, I had believed that little noises were caused due to paranormal entities, but as I grew older and morefortable with my home, I realized that a small step on a loose spot could produce a sound from another part of the room. Sometimes vibrations from another room could make it sound like the door was rattling. Therefore, despite my upbringing, I almost always ignored the light sounds emanating from the house.

    I couldn''t tell the difference between the groans of the foundation of the house and the infrequent padding of footsteps and creaking of doors. Maybe, I was sleepy... maybe I was toofortable with the identity of my parents and the security that nothing bad could ever happen to me. I was stupid enough to ignore statistical figures showing the number of crimes taking ce on a regr basis.

    Knowing my father as a light sleeper, I had always found a way to make the least bit of noise as I moved. As I locked the bathroom door behind me, I felt my heart start to pound. There was nothing amiss in the situation, just a sudden bout of adrenaline rushing through my veins for no particr reason.

    The curious thing about human understanding of situations is very simr to Wordsworth poetic theory"emotion recollected in tranquillity". As I closed my eyes to relieve myself, I remembered the moment my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. I had looked down to the first floor momentarily before rushing to the washroom, but I had seen a solitary figure on the corner of the stair. The stillness was almost mechanic and in the darkness, indistinguishable from the architecture.

    Breath heaving and eyes gaping at nothing, I sat there for a long time.

    ''As a rational human being one who is trained to defend themselves, what should I have done at that moment,'' I wondered.

    Unable to answer that question, I just sat there, trying to gauge the amount of time it would take the dark figure to make their way up the stairs without making a noise. I tried to figure out what their motive would be because for the life of me I could not imagine a robber trying to break into one of Chicago''s top detectives'' home.

    "Charlie, she threatened to kill your family if you didn''t stop looking for her," it reyed in my head over and over again. She was going to kill us.

    I stared at the locked door and wondered how long it would take her toe to me.

    My grandparents never locked their door and it was right in front of where the staircase met the hallway. She would probably go into that room first.

    They were deep sleepers. They would not wake-

    *thud*

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 2: Survive

    Chapter 2: Survive

    [WARNING: This chapter contains brutal scenes of murder and abusivenguage. Please read at your own risk.]

    I sped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

    ''Someone is dead.''

    ''Daddy... daddy... help.''

    ''I... I have to get up.''

    I slid down to the floor and crawled to the door, unable to be on my feet.

    ''If I open this door... I wil-''

    *thud*

    ''I can''t open the door.''

    ''I can''t die.''

    I pressed my ear against the door and waited for more sounds.

    ''Dad must be awake, right?''

    My fingers tried to grasp the knob.

    ''Phone.''

    ''Call 911.''

    I stopped myself from doing anything.

    ''He''s awake... his footsteps. I know his footsteps.''

    "You little bitch!" she heard a female voice. "I told you to fucking stop and you dared toe after me!" I shrunk back in fear. Of course, I heard the slight creaking of the wood in the hallways, as if someone was shifting from one foot to another, trying to find a suitable position to stand in.

    "I''ve already called the police. They are on their way," Dad''s voice was firm. "You can''t kill me."

    "Charlie, stop it!" I heard my mom groan.

    ''Pain? Was she in pain?''

    The scenario shed in front of my eye... Dad was trying to control and calm her. He must have had his hands raised in front of his body, an image of surrender, yet it was also to calm the perpetrator. The situation and the words that he was saying reminded me of a conversation I had with him years ago, sitting on the patio after he had returned from the police station.

    ''Remember what dad said, Evie.''

    "It is necessary to gauge the mental situation of the person you are handling. If you must make a deal with someone who is posing a threat to you, then it should be with the person who has lost connection with reality. Under no circumstance should you engage in a deal with a criminal holding someone hostage. It will always end badly."

    Hostage.

    ''She has Mom hostage.''

    "Alice, you need to calm down and listen to me."

    "I am calm you little shit. I hate that you act all high and mighty, thinking you can find me. You think I am taking your wife hostage?" Sheughed.

    *thud*

    A softer one. Just the sound of a body gently falling over.

    ''I have to go out...''

    Dad was wrong. He hadn''t understood the killer like he thought he did. Alice was something else. I remember opening the door and witnessing her lunging at my dad.

    That time, I screamed. I hoped the neighbors would wake up. I hoped the police woulde.

    My grandparents were nowhere in sight, yet I was pretty sure that she had thrown them around somewhere. Momy on the floor, the source of all the blood on the floor unknown.

    I mustered up the little strength that I had left in my leg and sprinted back into the bathroom and locked behind me.

    "Your daughter looks delicious, Detective Lewis." Her punctured breathing gutted me. It was as if she was using great force at even intervals.

    Knife.

    "I''m going to eat her aspensation, you little bitch... thinking you can take me on." I heard her kicking someone... Dad?

    How could she have overtaken my father who was a six-foot-three-inch man with muscture not for show? Even if there was a little chance that I could have saved my whole family by unlocking that door and helping them take down that rabid killermy humanity... my evil nature stopped me from helping.

    In that situation, even though my body ached to do something, to engage in some kind of action, my mindpelled it to stall, to keep me down on the ground. It had calcted the chances of survival and my chances were bleak.

    One: I could unlock the door and try to help my father. The resulting would be that despite trying my best, there was a ny percent chance that the killer would shred my body to ribbons.

    Two: I could keep myself locked up inside the room and hope that the police arrived before the rabid killer found her way inside and shred my body to ribbons. In this scenario, I had a forty percent chance of survival.

    Even though my chances were small, and there was little to no doubt that my father had not had the time to call 911 in either his confidence or the abrupt nature of the situation, I chose the second option.

    ''Survive.''

    I curled into myself and leaned against the door, hoping that it couldn''t be broken down.

    The kicking continued for quite some time, mingling with theck of response and the curses spewed by the evil woman, I was sure that I was the sole survivor of this horror show. When it ended, I felt a rush of hope: maybe... I would be spared. I had not seen her face, maybe there was a chance to survive?

    The dash of hope extinguished as rapidly as it had ignited in my heart. I heard the lights go on in the hallway; the glow of it entered the bathroom from the crack under the door.

    In a moment of perversity, I imagined peering out from the crack to see if there was a chance that I could escape. Yet, the image of ck eyes looking right back at me froze me to my core. I crawled away from the door, knowing that there was no use. I couldn''t hide. Yet, I could lengthen the time I had to survive, even if it was by a few seconds.

    ''Daddy can''t save me now...''

    "Are you still leaning against that door, pretty girl?" she giggled right outside. "Should I stab your ass from under the door?" she pped, delighted by the plot that she was forming in her head. "What a delightful picture!"

    The door rattled. As the seconds passed the rattling gave way to violent shaking.

    I screamed. Theughter from outside followed.

    ''She... enjoys... my fear.''

    But I didn''t stop. I couldn''t.

    Something in me broke in that moment. The desperation to safeguard my body had resulted in a crushing sense of guilt. I hadmitted the crime of forsaking my family, in exchange for what? Death.

    When the door came down, my consciousness went with it. I had finally been freed of my humanity; the fear I felt that day stripped away every value that my parents had inculcated in me. I was reduced to a subhuman being, incapable of making ethical judgments.

    I was sixteen when I was kidnapped by Alicia Williams, nicknamed Elegant Butcher by the FBI.

    I was found seven monthster, trying to escape her dungeon with three other survivors, skin sliced up, taut over my bones, malnourished and unable tomunicate.

    Alicia Williams was caught. Out of the four survivors, only two managed to recover despite the odds and survive.

    I was one of them.

    I took the GED. I graduated from college. Entered University.

    I am alive.

    The story of my captivity is for another day.

    Then... shall I ask you? Who do you think I am?

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 3: Jumping Off

    Chapter 3: Jumping Off

    The first time I understood how difficult it was tomunicate was when I heard the story of the Tower of Babel.

    Mankind united to build a tower tall enough to reach the heavens, to be closer to God. Infuriated by the ''greed'' of humans, God destroyed the tower and cursed the humans to be incapable of understanding one another. Therein originated the variousnguages we see today. Even though I was born a Catholic, my parents brought me up to be an atheist. Therefore, these Biblical stories were treated as fictional in our home, much like any other fairytale that my grandparents told me on date nights. When I grew older and was attending college, I was bbergasted by how, without realizing it, some person in ancient times had theorized that it was impossible to express meaning throughnguage. The meaning of a word was ever changing and only understood because it was not something else. More curious is that meaning is eternally deferredpick up a dictionary and find the meaning of a word. Then find the meaning of the word associated with it, and keep going until you find the meaning of the n-th word without referring to another word. Therefore, we are incapable ofmunicating meaning directly and understanding one anotherys great emphasis on personal perception or understanding of the situation.

    This fascination with the inability tomunicate drove me to major in foreignnguages. I wanted tomunicate with more people to understand their culture, their perception of a certain situation so that I could finally understand what I was feeling, what anyone else was feeling at the moment without having to distort the meaning of the emotions by my personal bias. An impossible task, as I havee to understand. Yet, this drive helped me lessen the burden of guilt I bore; it made me feel more alive than I had when I had been found by the police after six months of living in hell.

    .-.-.-.-.

    It was one of those mornings where everything seemed to be perfectly normal, but then you would go to the balcony to stretch and hear the police sirens on the street below. It so happened that the woman on the neighboring balcony had thought it convenient to attempt suicide at eight thirty in the morning.

    It was bad enough that it was a weekday and people were rushing to the office and cursing the traffic, and now one entitled woman just ruined their schedule and thought that screaming about how unfair her life was would bring sympathy from those on the street below.

    I leaned against the metal railing and took a good look at her face.

    I lived in a considerably expensive apartment with a fabulous security detail and the neighborhood was inviting and filled with familiar faces. This woman, though, I had never seen. Of course, I knew that my next door neighbor was a woman in herte twenties who often had her boyfriend over and didn''t like to leave her apartment unless her boyfriend invited her out. I would also hear the sounds of them fornicatingte at night when I came out to the balcony to get some fresh air.

    "Excuse me," I tried calling her. She turned to me, with a look of horror on her face. She was carefully bnced on the ledge protruding beyond the railing, and Imended her on her catlike bncing trick.

    "Move back or I will jump!" she threatened, her voice shaking.

    "Actually, do you have any honey at your ce? I need some for the smoothie and I knew that I wouldn''t find you if I knocked on your front door," Iughed slightly, pretending to be nervous.

    "Are you insane?" she screeched.

    Good god, woman. I can hear you perfectly fine without you scratching my eardrums!

    "I would like to ask you the same," I told her, offended. "Why are you trying to jump off?" I scoffed. We were on the fourth floor.

    "Shut up!"

    ''Be a good human being. Be a good human being. Be a good human being.''

    "Okay, go ahead." I shrugged. "I''ll have to disappoint you, though." I paused for a bit, reading her expression. She seemed panicked and grasping at straws.

    Clearly, she wasn''t sure that she would kill herself. She wouldn''t be making a spectacle if she was.

    "If you jump from here, there is a fifty-fifty chance of survival. You would probably fall lower body first and break your limbs and spinal cord, and your face would be crushed. If you die, it will be an unremarkable, messy death with your brain sttered on the sidewalk, if you survive, it would mean surgery, rehabilitation, stic surgery, and a trip to the psychiatric wardyou would lose money and your beauty." I spoke matter-of-factly, knowing that she loved her appearance too much.

    I could almostugh! The designer sleepwear she was wearing could feed me for a couple of months. And no one wakes up from sleep with a full face of makeup, contouring, fake-eyshes and all.

    "Fifty-fifty?" she squeaked.

    "If you really want to jump, then do. If you are conflicted, we could toss a coin and leave the rest to fate," I suggested. She gulped, wanting to deny, but her pride stopped her. She nodded slightly, her eyes zing over with unshed tear.

    "Wait for a bit, then. I''lle over and help you toss that coin." I tried to suppress the huge grin but failed miserably.

    I must have looked terrifying to her at that moment.

    I gripped the railing in one hand and the wall of the building with the other and jerked my body upward so that I could stand on the railing, perfectly bnced. The drop was quite a bit and the gap between the two balconies about two feet. Letting my hands go, I prepared to fling my body forward. From under me, I heard desperate calls for help and questions about my sanity.

    I chuckled as I lunged forward and ended on the railing of my neighbor''s balcony. Even the girl bnced on the ledge seemed to gasp at the event. I shrugged and hopped down to the floor.

    I fished my pocket for a coin and found one that was perfectly eptable.

    "Here," I announced, holding the coin up. "Heads says death and Tails says life? What say you?" She nodded jerkily, dazed.

    "Look carefully at the coin as I flip it," I instructed her gently. "Don''t take your eyes off it." I closed the distance between us.

    "One."

    "Two."

    "Three."

    I flipped the coin. As her eyes followed the coin closely, I saw it widen. It went past her head and started dropping to the street below.

    A low scream escaped her and I grabbed onto her torso firmly and pulled her over the railing and into the balcony with the force of my full body.

    "Why did he cheat on me?" she wailed.

    ''I did not sign up for this.''

    I wiped the dust off my hands and got up on my feet.

    ''Wow. She needs to clean.''

    I dragged her by the hand to the front door and opened it. I could hear the sounds of rushing footstepsing up the stairs and knew that the emergency responders were finally taking action. I let them in and let myself out.

    I sighed as I remembered that I had locked myself out.

    "Guys?" I asked, exasperated. They turned to look at me. "I locked myself out. Breaking down the door would be too much of a hassle, so I will just go out through the balcony, okay?" Not giving them much time to protest, I walked back to the balcony and helped myself into my apartment.

    ''Dammit. I am going to bete for ss.''

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 4: No Sympathy

    Chapter 4: No Sympathy

    The thing about living alone is that you think you have the freedom toe and go as you please, but like every other person on the, the institutions you bound yourself in keeps you restrained and trained to follow a certain norm. The same applied to me as wellwhen I was not studying for my sses, I could be busy taking up frence work of tranting academic articles and attending conferences to help with spontaneous trantions. It all began during my second year of college when an international student from the engineering department couldn''t keep up with her sses because of how difficult it was for her to interpret technical terms during ss. She approached me as one of her friends was from my department, knowing I spoke hernguage fluently. I started tranting her lectures for her and her appreciation meant that more people approached me with such tasks. Eventually, some of the professors and research schrs asked me to trante academic research papers and conference lectures.

    Lack of sleep was never an issue for me, so I always had time to take on more work without having to think about burning myself out or getting sick. Therefore, despite being an orphan, I didn''t need help from distant rtives to pay for tuition or live in hardship. I suppose, hardships can help us survive in the long run, even though it might not be in the way that we had thought of before.

    "Evie!" I heard the Head of the Department call. "Professor Singh from the Department of Criminology asked me if you were free during Thanksgiving."

    "I think so, but it depends on what kind of help is needed." I really wanted to get out of town and rent a cabin somewhere to rest.

    "Yes, he has to present at a conference in Seoul. The organizers didn''t mention an interpreter and the primarynguage ofmunication is not English. He asked me if you could apany him to the conference so that he would be morefortable."

    After questioning her further, I realized that I would be missing out on quite a few days of ss if I were to take up the assignment.

    "Professor, it will be difficult to book me in the same hotel that the organizers booked for Professor Singh. Commuting would be difficult and I would miss out on a few days of sses, too. I am not sure if I want to take on the task." I paused for a bit, trying to act apprehensive. "It would be wonderful if you could discuss my problems with me and let me know what he thinks. Also, I could help him find another interpreter if he wants."

    It might seem shameless to hint at such demands, but I had earned it through years of hard work. I had a reputation ofpleting every job assigned to me impably and on time, and I was sought after because of it. Days spent in the library, or carrying dictionaries around had made me feel entitled to such luxuries.

    "Of course, I will let him know. I am pretty sure that he would have taken care of these matters anyway, but I will confirm with him for your peace of mind."

    Her smile was brilliant and she knew exactly what I was doing. I didn''t want to hide my intentions so I wasfortable with her preferential behavior.

    At the end of the day, neither my background nor my current living condition helped in securing my ''sess'' and I am sure that none of the people I work for know about my exhrating past.

    I received a call from Professor Singh that evening. We went over the details and fixed the timetable. Everything was taken care of.

    The conference was on adolescent trauma and criminality, so there wouldn''t be graphic situations involved, hopefully, so I was not as anxious as I had thought I would be. Moreover, my insistence of avoiding criminology and criminal psychology rted tasks had also been broken. I med it on how sensitive I would get during Thanksgiving, with everyone visiting their families anding back to school to gush about their time home. It was understandable, most people assumed that someone my age would still have both parents and couldn''t fathom that assumptions really did make an ass out of them. I made it a point to act like a nice human being and not tell them about my situation that was the polite thing to do.

    It didn''t take much effort any longer. In the beginning, I struggled with the loss of my family and the disconnection I felt with the world in general; I couldn''t understand how I slid from being in pain to feeling absolutely nothing about a certain situation. Over time, I learned to blend the two together, I realized that my anguish over the circumstances which led to the demise of my parents and grandparents were beyond my control, and therefore, all that was left was an utter disinterest in social affairs.

    I found myself understanding other people''s perspective, yet there was no sympathy or apathy was mixed in it. I just... understood, it was like reading a book for the sake of reading it.

    So, I focused inward. I became selfish and asked for things. I would do well in life by understanding other people, but I wouldn''t do well if I didn''t think about myself.

    So what if I had almost lost all sense of sympathy? Or that I felt disinterested in social rtionships, I could use my observation skills to further in life... live a good life. Isn''t that what everyone else on the was doing?

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 5: Freedom

    Chapter 5: Freedom

    I became obsessed with being free, making my way without the interference of others. I left my aunt''s home shortly after I recovered and spent a huge chunk of my father''s savings and insurance money on renting an apartment and preparing to attend college. I build my body strength, learned to fight, rock climb, and skateboard. I wanted to run as fast as the wind, nothing stopping me.

    Exploring deste ces with local groups and urban runners became a favorite pastime. I enjoyed how anxious it made me feelthe daughter of a detective breakingws and trespassing and disregarding traffic. The more I made these trips without getting caught, the more invincible I felt. Nothing could stop me ever again; I had all the power to control my life.

    The conference had gone without a hitch. At the end of the trip, Professor Singh had a high opinion of me and assured me that if any of his colleagues needed help with trantions innguages I knew, he could direct them to me. It was not an idea that I wanted to entertain.

    Yet, the conference and constant need to be present around Professor Singh and listen to him speak about criminal psychology had left me drained. I needed some fresh air and what better way to be thrilled than to tag along with a group of fame-seeking urban explorers trespassing abandoned shopping mallste at night?

    The leader of the group was Lucas, a Youtuber known for his overnight videos and overall scary content, while the others were friends he had made while exploring or people he knew. I had met him and his group while I was being touristy a year or so ago, and asked if I could tag along. After producing my ID and ensuring them that I would not be holding them back, they let me join. Though they were a rowdy bunch that got spooked easily, they didn''t mind me silently exploring and sometimes going out of the nned path to explore further. Usually, I would turn Lucas down if he invited me over on a weekday, but I figured that after getting a couple of hours of sleep in the flight, I needed to cleanse my fatigue and tumulus thoughts by putting my body through strenuous tasks.

    "Evie, could you help out the new girl cross the fence?" One of the older members came up to me and asked. The new girl was a scared little bird who jumped every time someone looked in our general direction, thinking that we would get caught by the local authorities. It had never happened to me before, and not because these people were discreet or anything.

    "Don''t worry. I''ll see that she doesn''t fall behind." The girl was passive aggressive, to say the least, but it was obvious that Lucas wanted to engage in a sexual rtionship with her. It also seemed that she wanted to look tough so that she could impress him. It wasn''t amusing as I could see how tiresome the night would be if the girl was useless at physical activities.

    Usually, abandoned buildings were blocked off so that homeless people can''t enter, but people always found a way in, and these routes were usually pretty difficult to find and enter through if you weren''t experienced.

    "Suzy, right?" I asked politely, hoping she would ept my helping hand. It would be difficult though.

    "Yes. You?" Yup. This girl will not listen to a word I say. Her tone was acidic and I wondered exactly who she thought I was.

    "Evie Lewis, student. You are a vlogger, I hear. I''m not keen on Youtube, so I will ask for your forgiveness for my ignorance."

    ''Appease the beast. Appease the beast.''

    "Let me begin by saying that I don''t need your help-"

    ''There we go.''

    "-and don''t hold me back or slow me down. I like to set my own pace and I don''t want you hovering."

    "I''ll keep my distance. Call me over if you need anything," I told her with a polite expression. If she had problems jumping over a wall, I would make sure to push her by the ass and scrape her knees and elbows against the wall.

    God, how is she even wearing those tattered jeans and sleeveless top in this cold weather? Is she fearless or simply stupid?

    As expected, she squealed and groaned as the others encouraged her to climb metaldders or crouch and run across a rooftop. This abandoned shopping mall seemed to have only one entrance at the moment, the rooftop parking lot that led into the building.

    The door was wrenched open, a huge dent on the metal frame. It looked as if something huge had smashed into it. As the others fidgeted and eximed about what could have made such an impact, I found myself growing disinterested in the female vlogger who wasgging behind everyone.

    Her lost bravery had suddenly returned when we slipped into the building. She was a little slow and had brought a small backpack with snacks and a water bottle. She was also stupid enough to think that her phone''s shlight would suffice. She clutched onto her bag as she moved forward and gulped at the echoes of our footsteps.

    "Suzy, will you be okay if I let you go for a bit?" I inquired out of pure regard to my fellow team members. "Just ask Lucas or Justine to be near you, for now, I''ll break away and check out the lowest levels."

    At that point, the groups had only managed to reach the second floor and were busy thinking that someone was following them. They were continuously shing their shlights towards distant dark corners and gasping about how they saw someone move. I, on the other hand, was pretty sure that there was nobody there. I often wondered if it was their eyes ying tricks or their need to spice up their videos or just to infuse panic in the group. Fear was addictive, of course; without that, none of these people woulde back on the next exploration.

    I padded down the unmoving esctor silently, so as to not spook the others. This time they had even brought a knife for their protection, so I was hoping they would not think I was a dangerous stranger in the dark and stab me.

    As I shed the light around, I saw the ss windows and doors leading into stores that had once probably flourishedunder beautiful lighting and expensive merchandise and delicately dressed employees, smiling and ready to help you at any cost.

    I was cautious and made sure to check all corners before proceeding in any direction. Though I thought the group stupid for believing in the shadow they seemed to see, I was not foolish enough to believe that no one came in here to keep warm from the freezing weather outside. Some of them would probably attack if they felt threatened or try to mug me if they thought me an easy target. It hadn''t happened to me yet, but the probability of finding someone in these ces was very high.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 6: Dead Body

    Chapter 6: Dead Body

    The first ten minutes of exploration went smoothly, and I could hear the noisy bunch trying to make their way towards the rooftop parking lot, still pretending to be chased by a stranger who wasn''t there. Eventually, though, some of them broke apart from the main group and headed towards me. I tried not to pay attention to them and looked into one of the shops.

    Half the ss window of the store was covered with the "Coming Soon" sign that I so often see at shopping malls trying to intrigue customers about a new chain store opening at the location. The other half had long been stripped away, presenting a deste picture of unfulfilled desires and the economic bacsh of shutting down such a huge marketce.

    As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the impression of cardboards stowed along the walls, bunched together to warm people who have stayed over at night; more fascinating was the shape of a man lingering at the very end of the store, seemingly asleep.

    I turned to leave but the group had already caught up with me. They seemed to have ovee the excitement and panic, but were still pretty noisy with how well their video had turned out. They had just needed an outro, apparently, and they would be set for the next week. Lucas saw me and asked me if I had found anything interesting and I shook my head.

    "Don''t bother, there is a homeless man sleeping there." They seemed giddy at the prospect of new content and almost ran forward. Instantly I felt a wave of disappointment with myself, I should have calcted that my exnation would have the opposite reaction.

    "I advise you not to get too close!" I warned them, but they seemed to ignore my words. Their cameras were out and excitedly pointing towards the direction of the man.

    Then one of them said something curious.

    "Is he... breathing?"

    I swiveled on the spot and ran back to the store. The others howled in fright as I pulled the door open and neared the man.

    The cardboards were used to cover the people and warm them; the man had used none of it. And in such conditions, breathing would produce a sliver of white smoke, even if a little, yet I had seen none of that.

    "Evie, don''t!" I heard one of them scream. "It''s dangerous," I could hear Lucas, too. I could hear how panicked they were, but there was one thing on my mind.

    If I was on time, I could save the man.

    My cell phone was already in my hand, dialing 911, and my light was pointing at the man. It didn''t take long for me to understand that there was something gravely wrong with the color of the skin exposed. I knew this color. It was the color of death.

    Slowly, the image became clearer. His hair was matted down onto his head, but it didn''t seem to be from water, and his clothes, though very thick, looked frosted.

    My call had gone through, and to my surprise, I was calm. It had been my first emergency call and I had always hoped that if I had the chance, I would feel the panic setting in as I exined the situation, or that the operator would sound panicked as they sent for help.

    "Hi, this is Evie Lewis. I just found the body of a man in histe thirties or early forties. Seems homeless."

    "What is your location?" I heard the woman on the other end say. The coldness in her voice truly told me how disinterested or unsympathetic we were to the situation of others unless we witnessed it with our own eyes, further it was not because of any connection we felt to them but because we suffered a trauma watching them in pain. Our lives revolved around our own pain and gains, no one else''s.

    I gave her my location, but as I was about to hang up it suddenly dawned on me that she would think it was a prank call.

    "Ma''am, this is not a prank. I am really at the abandoned shopping mall and this man has been dead for some time. You need to send for backup and a forensic team. This man was murdered." There was a sharp intake of breath and I knew that I had understood her reaction before.

    The phone was promptly hung up and the others seemed beside themselves.

    They were closing in on me, seeming unsure of why I had pulled out the phone. They had heard snippets of the conversation, but I didn''t know how much, so I approached them cautiously.

    Before they could make their way the man, I blocked their way and pushed them back.

    "You can''t help." Was all I said.

    "What is going on?" The little vlogger from earlier, Suzy, mumbled.

    I was tempted to ignore her, but it was bing harder to keep them away.

    "The police are on their way. Make your way out if you don''t want to get caught for trespassing." That seemed to wake them up.

    "What the fuck?"

    "You bitch, why did you call the cops?"

    I figured that it would be the best way to fend them off of venturing into dangerous ces on silent nights.

    "The man''s dead. Killed by someone. I just reported it." I looked around to see the look on their faces. The fear in the atmosphere was palpable, but so was the gleam of fascination. Some of the boys were still filming, and I was not amused.

    "Stop filming and get out of here. It is not a pretty picture." I heard Suzyugh at the words and wondered how stupid she had to be to think that I was joking about a person''s death.

    "Miss Vlogger. If you post that shit on YouTube or even look at it long enough to let your brain process the scene, you will not be capable of sleeping without consulting a psychiatrist. I am politely asking you to get the fuck out before you face the consequences of recklessly throwing yourself into ''adventure'' that you are not capable of mentally or physically handling."

    The others stared in horror. If it was because of the harshness of my words or the amount of it, I did not know. It was probably the most they had heard me speak since I joined them in exploration.

    "You seem fine with it," she replied snottily.

    I snorted.

    If she had witnessed even one percent of what I had, she would have jumped from a building moaning about how unfair life was and how changed it had left her.

    I was tempted to drag her by the arm and let her see the bloating face of the man. But I wouldn''t wish that upon anyone... at least when they were not expecting it.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 7: Prime Suspect

    Chapter 7: Prime Suspect

    "Are you sure he is dead?" It was Lucas who asked, and I was surprised by how level-headed he was being about the situation. I had always seen him as an irresponsible and easily excited man-child who was incapable of taking responsibility, but here he was, being the voice of reason to a group of people who had yet to stop filming.

    "He''s been dead for some time. You can go and check if you want." He shook his head vigorously, obviously understanding the gravity of the situation. He also turned to talk to the group and convince them to leave. I noticed that he didn''t mention anything about leaving himself, which made me wonder if he was doing it for an interesting video he could make or just taking responsibility of things that had urred under his watch. There were a few others who didn''t leave, too, but they were the ones with the cameras still rolling, so I was sure that they were hanging around to get more views on the inte.

    I was satisfied that there stay would be in vain, only resulting in a warning from the cops or some time in jail if they got really unlucky. Their video footage would be seized as evidence and as it would be considered as sensitive information on an ongoing homicide investigation. Of course, they didn''t know that was how thew worked, they thought that escaping the eyes of the police would ensure that they get away scot-free, not that a dozen videos they posted of trespassing could act as evidence to charge them of a felony.

    Sheer stupidity.

    As a chunk of the group made their way out of the building, I could hear the sound of the siren. It seemed that the others were toote to get out. Every one of them would be questioned. I even chuckled at how amusing the situation was, but it didn''t help my standing in the group.

    They were sure that I was a psychopath by that time.

    .

    Police stations are weird. Actually, I take that back,w enforcement is filled with strange people. Not a single word I had spoken directed them to believe that I was the murderer, yet here I was answering the same questions for the third time in the past four hours. It was in the wee hours of the morning and I was lucky that needed little to no sleep to function as a reasonable human being. I could only imagine what condition the others must have been. Despite their protests, all the members of the group were transported to the nearest police station and had all been questioned alternately. I was not sure what they had said but most of them were let go when they called friends over. Unfortunately for me, I had called the murder in and therefore was being questioned extensively as was Lucas who had been taken to the second interview room just beside this one. Having gone through this process before, not as a suspect but as a victim, I knew well that the questions were more aggressive than what''s asked to an eyewitness.

    But this was about two hours ago and they had left me here to ponder on what I had been asked and answered. I was patiently waiting for the next round of questioning to begin and was sure that they were trying to instigate me into saying something scandalous as a result of stress and sleep deprivation.

    I was d that they had at least had the decency to offer me a bottle of water when my throat was parched and the room became chilly. It was about at seven in the morning (ording to the clock in the interrogation room) when the entrance rattled. A young looking man entered, his expression bare on his face.

    He looked somewhat angry as he closed the door behind him and my suspicion was confirmed when he dragged the chair across from me audibly before plopping down to sit on it. He exuded indignance and I expected his questions to be as such, too.

    "We should start with your name." Like his face, there was no charm to his voice. He didn''t control his vocal cords to maximize his presence or start with introducing himself and establishing his authority. Amateur.

    So I didn''t reply to him out of sheer spite. Did it make me look guilty, yes, but was I scared? No. I had figured out that they would realize I was innocent at some point in time so I had nothing to worry about.

    "Can you please tell me your name," he gritted out, much to my pleasure.

    "Evie Marie Lewis."

    I reached into my pocket to fish out the purse.

    The boy, though, was rmed and moved away from me as if to avoid being attacked, which was funny because my bodynguage was anything but polite.

    "My ID. This proves my identity." I gave him a smile that I hoped was reassuring.

    "Do you know why you are being questioned?" See, always with the off the mark questions.

    "I imagine I am being suspected of killing the homeless man," I answered him politely. By this time I had already figured out what was going on, who he was, and why I was being questioned repeatedly.

    "Good. Please retell the events that led to you finding the body." And I did as he said. Again, he was not asking questions, he was letting me figure out how to answer. It would only lead to the interviewee being able to edit the story to suit their circumstances.

    ''Amateur.''

    "-and I called 911 and asked them toe over with their forensics team."

    "You realized he was dead without checking for a pulse, huh?" He looked so satisfied with himself, thinking he had found apse in my narrative.

    "When I reached him, I was sure he was close to dying. There was no fogging from his breathing and he wasn''t using the cardboard as a makeshift bed. I figured I would have to perform CPR but when I saw his face, I knew he had been dead for some time." I was sitting straight, my hands syed on the desk, each on one side of the body.

    He reached for the file he had kept at the edge of the table and flipped it open. He took out a bunch of pictures and arranged them in front of me to see. I was scared that his only knowledge of investigation hade from watching TV shows, and I hoped that whoever''s assistant he was would realize that and quickly teach the boy how to go about interrogating and presenting crime scene information.

    "What do you see?" If I wasn''t annoyed enough, this made me reach my limits. I gave him a leveled re and asked him a question of my own.

    "Is this your first time trying to crack a case?" He seemed stunned and the vulnerable expression didn''t leave his face fast enough. "Ah, I was right. Youck insight and jump to conclusions. Did you expect me to react horribly? Gasping and gagging at the sight of the body? Or did you think that you could peg my indifference to the scene as proof of my guilt?" I scoffed.

    "Are you admitting to your crime?" his excitement was palpable.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 8: Circumstantial Evidence

    Chapter 8: Circumstantial Evidence

    "No, I am educating you." I sighed.

    "First of all, never show pictures to suspects like that unless you are sure they have done it or almost sure. Second. Ask questions first and then pull out your psychoanalytical tools. All you''ve done is made me look at you like an ipetent fool."

    Of course, he was offended. That''s what I was aiming for. I knew well that the person he was training under was watching the scene unfold.

    "And how did you know this much?" The sarcasm was obvious.

    "By now you must have received your primary autopsy report and it has told you that this person has been dead for about a couple of days but that the weather could affect the time of death drastically. Yet you are asking me nothing of my whereabouts for the past couple of days or verifying my story with the others in the group I was traveling in."

    To be fair, I was avoiding his question. I had my reasons for doing so, but not because I was going around murdering people.

    "Miss Lewis, your knowledge of dead bodies is intriguing. Were you, by chance, revisiting your site of murder to relive your fantasy?" he had the audacity to smirk.

    "Maybe I get the knowledge from the same ce you do," I paused looking at him expectantly, hoping to get his name.

    "Jameson," he said, still smug.

    "I was in Seoul, apanying a professor to a conference and was there for a week. You can verify my alibi with him."

    He pushed his notepad towards me and even gave me a pen.

    I wrote down the information quickly and gave it back to him.

    His brows scrunched as he looked over the name. Ah, he knows Mr. Singh. He was a renowned schr, but the expression seemed too sour to be of general knowledge. A student from my University, then.

    "I think that will be all?" he looked at me with a sense of intrigue. Did he think I was from the same department as him? "I am sure that the specialist you are working under probably as an assistant, knows that this is a case too difficult for you. I hope it teaches you what disappointment feels like. Your books on criminal psychology mean nothing in this room unless you know how to use it and back it up with evidence, empirical or circumstantial. You can''t just use statistics and behavioral patterns out of context and think it will get you the right answer, that is never the case in any aspect of life." I stayed silent for a minute and let him fume. This went on for about ten minutes as he tried to recollect hisposure.

    "You''re wrong," he started off. "How would you solve the case?" Under his tone of superiorityy a hope that I could make out more of the scene than he had been able to.

    I looked straight past him towards the one way mirror beyond which I knew his superior was standing judging the boy harshly. He was probably doing this to teach him a lesson on level-headedness and bring his ego down a notch. It was definitely a necessary scene. I hoped they could read the exasperation on my face.

    And I think they did.

    "Miss Lewis, you may leave. We will call on you if there are any further questions." I nodded towards the mirror and then gave Jameson a cutting stare.

    "Hope you have a good day." With that, I stood up, without waiting for him, and walked out of the room as I should have been allowed to hours ago.

    I could hear the sound of footsteps following behind me, but I didn''t pay it much attention. I was pleasantly surprised by Lucas, who was still waiting. Really, my opinion of him had improved over the span of one night.

    "You took really long in there. Everything okay?" I nodded and beckoned him to follow me out. I had to sign a couple of forms and was warned that I might be called on again.

    "There is a Starbucks nearby. I''ll have to apologize for bringing you trouble," I said. It was a given that we woulde across dangerous situations some day or the other but I don''t think any of them signed up for a corpse.

    "What happened in there?" I shrugged. "it took awfully long for them to let you go."

    I didn''t reply to him, I didn''t want him to think we were close or in the process of bing friends.

    "Thank you for staying but you didn''t need to, I feel ufortable to have held you back from your work."

    "I am a YouTuber," he chuckled. "I don''t need to go to an office or anything so a little time off is good for me. It makes work less tedious." Really, no one was happy with their job at any point in their life. How was everyone trudging through a series of failures and disappointments and just living like zombies without realizing that the thing they thought they loved was sucking the soul out of them?

    Were all those romanticized nonsense about Love all true? I was d I had never experienced it, then.

    "Tired of the daily grind?" I smirked.

    "You''ve watched my videos?" For a YouTuber with that many subscribers, he sure seemed surprised that I had stumbled upon those things he called vlogs.

    "I was researching Mysian street food and your vacation vlog appeared on my rmended list. I didn''t know you back then, but I got to see a lot of food. You act loud and reckless, so I didn''t watch further."

    From the corner of my eyes, I could see someone approaching me. I turned to look and groaned. It was the boy from before. He seemed to have purposely followed me out even though it had taken him some time to figure out where I had gone.

    "Evie Lewis," he called out loudly. People nearby all turned to look at him. It was still early and most people were not fully awake so his voice was unwee.

    "Pull up a chair and sit," I told him. I had sses in the second half of the day so I could drop by the apartment after quenching his curiosity.

    He did as I said, but he still looked a bit annoyed, though fascinated by my presence.

    "How did you guess the primary estimation of time of death?"

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 9: Sociopath

    Chapter 9: Sociopath

    I looked around, hoping no one had overheard.

    "This conversation is not suitable for breakfast," I told him before turning to Lucas. "He interviewed me before, but please ignore everything we say after this."

    He was a bit bbergasted, but let it go.

    "One: Everyone has seen a dead person once or twice in their lifetime, usually when an elder in the family passes away. Anyone can distinguish a dead person from a live one. Two: It was really cold, so ideally the internal temperature of the body would be controlled enough to slow down dposition drastically." I could see that he had something to say.

    "You are wrong there. He was wearing extremely warm clothes. It would cause the opposite effect and negate the cold temperature." I shook my head at him. Though I was pleased that he wasn''t treating me as a suspect any longer (probably because his superior had told him so) I was annoyed that he wasn''t noticing the ring discrepancy in the way the corpse was found.

    "From the photos you showed me, there was a thinyer of frost on his clothing. Though the cold can do that to the skin of the body, it isn''t the same for the thick jacket he was wearing. I think the man was wet by something and then when his body was transported the cold formed a thinyer of ice on his clothing." His eyes held aplex expression. "Yes, transported. You told me about going back to the scene of crime, but that isn''t the case. The site of murder is different than where it was found."

    "Because even though there was a gash on his head, there was no blood on the floor. External bleeding caused by a blunt force trauma was thought to be the cause of death, but apart from his hair, nothing had blood on it." He continued on his own.

    "You aren''t as bad as I thought," I told him with a smile. "I hope you don''t suspect me any further," I warned him.

    "You do seem like a sociopath, though. Your reactions and logic are not normal. Are you a student of criminology?" He asked, praying that he hadn''t been bested by someone from another department. He was very easy to see through, too. "Then what?"

    "School of Languages and Linguistics. Same university as you."

    "How did you know?" He gasped.

    "I just do."

    I was done with my tea so I strapped my bag and got up.

    "I''ll take my leave. I have some work to turn in." With a wave, I left the two sitting beside each other; hopefully, they would bond over it and make new friends.

    I wasn''t going to be joining in on expeditions with that group anymore. I pulled out my cellphone and deleted Lucas'' number from it.

    Well, time to find a new hobby.

    .

    Picking up a new hobby when you are in your final semester of University is easier said than done. While I worked on my dissertation, I worked extra hard to save up enough money tost me a couple of months so that even if I had an emergency I coulde up with the money to feed and shelter myself. I wouldn''t get jobs from professors after that point because of the job I signed up for and the pay wasn''t magnificent, as I had already known when I epted the job, but it did involve a lot of traveling. Yes, I was joining a multinational tourismpany which needed help with guiding groups of foreign people and going over transcripts from those countries. As I was ced in the headquarters, I was sure that the workload would be considerably high, but I was to join conveniently a month after graduation. Overall, I was done with my education and jumping into the materialistic world where everyone fought to make more money. I was starting out small, but I would apply to other ces after I had some job experience.

    I met Jameson from criminology one day when he sought me out by waiting outside one of my sses. I wasn''t pleased with his actions or the reception he received from the others in the department.

    "You were right," he told me as soon as I reached him. "It was a serial killer. They have been searching for him for years and they finally got wind of who he might be." He seemed ecstatic about the news, but I was wondering why he would inform me of that.

    "Isn''t that confidential information? You could get sued for breaching your contract." He waved myment off. I was about to enter ss when he blocked my path and then grabbed hold of my bag. I could have shaken him off but a lot of people were starting already.

    "Don''t worry. I don''t work for Mr. Butler anymore. Also, the killer has been arrested and is being questioned as of now. They told me because I was helping with the case before." He ran his hand through his hair sheepishly.

    "Years of college education and you get dismissed from an assistant position because of yourck of observation. Interesting." I shook my head in disgust. "I have no intention of following up on the case and I really don''t want to see you after today. I hope you don''t make a fuss, hm?"

    With that, I turned and entered the ssroom. Thankfully, he never approached me after that.

    .

    I sometimes wonder why I was so hostile towards Jameson and the situation in general and I get scared of the implications. Despite being brought up learning about investigations I had never been so acutely aware of my surroundings before I was kidnapped. The defensive attitude of mine and the insight into the criminal mind frightened me the most. Jameson was right, I did have psychopathic tendencies, the heightened symptom of which was myck of empathy and understanding of the human situation something that was built out of my need to suppress the memories, something that was not familiar in me. From the various series'' that I had watched as a child, these were the signs of a budding killer. The prospect that a single horrific event in my life could damage me so permanently and turn me into the very monster that made my life unbearable was unfathomable. It was my biggest fear and truly, I would kill myself before inflicting the same pain on someone else''s mind and body.

    Statistics, I found, showed that most serial offenders were recounted to have parents with criminal records, I can''t remember the exact number but it was pretty high. Lots of researchers since the neenth century concluded that criminality was hereditary that is was passed down through genes. I had a problem with that notion, it meant that I couldn''t control myself and was bound by nature to act on dark thoughts that my parents had sumbed to, that the very human aspect of us, our ability to choose would be obsolete just because of a defect in our gics. Though my parents were not criminals, the idea that something equally uncontroble would be able to annihte my sense of Justice and conscience, that I would be a ve to my conditioning was something I could not ept at any cost. I have questions and a solid fear of being proven wrong: my questions will not be answered and my fears never articted.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 10: Haunted

    Chapter 10: Haunted

    Strangely enough, I found myself visiting my aunt after graduation. While everyone had parents and friends surrounding them, I politely conversed with professors and teaching assistants. It wasn''t unpleasant or nostalgic in any way, but without having any other ce to go I thought of returning to the small town I had stayed in for a short period of time while I was recuperating. Having rented the apartment fully furnished, I had a normal amount of luggage to carry with me when my lease was over. This was another reason why I thought of returning to Town X. I could visit my aunt, whom I spoke to sparingly over the years, without bing a burden to her.

    She was my father''s cousin, but a somewhat close one so I was handed over to her when I was dered an orphan. I had rented a small apartment from aunt''s friend for a month and neatly settled in.

    Most people in town didn''t know who I was because I rarely ventured out during my stay, but some of the immediate neighbors had remembered me, even though it had been eight years already.

    One of them was Seth Watson, the boy next door whose bedroom was in front of mine. He had been a year older than me and bewildered by the news that aunt had brought a new girl home. I had overheard whispers on the street about the ghostly entity that haunted the house and quickly realized that the description matched me.

    Crazy eyes. Skeletal body. Permanent scowl and a mask covering my presumably horrifying ce. They hadn''t been fully wrong, though, at that point in time, that is exactly how I had seen myself.

    Even a gust of wind could have broken me.

    Most days my legs ached as I tried to get a look at the sun. It was worse during the rain. I remember that on one sunny day I had seen the neighbor''s son looking intently towards my direction. I had drawn the curtains, yet the sheer material let me look outside without having to face anyone. He''d had a couple of boys his age apanying him, all of them staring towards me. From there horrified expressions and mumbling among themselves, I knew that they could see my silhouette. But his eyes were different, disbelieving and curious.

    The first day he saw me was when they came over for dinner. Unable to withstand human contact, I secretly entered the kitchen to get myself some food. I had to recuperate and I had to do it fast and food was the only way at that point in time.

    I was sustaining myself on foods easily digestible and rich in protein. The doctor was adamant of nourishing my body and helping me rebuild the muscles that had decayed over the seven months of captivity. They said it was a miracle that I could use my legs properly after not having used it for so long. Hence, my diet was different than the one of those sitting in the dining area and I expected none of them to venture out to the kitchen. But the brave Seth Watson ventured out, despite the rumors of poltergeist hauntings, to fetch himself a ss of water. He was familiar with the house but was struck with a bout of fright when we came face to face.

    The initial panic was reced by resolution, one that he continued to hold until I left town. It was not a surprise to me that he would join the police force and work hard to be transferred to the violent crimes department as soon as he was.

    We had a silent camaraderie. He spoke too much, probably out of consideration of my condition, and I indulged in feeling more normal by being near him. He had no effect in my recovery, but even his sympathy made me feel like there was hope of me remaining a human and oveing my tragedy.

    I saw him at the local supermarket the second day I was in town. Despite how picturesque it was, a handful of tourists would end up in the area, therefore most people buying groceries had either been living for a long time or just moving in. I recognized him almost instantly, he was taller somehow and way bulkier than I remembered. He didn''t recognize me, though. I was still short, but I looked nothing like my sixteen-seventeen-year old self. Therefore I kept to myself and didn''t introduce myself. Nothing good ever came of small talk and reconnection, anyway.

    He nced at me quite a few times, but I was sure it was out of general curiosity and nothing else.

    Three days into vacation I received a call from Professor Singh, someone whom I had not spoken to since the conference in Seoul. When I picked up the phone I was pleasantly surprised that he had been asking about me to my departmental professors before being sure and calling me himself. He told me that his colleague needed a trantor for some of his seminar transcripts and that I would be paid handsomely. It was appealing but he demanded that I had to travel to his actions house and work there for the duration of my employment. It was a nuisance and I understood that academic papers were a sensitive matter especially to those dealing with confidential cases but I was just visiting and not ready to leave.

    "Professor," I began to protest, but he cut me off.

    "I was told that you are in Town X at the moment and free, please Miss Lewis he is staying there himself at the moment and really needs the help." I was taken aback by the information, but not surprised that he had found out.

    "Could you give me his contact details? I will speak to him personally to get more information about the task." He seemed amicable with the idea and sent over the details.

    Sebastian Butler. Associate Professor of Criminal Psychology.

    I quickly called the number but it rang through. When I came back to check my cell phone there was a message lighting up the screen.

    ''Identify yourself, it said.''

    ''Dr. Singh asked me to contact you.''

    The phone chirped again. This time he had sent me an address and the time at which I was supposed to head over. He also mentioned that he would interview me.

    Reasonable.

    It was indeed an urgent matter because the time he had asked me to go over was in a couple of hours. With nothing much to do anyway, I headed out and searched for the ce. Funnily enough, it was the only ce in town which was deemed haunted apart from my aunt''s. It was a vi located at the outskirts of town, hidden in the forest. It was Victorianesque in style and obviously renovated to amodate its owner.

    It was quite a hike from the main road to the vi, but the path was substantially groomed and looked ridiculously beautiful. Despite the looks I had received when asked for directions, it seemed that the house looked nothing like the dpidated death trap the man at the pharmacy depicted.

    I rang the bell and waited for the door to open. I checked my watch and I was a little ahead of time, but when two minutes passed without anyone opening the door, I was tempted to ring the bell again.

    Suddenly, I remembered how Dr. Butler had ignored my call and texted me instead. Realizing that it was a quirk of his, I quickly pulled out my phone and sent him a message saying that I had arrived. Within moments I heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. After the clicking sound, the door opened and revealed a man with very happy features, somewhat unlike I had imagined Mr. Butler to appear. Knowing better than to judge him by his appearance, I politely smiled at him.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 11: Temperamental Boss

    Chapter 11: Temperamental Boss

    "I''m Sebastian Butler. Come inside." He moved aside, giving way for me to step in. As I did, I got a nce of a shoe rack behind the door. I had already removed my shoes and was prepared to ask him where to put them when he noticed and chuckled.

    He showed me the spot and asked me to follow him.

    Different sizes, I observed. cing the shoes in, I cautiously followed him inside.

    "Take a seat. I will hand you a file with a document that you have to trante so that I can evaluate you." I nodded and waited patiently for him to retrieve the file.

    I looked around the room and tried to evaluate the personality of the person who lived here.

    Likes to brew tea.

    Stores no fictional texts in shelves.

    Style of furnishing matches the person that opened the door.

    Particrly neat.

    Lives with someone else as confirmed by the presence of shoes in different sizes and stray magazine on the countertop.

    Then who am I talking to?

    .

    I couldn''t hear the sound of his footsteps so I knew he would not be back so soon. Probably talking to Mr. Butler.

    What I then needed to figure out was why they are acting so strangely.

    I had not seen Mr. Butler before, even during the interview with Jameson and I was sure that he probably didn''t know that I was the same girl if he remembered me at all.

    Then, why the suspense?

    A couple of minutester I saw hime down the stairs with a ck folder in his hands. Handing it to me, he diverted towards the countertop to take the magazine before finding seating on the farthest end of the sofa. I assumed that he was trying not to distract me.

    Satisfied with my observation and the sound of the turning of the magazine paper, I looked down at the folder and opened it. To my surprise pictures that he been kept unattached inside the file spilled out and fell to the floor.

    "Oops. I forgot to take those out," he said with an apologetic smile on his face, but he seemed surprised.

    Another little trick to test me.

    Why?

    I gave him a polite smile before fetching out the sheets of nk paper kept inside the file and a pen from my bag.

    "You just have to trante the first two pages," he informed me btedly. I nodded and immediately went to work.

    While I had no problems understanding most of the content of the lecture, I was having difficulty with the technical terms used. The curious thing about trantion is that it must uphold the essence of the text and instill in it the very soul that the author of the original text had produced. With lectures like these, finding the right terms for criminal activities and analysis took a lot away from the emotion behind the speech, and moreover, it was hard for ayman to be able to put those words in context.

    Perplexed, I looked up and cleared my throat to catch his attention.

    "Do you have a dictionary around here?" I asked. He looked at the shelf for a bit before nodding and getting up to fetch it for me.

    "Here you go," he said handing it over. "Are you finding it difficult?" He asked, peering at the still nk page.

    "Nothing I can''t handle," I stated before regaining silence and locating the words that I needed.

    "You''re fast," he suddenly spoke up as I was revising the trantion. Unsure of how to react I gave an awkward bow and closed the file.

    "There you go," I said, handing it over.

    "Done already?" I nodded.

    "How about this? Stay for a bit and I will make some tea for you." I epted his proposal and reached into my bag to fetch out my cellphone.

    My aunt was calling me over for dinner and said that she would have friends over.

    Putting it down, I saw him fiddle around with the jars on the countertop in an effort to make fancy tea.

    Has never brewed tea.

    Lacks eye to detail and muscle memory during the process of opening and closing the lids. Doesn''t realize that he is exchanging lids of containers.

    He smiled as he brought the cups over and ced one in my hands.

    Acrylic nails that are longer than the nail bed.

    "I will look over the contents and let you know if you are hired. If that is the case I will send over a contract. Is that okay?" I stared at his hands for a bit longer before smiling and sipping on my tea again.

    Definitely not familiar with tea brewing.

    "I can assure you that you got the job, though," he chuckled lightly.

    It was too amusing for me to hold back and I broke intoughter.

    "Shouldn''t you ask Mr. Butler before assuring me?" The responding shock was gratifying, to say the least. Pleased with myself, I stopped pretending and kept the cup of tea back on the coaster on the table.

    "I''m sorry?" he asked, still flustered. I nced over my shoulder towards the second floor.

    "He should be on that floor, right?" There was a moment of silence.

    "What gave me away?" he leaned forward, not even trying to cover his interest.

    "Everything," I chuckled. He motioned at me to continue. "I knew there was someone else living here because of the shoes in the rack but didn''t linger on it for long until I entered the room. The shelves consist of non-fiction books, mainly about psychology,w, crime, and social theory, but there was a magazine on the countertop with the pots of tea, which youter started reading. You can definitely not brew tea and have little effort towards detailed work as you kept mixing up the process and the lids. Moreover, the file you handed me was definitely not yours because you had no clue that the pictures were inside. You were just rying what Mr. Butler had asked you to. Also, from the file, I can understand that Mr. Butler personally visits the crime scene. So, he would have to have clipped nails so that the gloves don''t tear, but you have longer nails that would definitely be a problem."

    Silence.

    Then a round of pping.

    "You''re observant!" He was obviously delighted. "My name is Alec Masen, I am a friend of the entric Sebastian Butler and somewhat of a nanny, if you see it that way."

    Ah, so that''s what is happening here. He''s temperamental and dislikes meeting new people.

    "You know who I am not. Now can you tell me what I do, then?"

    I was dumbfounded. This was surely not part of the interview, but I felt pressured to get the answers right. I gave him a once over and started to say my thoughts out loud as I processed it.

    "You have a creative streak, but you run a business." Choice of furniture. Economic magazine. "You use theputer a lot. So you run a business that needs creativity and innovation. I can''t pinpoint the exact job, though." That was the best I could do. I was a little upset, though. It was easier to prove you were not something (by deducting options) than it was to decidedly say what one is.

    "Wait how do you know I use theputer for work?" So I had guessed right so far.

    I shrugged.

    "People who type onputers andptops usually have harder darkened skin on the underside of the wrist where the skin rests against the surface of the desk orptop. You have those. The intensity of the darkness and roughness of the spot is a testament to how much work on theputer you do every day and if it is for professional purposes."

    He turned his wrist from side to side as if to examine if what I said was true.

    "I have some, too because I type most trantions on myptop." I showed him the spot. He was impressed and gushing about how valuable I was the whole time I was there.

    As I was leaving I saw a shadow on the staircase, clearly from someone standing on top of the stairs watching me without revealing himself.

    Temperamental, indeed.

    ''It is going to be interesting working here.''

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 12: Tantalizing

    Chapter 12: Tantalizing

    My aunt''s house was one she had bought with herte husband, who wanted to live in peace after being discharged from the military and they lived happily until he passed away because of a heart attack. Hence, my aunt was pretty much the olderdy of the town who everyone loved and was invited over to dine with.

    When I entered her house that evening, there were a group of people in the living room, already. There seemed to be three excited adults, two men and one woman, who were chatting about the current weather and how Town X was suffering because of low funds for maintaining infrastructure. Apparently, even the small town of X had recently been prey to a couple of car idents because of grievously bad road conditions. As I entered the room, I saw everyone pause and look up.

    They seemed a little confused until I was introduced.

    "Evie Lewis," I said and extended my hand. "It''s a pleasure to meet you. I don''t think you saw me when I was in town a few years ago."

    "Oh, yes. You were sick and recuperating at Rachel''s house, I remember."

    The woman was pleasant, as I had imagined, having brought up a well behaved, rational boy like Seth.

    By the time we were having dinner, I had molded my behavior into that of a polite youngdy.

    "I saw you at the grocery store yesterday," Seth began when he noticed that the older generation was busy in some other discussion. "I couldn''t recognize you at all."

    "It''s been years and I look better."

    Heughed at the sass.

    "Yes, you do look better."

    "I hear that you made it as a detective." I didn''t quite love the job description but he had achieved his dream, I would give him that.

    "Yeah, I studied hard and worked harder and made it." And he had a right to be proud.

    "I just graduated," I informed him knowing he was curious but didn''t know how much to ask. I was sure that he knew some of why I had ended up in Town X because he was close to Aunt and he was in thew enforcement. "I start work next month."

    His eyes lit up at the mention of that.

    Of course, it was a safer topic to talk about.

    "What did you study?"

    So I went on to exin what I did in the five years and what job I was taking up. It felt like I waspensating him for the time he had spent talking to me and helping me feel more human. I felt like I had repaid my debt.

    He noticed my diet towards the end of the meal.

    "You don''t eat chicken?" He said, pointing towards the dish. I was sure that it tasted delicious without tasting it.

    "No. I don''t eat any meats. I don''t like the smell of fish. So my diet consists of eggs and endless amounts of vegetables."

    "Are you transitioning to a vegan?" I shook my head.

    "Just a personal choice. I can''t stomach it," I said truthfully, and he didn''t dig further.

    I could feel my phone vibrate, but hesitated for a minute. He seemed to notice my plight and ask me what was wrong.

    "I''ll just check a message," I said, sounding more apologetic than I felt. He nodded and urged me on.

    ''The contrast has been sent to you via email. Please sign it and send it over as soon as you get the time. Alec will go over the details of work. -Sebastian Butler.''

    Another job in criminology.

    Lovely.

    .

    I was already at Mr. Butler''s vi at eight thirty in the morning the next day. As I had done the day before, I sent him a message letting him know I had arrived. Within seconds there was an automatic sound. I stared at the door for a second, trying to internalize what had just happened. It had been the sound of the door unlocking. It was only then I saw the hidden keypad behind a bunch of vines that was probably used to unlock the door. Looking around, I also saw the camera discreetly ced diagonally above the door. Twisting the door open, I gave out a little chuckle.

    So, it had all been a show to gauge my reaction to unexpected situations. Definitely not necessary for someone who was applying as a trantor.

    I had been told that I was not allowed to move any of the paper around or take it home with me (of course that would be the case, seeing that it was a case he was using to produce academic material) and that I could work as much or as little as I wanted to work in a day, as long as I finished the trantion in the stipted time. I was rather ttered that they had given me the liberty to move about the house as I wished, giving me permission to help myself to any food or raw material found in the kitchen. Of course, I was also instructed not to approach the first floor of the building or the locked door on the ground floor.

    I didn''t n to go anywhere else, anyway, but knew that those must be the rooms where Mr. Butler spent most of his time. I was curious as to find out if he woulde down to eat when I was in the house, though. He was taking so many precautions to avoiding face to face with me.

    ''How interesting.''

    A couple of ck files were stacked on the tea table, apanied by aptop and a thick envelope. Having learned the level of difficulty of the text previously, I ventured out to find the dictionary I had used yesterday. It was surprisingly easy to find, as if someone had ced it in clear sight for my convenience.

    I smiled.

    Flipping the folders open, I realized that various paragraphs that numbers written in brackets with it.

    PM2890.

    IJ5473.

    CS7895.

    I figured that they were references to some other text with a filling format. Instantly, my eyes traveled to the envelope. I opened it and found the source of my despair. I would have to sort through all of them to find the pictures each goes with.

    His writing was poetic, even as he exined the scene of the crime he wrote with passion. It seemed almost like a work of literature in its own right. As I ced each pictorial reference beside the written text, I began to understand the relevance of them.

    He was helping me understand the scenario better so that I could portray the true essence of his research. He was using visual aids to enrich the literary text only if for me to better realize it. I found the method fascinating, and it reminded me of all the theories of adaptation and trantion I had stumbled upon in the course of my higher education. He was using them in practice, and what a beautiful way of doing so. Morbid? Yes. But true to its theoretical roots.

    I got to work fast and despite the massive amount of pictures that I had to refer back to, the task was surprisingly interesting and challenging in equal amounts.

    A series of seven lectures on the evolution of madness of a killer, focusing on different segments of their lives, a truly fascinating read. I might have wanted nothing to do with the subject or police work, but I was up to critically analyzing any literary text that I could get my hands on, especially one as tantalizing as this.

    As the day rolled on, I was tempted by the beautiful jars of tea on the countertop. Hoping that the courtesy extended to helping myself to them, I went to the kitchen and got myself a tall ss of warm water. Unlike most tea drinkers, Mr. Butler preferred using tea leaves in ce of tea bags. It helped moderate the process and personalize it to one''s taste. Safe to say, I enjoyed the work thoroughly for the next three days.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 13: Vices

    Chapter 13: Vices

    I was quickly progressing and was surprised by how cooperative Mr. Butler had been throughout the process. I had heard the sound of his footsteps quite a few times as he moved about the rooms on the floor above and noticed his shadow pass by the stairs towards the kitchen and to the room at the end of the hallway that I was not allowed to enter. I kept to myself at such asions and usually found my way out of the house to give him more privacy.

    I had discovered a small path, a well-traveled one, leading into the forest on the second day and followed it. I was greeted by the sight of a beautifully glitteringke at the end of the path. The curling roots of trees made beautiful spots to sit on and enjoy the shade of the forest and the waterbody at the same time. On the third day, I found a stretch of cultivatednd, all of it growing vegetables. The only person this could belong to was my current employer.

    ''Mr. Butler, are the vegetables yours?'' I texted.

    ''Yes'', His reply was prompt.

    I peered into the basket to see that he had probably left it there in the early hours letting it sit under the sun because he was toozy to work on his little farm.

    Amused, I took out the pair of gloves inside the basket and put them on. After a little search on Google, I was confident that I wouldn''t do worse than my predecessor. With that boost in confidence, I got to work.

    It was a sport of patience, indeed and I spent most of my time rxing through it. Having collected a variety of things, I brought back the whole set to the house.

    It was uncannily silent inside, but nothing was out of ce.

    I ced them in the refrigerator and settled the basket beside the fridge, which seemed to be meant for it, hoping that I was doing the right thing.

    ''Produce is in the freezer.''

    I received a thank you and nothing after that.

    Well, if he wasn''t having them, then no one else would. It would have to rot in the freezer, then.

    The next morning I found a new cup in the cupboard. It was different from the matching set in the house and looked new.

    Later that day, I found the pot of tea I drank from the most replenished. A littleter when I wanted lunch I found a nice tter of baked vegetables inside the microwave, ready to be heated.

    ''Did you enjoy the veggies?''

    ''Did you enjoy the tea, Miss Lewis? -Sebastian Butler''

    And my suspicion was confirmed.

    The next day I found the basket near theke, yet again. I burst intoughter as I reached it and saw that he had not even tried this morning, hoping that I would stumble across his neatlyid out pile. Shaking my head, I looked around to inspect and enjoyed the morning breeze.

    It seemed that I had magnificent luck farming.

    .

    My productivity and hunger are inversely proportional. Halfway through the day, I felt so hungry that the man living in the house could probably hear me and my stomach grumbling in unison.

    My brain felt fried and my limbs had lost all will to move. I was almost at that point where my stomach gave up and dismissed its hunger. In horror stories online, this is when your gastrointestinal juices start eating your own stomach to provide nutrition. I never had the heart to find out the truth.

    I had packed a lunch box the night before but I had finished it in the morning because I woke up toote to prepare breakfast. Therefore without any lunchbox, I was supposed to cook a meal for myself in someone else''s house.

    Unfortunately enough, it was almost time for him toe down to grab some food, too. So I cooked two portions of the meal I was going to have and a fish side dish to go with it. I covered his portion and silently munched on mine. On queue, I hear him descend the stairs.

    I ducked my head and concentrated on my food as I saw him enter the kitchen and move towards the refrigerator. I think he realized that the food on the table was meant for him and came to check. Lifting the lid, he lowered his head and smelled the tter. He turned around and even though I could no longer see him from the corner of my eyes, I could hear the clinking of cutlery and the sound of running water. He was back within moments, picking up a spoonful of food and putting it in his mouth.

    I waited with bated breath as he chewed on it. I even stole a nce at him and saw a thoughtful expression pass by it.

    "Salty." Hemented, ungenerously, making me wonder why I had tried to be considerate of me. I was hoping that he was not talking to me, though, especially since I would not be touching or tasting the fish at any cost.

    "Thank you for your effort, but please don''t try to cook after this," his voice was stern yet soft.

    I took the moment to look up at him again and wondered if I should retaliate.

    "I''ll remember that," I said with a smile. "I imagine you won''t see me often enough to have to cook for you, though. I am almost done with all my work. I''ll just need tomorrow. Enjoy the food!" With that I gulped down the rest of the food and went back to work with one hand on my stomach, rubbing it and hoping that I don''t have digestive problems after taking away his food.

    My first face to face encounter with the entric Mr. Butler was not as smooth sailing as I hoped it would be. I would imagine that to do the work he does for so long, he would be peculiar and quirky, but his nitpicking tendencies were not winning him points with his co-workers or students. How he adapted to crime scenes was a mystery in itself.

    I heard the nking of kitchenware and squinted in irritation. After staring for an odd amount of time, I saw him emerge and walk towards me with a te of food.

    He ced it with a nk and ced a spoon beside it, only satisfied after perfectly aligning it with the table and the aforementioned te.

    He didn''t offer any exnation. He left me to decide if I wanted a taste or not.

    The vapors rising from the dish made my mouth water, especially because I was still hungry and in need of something to snack on.

    ''Should I give in to the temptation and lose this round?''

    ''Wait there are rounds?''

    After intense consultation and weighing of pros and cons, I decided for having a little bite of food to see how well he cooked and if he had the right to judge me.

    I made sure that he was not around to witness me lower myself and taste his food. And when I did, I lowered my head with a chuckle.

    Indeed, he knew how to cook.

    I rearranged the pieces of shredded veggies just to make the bite look inconspicuous, and hoped that he would not catch on when he eventuallyes to check on it, and I knew he would.

    As predicted, he came around a couple of hourster and observed me going about my work silently.

    "I think I proved my point," I heard him saying and raised my head to see what he meant. He was talking to me and he had a sly expression on his face. He pointed towards the dish.

    "I''ll admit to your superior culinary abilities, but you are quite rude when ites to approaching others. I''m not sure if I am offended or humored by yourck of knowledge of social customs."

    "I am not inclined to believe in scientism, but I do think that efficiency is superior to following bogus social norms that can only drag down our productivity and render us vegetables in the sd we call society." Though amusing, his words red apetitive streak in me. I bit back earnestly.

    "Yet these are the very norms that help you distinguish between one suspect and the next and calcte their chances of being the culprit." Thoroughly overjoyed that I had ovee his reasoning I was about to go back to work when he dropped another sentence.

    "By all means, I encourage others to resort to these socially upheld rules of morality, but I bar myself from bing one of them, that reduces my ability and neutrality towards them, Miss Lewis. I''d rather let them be the victims than be one instead." He shrugged. "Nothing else to say?" I nodded my head. "Go ahead," he coaxed.

    "I''m afraid you''ve fallen into one stereotype while trying to avoid it, Mr. Butler. The transparent intellectual."

    "I was hoping you would hold back your tongue in hopes of saving your wage," he countered, sounding impressed.

    "I never pass up a good debate, it is one of my vices, regretfully." To add effect I raised my chin and gave him the best defiant look I could muster.

    He looked might amused as he removed the dish from the table and went back to the kitchen, not resurfacing untilter, the te warmed and kept back on the table.

    "Enjoy the meal, Miss Lewis, I would hate for it to go to waste." He curtsied, shoved his hands into his pocket and went upstairs, not to be seen for the next two days.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 14: Presumptuous

    Chapter 14: Presumptuous

    Alec had miraculously appeared on thest day of employment and cheered me on as I reviewed the draft and turned it in. I didn''t see a peep of the obnoxious Mr. Butler, not even his shadow graced the ground floor. As half of the payment had already been made, I didn''t have much worry of receiving the remainder of it, so I went back to the apartment, rxed and happy that I had earned enough money to rent a good apartment. Safe to say, that the wages were beautifully high enough to entice me into working for a criminal psychologist for a week. Not a small amount at all.

    I spent my days learning to cook better food and searching for prospective apartments. Yet it was hard to find a ce that wasfortable and high security in Chicago at a low cost, especially if I wanted to live near my ce of employment.

    It was one of those days when my cell phone rang and I stared at it stunned, unwilling to pick up the phone. I couldn''t see any reason why Seth Watson would call me in the morning when he was clearly supposed to be at work.

    Regardless, I picked the phone up. He sounded breathless as he greeted me.

    "How do you know Sebastian Butler?" was the first thing he said after.

    "Uh" Confused about why I was being interrogated so urgently I went with the truth. "I tranted some documents for him. Is there a problem?" I asked.

    "No, no!" He reassured hurriedly. "I didn''t know you knew him so well!"

    ''So well?''

    "What do you mean?" I asked, perplexed and a wee bit suspicious about what he thought our rtionship was.

    "Aren''t you dating him?" Thunderstruck, I responded negatively immediately. I was so vicious that Seth remained speechless for a minute. "Can you just exin why you are calling?" I coaxed him to give up information.

    "Ah, Sebastian Butler said that he would take on a major case only if you are his assistant."

    I squinted my eyes trying toprehend what was just told to me. Assistant? Me?

    "I am not one of his students. Neither am I well versed in criminal justice procedures I don''t understand how I can help." It was a valid concern. Moreover, I had not been asked to be his assistant before he dered it to everyone. Especially important to remember was that I had zero interest in getting tangled up with criminals andw enforcement.

    "I don''t know anything more! Just call him and figure it out!" He was obviously irritated with the whole affair, and probably wanted to be the assistant for this case, but the opportunity was robbed from him. I shrugged it off and decided to give the culprit a call before he spread any more rumors.

    The phone rang twice before it was picked up, perfectly timed for someone who doesn''t pick up calls without prior notice of said call.

    "I thought I would never hear from you again, Miss Lewis. Were you presumptuous to think so?" I rolled my eyes.

    "You are rude to begin a conversation without a word of greeting Mr. Butler," I teased. "But I am not calling you to call out on your rudeness ah, maybe a little bit. I am, though, interested to understand why you have been making oundish ims to the good police officers of Town X." I heard him chuckle. As interesting as the banter was, I needed to clear up the misunderstanding.

    "I need an assistant. I think you will do just fine." He stated calmly.

    ''How presumptuous.''

    "I don''t see why I have to be your assistant, though. I think there are plenty of people who would like to take on that role!" I eximed. I could almost see him press his lips together to keep from smiling.

    "Do you want me topliment you on your professional ethics?" he suggested.

    ''That would be nice,'' I thought, even though that had not been my intention.

    "No. I want to know why you want me as your assistant."

    ''Straight, Evie, give it to him as it is. He thinks too highly of himself.''

    "You''re the only person I know in this town," he reminded me nonchntly. "You like doing tedious, time-consuming work that I have no patience for, you seem awfully concerned about social customs and don''t bother me when I work. These are qualities that qualify you as a good assistant, in my opinion." As he had mentioned, I was thoroughly ttered. Even though he made it sound like these characteristics were almost sinful, he quite admired them and recognized their importance.

    "Might I remind you that I know nothing of this kind of work?" I tried to wriggle my way out of it. If he had dered that he would only work if I was his assistant, the local police who needed his help would pressure me into doing the work. It would be better to reverse the irrational man''s plots than convince them to leave her alone.

    "I can solve such an easy case myself, Miss Lewis. I just need you to talk to people and be a messenger. You won''t be doing much else." He sounded bored. "It will take around five days for me to wrap up the case and you will be paid the same amount of money as your trantion job."

    "Tempting," I said sarcastically. "I will think about it and let you-" he cut me off.

    "No need, just be at the vi by seven tomorrow if you are willing. We have a killer to catch." Then I only heard the dial tone.

    He had hung up on me.

    I sighed and threw the phone to my bed.

    A little extra money wouldn''t hurt. I shrugged and went back to searching for a ce to stay.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 15: No Witness

    Chapter 15: No Witness

    I was five minutes earlier than asked. He had probably gauged my actions and therefore given me the passcode to the vi. I did as asked and went up the stairs for the first time since I came to this ce. I felt a little excited to see what he hid there but was sorely disappointed to see that the floor consisted of bedrooms and guest bedrooms and nothing as fascinating as I had imagined.

    The night before I hade up with wild images to amuse myself, but this was too normal for my taste.

    I opened the second door on the corridor and found loose sheets meticulously arranged to surround a small spot of space, where he must have been sitting and analyzing the material. At the other corner of the room, there was a whiteboard with names and dates on it. Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped in front of it.

    The names were of boys ranging from age thirteen to fifteen, all of them having gone missing over the past year and a half. Beneath the information was locations where they werest seen. There were other words scattered across the board which made no sense.

    ''No witnesses''

    ''Complex notion of masculinity''

    ''Bodies?''

    I was startled. From what I had gathered from Seth, the cops were suspecting a human trafficking ring functioning in City Y and the authorities only figured it out after a high school student from Town X went missing in the same area. But ording to Mr. Butler, these were serial killings. Those conjectures were leaps and bounds from one another.

    I heard the door open and turned to look. Out came Mr. Butler, dressed in a fluffy white robe and drowsy eyes. He was dragging his feet and seemed to be walking with his eyes closed, but he avoided the papers perfectly. The rustling sound continued as he made his way down the stairs and mindlessly headed for the kitchen. I followed silently, holding back a snicker. The morning was full of surprises.

    He was already slumped over the table inside the kitchen when I reached. A ss of milk was being warmed in the microwave and the toaster was on timer, too. A jar of butter was ced on the table, which had not been the case when I had been here earlier. Yet, he looked utterly asleep, or at least not in a state to open his eyes. The timer on the toaster went off first and he scurried away and took the slices of bread on a te. He returned to the table and plopped down. He huffed and started smearing the bread with the butter, eyes still closed. When the microwave turned on he repeated the same process, but this time he cradled the ss of milk between his palms and sipped it with a little pucker of his lips. He shuddered and drank a little more. When he was done with the ss, he raised his head a little and squinted at me.

    Unable to hold back, I broke into a fit ofughter. He was irritated and pouting, the milk mustache still present above his lips. He seemed to gain some knowledge of his surroundings and rubbed his face on the robe like a sleepy cat.

    It was all extremely entertaining.

    "You sleptte this morning," I stated matter-of-factly, but my amusement seeped through. He was more awake, but the re he gave me was still very low intensity. It was an exceptionally rare opportunity to tease him and win in an argument against him. He did not reply, of course, but the responding groan was enough to tell me that he was very particr about his sleep and couldn''t function properly without.

    "What happened to your hair?" he asked suddenly. His eyes widened as he gasped in horror. I touched my hair, feeling conscious and smoothed it down further.

    I had made a bun in the morning, unusual for me, but it was the best option as there would be a lot of field work involved and I wouldn''t want my hair to get in the way or touch my neck and make me feel ufortable.

    "It''s practical and makes me look put-together." He gave me a calcting look.

    "You''re going to be talking to people on my behalf. You looked nicer with your hair in a ponytail." He dropped his head on the desk but looked up at me. "Don''t bother," he saidter as I was about retort.

    "You shouldn''t bementing on my appearance, it is rude and unprofessional." I would have stuck my tongue out at him if he weren''t my boss.

    "That is why I hired you, Miss Lewis. I am rude." Yet he didn''t mention anything about being unprofessional. How fitting ignoring the things that get under his skin. The typical psychoanalyst who thinks they are the only ones who can figure out what makes the other person tick.

    I fully intended to ignore anyments he made, but he seemed to have an uncanny ability to infuriate people. I wonder if his talents extended to all of mankind, in general, or just to a select poption.

    I sighed and waited for him to get dressed. He was supposed to interview the family of the first victim, a sixteen years old boy who had gone missing a year and a half ago. The mother was a single parent, struggling to provide for her son. I worried about how he would act around a bereaved mother but quickly controlled my thoughts, assuring myself that even if he isn''t polite, he would not be senseless and I would be there to buffer the blow.

    .

    The ride on his car was surprisinglyfortable as he did not speak much. I looked down at the notepad on myp and went over the words he had scribbled on the whiteboard, trying to make sense of it. In the end, curiosity got the best of me.

    "Mr. Butler, why do you think this is a serial murder case? The police are sure that it is a trafficking business."

    It seemed like the safest question to ask. He eyes flickered towards me and he gave a smile, the meaning of which I could not decipher in such a short period of time. In retrospect, I realize that it was satisfaction and a tinge of smugness ying on his lips.

    "Human trafficking usually targets younger children and women because they are easier to handle and transport. Boys of the same age are physically more difficult to transport and more conspicuous, therefore, are not usually targets of this trade." I opened my mouth to object, but he gave me a stern look asking me not to interrupt. "Now, though rare, such cases do ur, but I have further evidence. Look at the dates on which these kids werest seen."

    I looked down at the paper and did the calction in my head. As the conjectures began to make sense, Mr. Butler exined them.

    "The time span between each disappearance slowly decreases. It may look chaotic at first, but on closer inspection, you will realize how the gaps keep shortening but an only select number of people are being abducted, all single instances. In a trafficking ring, transportation has a method and even though the routes change, timings rarely do. The patterns for these cases are different." I just sat there, eyes wide open, staring at him.

    "Don''t be impressed so easily, this ismon sense. At least you caught on when Iid it out for you," he shrugged as he returned to driving silently again. But my curiosity was piqued and I needed to have the answers.

    "Why does theck of witnesses y an important role?" I asked again. This time he did not turn to look at me. He had expected the question.

    "No one saw these boys being dragged away even though they were abducted in broad daylight." He began, but I had already figured it out.

    "Boys their age would make a fuss and even if they were drugged people would notice them being taken away if it was in crowded locations as thest sightings show. Then, the killer lured them away from these ces and took him to his ce of killing." Sebastian nodded.

    "There''s hope for you," he said suddenly as I mulled over the newly gained information. "After we talk to the parents I will make a profile of the criminal. You''ll have to call the police department and arrange for a conference where I will reveal the profile and discuss the location where the bodies will be found."

    ''Bodies.''

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 16: Genius

    Chapter 16: Genius

    The curious thing about investigations was that until you found the bodies, there was still hope for the victims; they could be alive, just tortured and hidden. Hadn''t most people believed that I was definitely dead because Alice never kept a person captive for more than a month? Her games and her curiosity were focused only for that short period of time, but I had survived. These victims could, too. It was possible.

    "Take some time topose yourself," I heard from beside me. I looked at him curiously and saw that he didn''t offer much information through his expressions. "We will reach the first victim''s house in a couple of minutes. I need you to be prepared to observe. Whatever you are thinking, however terrified or sad you are about the situation should not show on your face." I was almost shocked, his words though helpful were meant to be professional; but in my mind, his tone said much more than that. It was almost reassuring. I had not felt that for a very long time. Reassurance and trust didn''te easily to me anymore. I had been depending on myself for too long.

    As he had said, we arrived soon. I looked up at the apartment building and noticed that even though it was an older building it was well taken care of. There were no guards, just a doorway which led to the stairway. We went up to the third floor and rang the doorbell.

    A woman in her forties opened the room. She looked worn and suspicious of our arrival. I swiftly introduced myself to remove her hostility.

    "Ma''am, I called youst evening asking for your time." Recognition lit up her face and she ushered her in. Sebastian seemed to be engrossed in his surroundings. He turned to the woman.

    "Could you show me to your son''s room?" The woman, though stunned, didn''t question him and just led him to a room. The interior seemed untouched from the time of the disappearance so empty cans of Diet Coke and chips were stashed in a huge box, theputer on the desk looked old and second hand, but there were quite a few CDs of videogames ced nearby.

    "Find out the ces he frequented and things he liked. Everything." He entered the room and didn''t turn back.

    I guided the mother back into the living room and asked her questions about her rtionship with his mother and his hobbies. Satisfied with the information, I went back towards Mr. Butler. He was still looking around, engrossed.

    "Mr. Butler," I called slowly so as to not startle him. He turned immediately and gave me a questioning look. "His rtionship with his mother was mostly good, but before the disappearance, he became distant and hostile towards her and threatened to run away. They came to an agreement soon, though. He loved videogames and often visits the arcades with his friends from school. His grades are average, he has no girlfriend, and he didn''t want to go to college." I stopped.

    "Is that all? It seemed like you have more to say." I hesitated.

    "It might be irrelevant but their family visits the farmer''s market every week. Even if the mother didn''t go, he liked shopping for groceries andmodities." I waited for him to answer. His mouth was open as if in shock. He took one step closer and then in a sudden movement wrapped me up in his arms.

    "Mr. Butler!" I eximed.

    "Genius, genius," he chanted. "Alec was right to say that you are best suited for this job," heughed to himself. "How did you find this out?" This was when he stepped back. I sucked in a breath and shrugged.

    "We were done with the conversation and she seemed to be almost in tears so I tried diverting the conversation by referring to the bag of groceries. She did end up crying her eyes out," I mentioned ufortably, "but I found this out. Probably isn''t of much use."

    "No, it is. Thank you!" He pulled out his phone and quickly typed into it.

    "There are two ces this boy could havee in contact with the killer. Thetest victim went to City Y with his friends to check out a market." He was rushing out of the apartment in no time. I was left to assure her that we would get back to her and Sprint after him to catch up. "You can do the other interviews," he informed when we were both strapped in.

    Good job, I heard in my head.

    I smiled, satisfied that I was able to do my job well.

    Everything seemed to fall into ce, the theories that he had told me unfolded like a story before my eyes. All the kids went to the cybercafes and arcades to y games and they all visited the market more than once. When we were walking back to the car, he turned his phone to me to show me something.

    It was a map on which he had marked a considerable area.

    "What is that?" I asked. The two points were the victims availed were marked, too. This area formed a triangle with the other two.

    "The killer lives somewhere near this region. Inform them that I will brief them tomorrow morning." I nodded and pulled out my phone.

    Seth was confused as to why we believed it to be a serial killer and wanted answers immediately. But Mr. Butler just ignored the request. Despite my nagging, he remained resolute.

    "Thest briefing I did was in DC, I am not doing it inside the car." Pride is his vice.

    "The contents or credibility won''t change if the location does," Imented, but he just ignored me.

    "Mr. Butler and I have to assemble all the papers before the briefing, we can''t do it before tomorrow," I apologized. It seemed that I would have to be the one taking the fall.

    "Liar," I heard Mr. Butler mumble from beside me. I red at it to shut his mouth and bid Seth goodbye. The excuse seemed to have worked.

    It turned out that I was not wrong in saying that we needed to prepare. I ended up making a presentation with all the information and maps he told me to make. He had evene up with two possible locations where the bodies could be found.

    We went into the station at seven in the morning to prepare for the briefing. I was left to copy all the relevant material and distribute it. Mr. Butler was wandering around the premises, doing absolutely nothing. He passed by me a couple of times but spared me nothing but a nce. We dide back when I was arranging everything and leaned against the wall.

    "You don''t like police stations, do you?" he asked.

    "No one in particr likes toe here," I told him with a deadpan.

    "Your dislike is personal," he began, "and your familiarity with due process indicates that you know someone who is a cop." I gritted my teeth and kept silent. "No. You knew someone who was a cop."

    "You''re awfully talkative today and looking down at everyone, I see," I taunted. "I hope you can keep your sarcasm in check when you brief them. They are respectable people who have worked here for a long time and do not deserve your criticism." I huffed and looked away.

    "Miss Lewis, I don''t know what made you think so, but sarcasm is a product of a difference in intelligence between the people engaging in a conversation. The cops have a different job than I do, I don''t expect them to be able to do my job."

    Clearly, I had offended him. He had walked away towards the conference room.

    ''He called me stupid. A difference in intelligence.'' I scoffed.

    I am not in the same profession as you either; I don''t deserve your attitude! I protested.

    I took all the documents and went inside the conference room. I distributed the papers and then seated at the very back of the room.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 17: The Reason for His Failures

    Chapter 17: The Reason for His Failures

    It was amusing watching Mr. Butler answering passive-aggressive questions fromw enforcers from Town X and City Y, who had never coborated with a criminal psychologist or handled a case like this. Obviously, there were a lot of doubts about the method through which he had estimated the location of the killer''s residence and the areas where the bodies may be disposed of.

    "The killer is male, between the age of twenty-five and thirty, rents his house, but is single and not living with any family member. He is of average build and is unassuming in looks, but he is a good conversationalist and has a job which required him to talk to a lot of people on a regr basis." As he made the profile, the general reluctance to believe him was evidently high. When asked how he came to the conclusion, he smiled and changed the slide on the screen.

    "All the victims frequent the farmer''s market and inte cafes to y videogames. The location of contact between the victim and killer is in the market, where he works at the stall or behind the scenes. This is where he scopes out his victims and lures them. He makes themfortable and apanies them to the cafes after which he invites them to his ce and kills them. Even though he is organized and intelligent in his approach, hecks confidence, especially on his first kill. He shouldn''t have ventured beyond hisfort zone, therefore, the location of disposal of bodies should be one of these locations," he pointed.

    "Any questions?" He asked generously. A couple of people raised their hand.

    "Could the ce of contact have been the cafe and not the market?" One asked. Mr. Butler shook his head.

    "The farmer''s market is full of adults and usually teenagers apany their family there. It would be difficult for the killer to lure the kids away if they were in such an atmosphere. Cafes, on the other hand, are frequented by younger people who are immersed in the game and somewhat familiar with one another. The killer would find it easier to apany the victim to such a location." His exnation eased some of the distrust.

    "Why do you think the killercks confidence?"

    "He kidnaps male teenagers who can be considered capable of making their own life choices. If you notice the timeline carefully, all the disappearances were called in days after they actually happened, because there was a chance that the kid had run away or left the home temporarily." This shocked me. I had not noticed this. "This shows that he is deeply insecure about his masculinity and feels the need to reinforce it through such a fantasy. He feels that he lives an unremarkable life for someone his age, that his mediocrity is the reason for his failures."

    ''That exins the age estimate he gave,'' I thought.

    The room grew silent after that.

    "From my estimates, there should be at least eight bodies. The number may be more as most cases go unreported." He looked around the room once more to ensure no one else had any questions.

    "Meeting adjourned," he stated. He shoved his hand in his pocket and left the room. The police officers started discussing the n among themselves, negotiating the task force to be asked for, crime scene analysts and such. I took the time to arrange the documents and leave the premises.

    It was fortunate that he had waited for me at the car. When I got inside, I saw him wearing sunsses.

    ''Who wears sunsses in their car?''

    He noticed my stare and took it off.

    "It makes me look cooler," he said, replying to my unasked question. I shrugged, almost used to his uncanny behavior.

    "I''m sorry for offending you," I mumbled.

    "Don''t act docile, it doesn''t suit you. I wasn''t offended." He looked over at me. "You''ll learn in time."

    I almost snorted. We won''t be seeing each other after the case is closed. I''ll have to go to my intendedpany and work where I actually want to.

    But I didn''t say anything. As we drove, the silence became stifling.

    .

    "How long do you think it will take them?"

    "You''ll wake up to the news of the corpses being found tomorrow." I nodded. "I advise you to stay at my ce. I don''t want to wake up early and have to drive to pick you up and then go to the scene." Though reluctant, I understood what he meant.

    "We don''t have much work today, but we are sure that the ce of contact is the market, so should we go to the administrationmittee and ask for the list of stalls and owners do narrow down the search?" I suggested.

    "Ideally, it should be the cops doing that job, but if you are truly interested, you can do it. I will drive you," he said nonchntly.

    I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion.

    "Is there a divide between the task of a criminal psychologist and the police department? Isn''t the goal the same?" He shook his head.

    "The mythes from the misrepresentation of criminal psychologists in serialized television. Most of us don''t pursue investigations and focus on academic research, but there are a number of us who do both. The job is to paint a picture of the criminal and understand them, we are not a part of the enforcement which searches for evidence and therefore catches the culprit. Our jobs coincide, but the purpose of each is different. The cops look for a coherent strain of proof which they can present at court while criminal psychologists refer to previous study of human psyche and deviance to conclude who the killer is." He waited for some time for me to process it.

    "I understand, but don''t you feel a duty to thew enforcement to find out the killer?" My question was born out of apprehension.

    "Researching possible candidates helps evolve us as analysts, but this is at a basic level. Our rtionship withw enforcement is based on the trust that we will do our respective jobs. I have shown them the way, now they will have to use their resources to give me a list of individuals who fit the profile I have made. It is simr to finding bodies, I can''t just decide to dig up a certain location, I need authority and permission for that."

    As he calmly exined the process, I realized my mistake in judging him. When he said that he didn''t fault them for not being adept in his field, this was what he had meant.

    "Then why did you ask me to visit themittee?" Strange.

    He chuckled.

    "I don''t know what career you will choose, but research andmunication skills are mandatory for any job description. Further, when you put this on your CV it will look beautiful." The smile on his lips remained. I found myself smiling, too.

    "Thank you, Mr. Butler." He did not reply. He drove back to the vi silently and ordered me to contact themittee. It was not difficult to find a cell phone number and convince them to email me a list of stores. It was grueling work, contacting the sellers and inconspicuously asking about their employees. It was already veryte when I was done with the task.

    Mr. Butler had graciously prepared food and had somehow figured out my distaste for non-vegetarian dishes. As we cleaned the dishes, I asked Mr. Butler if he had some spare clothes and room for me to crash in.

    He reluctantly told me that he has no clothing to share.

    "Don''t tell me you want me to sleep on the sofa," I grumbled as he was about to go back upstairs.

    "Did you think I would let you take the bed? These TV shows are ruining expectations," he clucked his tongue.

    "It''s a vi, there are at least two guest rooms from what I noticed. You are being rude by denying me the right to sleepfortably." He leveled me with a stare and told me to take the empty guest bedroom that Alec had never used. I shrugged and went into the room.

    Sometimeter, I heard him knock on the door, I opened it to find him looking utterly disinterested, with dark colored clothes in his hand.

    "They are Alec''s and have never been worn," he rushed as if fearing I would mistake it for his and think he was kind. I nodded and was about to close the door when I heard him say something else. "I don''t like others in my clothes or in my personal space." His exnation was easy to hear, but hard to fathom. It was unexpected, but the words were rational.

    "I shouldn''t have asked you for them, anyway," I assured him gently. I bid him goodnight and went to bed.

    He was rational and protective of his privacy not an unpleasantbination. I liked hispany far better than the average person''s. At least I didn''t have to pretend to be virtuous or smile. Being around most people was exhausting, but here, theck of contact kept me on my toes and energized. Certainly not a bad thing.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 18: Running Against Time

    Chapter 18: Running Against Time

    There is nothing more infuriating than receiving a call at three thirty in the morning. It was Seth who had made the call, and Mr. Butler had been right to guess that it woulde. I jolted out of the bed and rushed to his bedroom. I would have to wake him up and leave as soon as possible to reach the burial site.

    "Mr. Butler, wake up," I urged as I pushed his shoulder. I was not in the mood toment about how perfectly straight his posture was as he slept. It was for another asion altogether.

    He groaned and tried to ignore my calls. Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward to shake him. It almost worked, but the half-conscious Mr. Butler grabbed my wrist and ced it on his cheek to cuddle.

    "Sheng Sheng don''t roll around on the bed," he whispered in a daze and snuggled closer. Horrified that he had somehow mistaken me for his lover, I pulled my hand back and snapped at him.

    "Mr. Butler!" I called sternly. He opened his eyes to look at me, irritation clear on his face. "They found the bodies," I said. He pushed out of the bed immediately.

    "I''ll go change," I informed as I moved out of the room, amused by how fast he had ovee his grogginess that morning.

    As I dressed, I reflected on his posture. He had been lying on the bed like a log, stiff, his hands ced on his chest, looking like a corpse prepared for the funeral.

    Maybe that was the look he was going for. It would suit the sordid humor that came with his profession, I assumed.

    A couple of policemen scurried towards us when we parked the car. They greeted Mr. Butler. I looked away and saw Seth rushing, too. He waved at me, but his expression was sobering. He looked panicked.

    "Mr. Butler, we have already found numerous bodies, but we don''t know the exact number." I arched a brow, confused about what that meant.

    ''How do you not know how many oh.''

    "What is the primary report?" he asked, unmoved.

    "Bodies have been sectioned into six parts, the head and other limbs separate from the torso. It is not a pretty picture." Seth did look a little unsettled by the sight.

    "Miss Lewis, follow me," he said and I gaped at him.

    "Mr. Butler, you assured me that I didn''t need to look at corpses," I reminded him. He turned to look.

    "It would be a good experience." His nonchnce was infuriating.

    "Good choice, Evie. Even seasoned investigators have been a little ufortable at the scene. It''s better you stay in the car and wait for us." I nodded. As I was turning away I heard Mr. Butler call me.

    "Are you really not going?" I nodded. "Pity," he mumbled and then left.

    Did he expect me to jump in joy at the prospect of seeing dismantled bodies? How presumptuous.

    I walked back to the car and slid inside. After locking myself in, I gazed outside and watched the flurry of officers running around panicking. There were individuals in scrubs carrying big boxes and into the restricted area. Sometimes, someone woulde out in panic and somewhat excited, notifying a man who was clearly in charge of the finding of a new body. It happened about three times while I sat there. Mr. Butler appeared fifteen minutes after the over-excited police officer bearing the news of a new body found.

    He knelt down and removed the crime scene slippers the ones that looked like those surgeons wear, and then removed the gloves. He disposed of them in a bin that had been conveniently ced nearby. He exchanged a few words with the man in charge and then walked over to the car.

    "Any developments?" I asked. His expression was neutral, but there had to be something new to report.

    "We found the first victim," he replied nonchntly.

    "The single mother?" He shook his head. I imagine my eyes widened in shock.

    "This boy was killed at least six months before the other victim, judging from the degree of dposition. We''ll have to wait until the body is removed and put together at the medical examiners''."

    ''Put together.''

    "Judging by your expression, this is a game changer. Why? Was the style of killing different?" I turned towards him fully, leaning forward to listen properly.

    He ced his hand on the steering wheel. He tapped it a couple of times, staring out the windshield before beginning to exin.

    "We believe that killers are cold-blooded and bold inmitting the crime, and that assumption is not always wrong, but in reality because of the social contract the restrictions and morals that we have been indoctrinated with, even killers are not confident inmitting the crime. They also fear getting caught but can''t stop their urge. Killers like this one start with killing people they know people who they are closely rted to family members, rtives, colleagues, neighbors. It bes easy for us to locate the killer once the first victim is identified."

    He looked unappeased by the find.

    "Is there a problem with the body?" I asked apprehensively.

    "The most recent kill was about 2 weeks ago." I scraped my brain for why that would be a case altering factor.

    The dates of abduction came to mind.

    I calcted the difference in times.

    The killermits murder about once in three to four weeks. He lives in a rented ce and doesn''t earn much he can only amodate one captive at a time

    "He''s alive." I gasped as the realization came. "We''re running against time, now," I whispered to myself. I heard him hum in agreement. The car started then. His voice was calm as he said the next words.

    "We''re not tracking a killer now, we''re rescuing a victim." Something in me snapped. It was a feeling of helplessness, desperation to do something. But I was incapable of such a task. "Let''s just hope they find the boy intact. I don''t need another perfectly chopped corpse on my hands." He sighed.

    The drive was silent. I stared out of the window and wondered if there was a chance for the boy to see another sunrise. I wondered if Sebastian Butler would be able to save his life. I looked at the man in question. I gulped as I felt my heart sink.

    I wanted to trust him, but it seemed pointless to trust someone who thought they understood the mind of a killer.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 19: Smell of Death

    Chapter 19: Smell of Death

    The morgue is a curious ce. It doesn''t exactly smell of death, but the sterility and smell of disinfectant make it ominous and suffocating. I had never been to a morgue before, never having to face the stiff and cold bodies of my deceased family. Neither had I been asked to identify any of the other victims found rted to the Elegant Butcher. It was odd to see Mr. Butler so at peace in this ce. I wondered how many trips it had taken him to get to this point of indifference, this sense of belonging to a ce associated with decadence.

    ording to Mr. Butler, a corpse as old as this would not fall under the category I had wanted to avoid. Hemended nature on its fast pace of dposition as he led me into the room. To be fair, there was not much left of the corpse for it to be dreadfully unsightly. There was still trace of some soft tissue and muscle, but nothing too gruesome. The medical examiner was removing his gloves when he noticed us.

    "You must be the specialist," he said, a faint smile on his lips. Certainly not what I was expecting at the time.

    "What is the condition of the newer corpses?" Mr. Butler asked. He wasn''t bothered with pleasantries. The good doctor handed him a file. He went over it and then handed it to me as if to make me go through it.

    I opened the report and went through the pages. All reservations about not seeing corpses flew out of the window. The graphic photographs of severed limbs and bones peeking out were a somewhat familiar image, but part of a distant memory that I did not want to revisit. I sighed as I read thements about the bruising of the wrists and ankles and the strikes that dismantled the body. I didn''t quite understand thenguage of the autopsy report but could sense that there were changes in the pattern of killing. I reserved the questions forter when Mr. Butler was free to answer them.

    My eyes moved back to the man in question. His face was ufortably close to the skeletonized body. He seemed to be moving the limbs around looking for something.

    After a few minutes, he looked up and signaled at me to get close. I sighed and walked up to him reluctantly. He motioned to lean closer and then started whispering the information.

    "Do you see the location of cutting?" I nodded. "Tell me what you see."

    "I don''t know what it means," I told him sullenly.

    "Just articte what you see. I''ll exin it."

    "The bone seems to have irregr indentations," I squinted as I tried to frame my thoughts. "It looks like when you try to cut bread with a dull knife and saw at it, leaving behind an uneven sliced side." I scrunched my brows as I thought about the example.

    "Excellent," he encouraged. "Then? What happened to the other corpses?" I revisited the pictures in my mind.

    "As time goes on the cuts be cleaner, but then" I trailed off, taking the moment to stare at Mr. Butler. "It''s as if he sliced through the limbs in one stroke with a very sharp object like cutting through butter."

    "He changed his weapon." Mr. Butler nodded.

    "Any other observations?" I shook my head. "Look at all the cuts. They are all different in ridging and angles, but in the more recent corpses the angle of cutting is exactly the same."

    "I don''t understand," I confessed.

    "He did change his weapon. Previously he used butcher knives or simr cutters to chop the limbs, but he got braver and made a machine that could do the same thing in lesser time." Safe to safe I could not picture what he was talking about.

    "Like a killing machine?" I tried in a weak voice. He nodded.

    "Call Seth Watson," he said in an excited voice.

    .

    I gave him the phone and watched him rush out of the room as he spoke. The medical examiner who had been silent all along suddenly spoke up.

    "Are you his apprentice?" He seemed genuinely interested. He was surprised when I answered negatively. "He took the time to exin the scene even though he had everything figured out. I assumed."

    The conversation seemingly ended there and I was quite relieved.

    "You''re a local? You know Seth Watson,"

    "I was his neighbor for some time," I informed him. His curiosity got the better of him.

    "We had a lot of reports about the demon girl living in the area. Was that you?" He asked jokingly. I was not amused.

    "Demon girl?" I heard Mr. Butler inject as he entered the room. "She might be a little alien, but she doesn''t seem to possess the grotesque nature of a demon."

    Ironic that he would call me an alien when he was the one with theck of social skills and a general sense of superiority over the rest of humanity. I''m pretty sure the sour look I gave him conveyed my thoughts perfectly.

    "You were living with your aunt for some time, right? I heard your story. Utterly surprised that you can handle being the apprentice."

    I kept quiet pretending not to hear the man. Mr. Butler also seemed preupied with a piece of paper he had found somewhere and was drawing on it. With my meager understanding of his personality, I was sure he had not heard the words the examiner had spouted.

    He looked up after a while and turned the page towards me. I looked at it in disbelief.

    "You''re saying this is the killing machine?" I pointed at the illustration knowing well that I would receive a sarcastic remark; hence, it was easy to ignore itpletely. The machine, though, was fascinating. The main structure consisted of a rectangle frame that hadrge des attached to every side. In theory, such a device is dropped on a body would cut through it in one go, producing simr angles of cutting and force.

    Yet in theory, it worked. In practice, the killer would have to target victims of simr height and build and do so by estimating their heights so that the n could work wlessly.

    Before the critique could slip out, I flipped through the autopsy file in my hand and went through each and every one.

    All the victims had simr height and build.

    Of course, every serial killer has a certain type of person they aim for, then why can they not vet ording to body type?

    "You''ve already informed Seth?" I was unsure as to how he would describe this thing over the phone.

    "Yes, des these sizes are monitored heavily and usually have strict importing and transportation regtion so there has to be some receipt or name in there that will help us find the killer."

    "That should narrow down the number of suspects considerably, but wouldn''trger producers selling at the market have use for these des?" I mumbled to myself.

    "Yes, but it would be a part-timer or someone that hasn''t been promoted recently who should be the killer. Once we get a list, it should be very easy for us to know who it is." I nodded. His corrtion made perfect sense.

    "Is there any way to identify the first victim?" I asked, suddenly remembering another big lead we had discovered that day.

    The examiner shook his head.

    "He''s got ill-fitting clothes and nothing much on him for identification. I''ll see if we can ID him from our missing person''s record or biometric imprint." Having expected as much, we moved on to checking the clothes, just to see if we could find anything valuable.

    Mr. Butler wanted to go back to the location where the bodies were disposed of. He was hoping that the police would have the information about the identity of the child and the people with permits to buy the parts for the machine.

    I had already checked in with Seth and asked about the progress on the investigation, but getting permits for the information took time and we didn''t have much of it until the recently abducted kid was killed. I simultaneously hunted for the number of the management team of the farmer''s market, hoping to get the contact and registration information on the people selling at the stalls. It was hours of work that I waspleting whilst inside the car, while Mr. Butler was strolling around the area, in deep thought.

    The man seemed tock the need for food, and I wasn''t very bothered by hunger either, so I kept working and checking up on the different sellers and the information on their employees, especially the ones who came to the market on a regr basis. It was a lot of information and it was easier done when processed in excel files and charts.

    We drove back to Mr. Butler''s cete that night, the information about the first victim and the des still not revealed. It was probable that the child''s disappearance was unreported, but something about the remnants of the clothes on the body bothered me.

    Mr. Butler had said nothing about it and I assumed that it was not important, but I couldn''t get it out of my head. Afterpiling the information, I sent the document to Mr. Butler hoping it would help him somehow.

    I heard his footstepsing towards the guestroom a few minutes after the mail had been sent.

    "You found out all of this yourself?" He enquired. He offered no greeting or apology for barging in without knocking on the door. I was leaning against the headboard, going through a book as he walked in. He didn''t seem fazed by my appearance, so I didn''t put much thought into changing my posture.

    "I''m surprised by how much I could find just by being polite." He squinted his eyes.

    "I am suspicious that you lied about why you needed the information."

    "It would have been difficult if they knew I was searching for a killer. It was easier telling them that I need the information for my dissertation." I smiled. "You''d be surprised by how cooperative people can be when ites to providing research material for students."

    "Mostly because they dream that it would boost their sales and reach," he interjected. I shrugged, having no objection to his opinion.

    That''s how markets work right? Sell more, make profit. Nothing wrong with that.

    "Good job. You never know. It may help us."

    Though done with the conversation, he stalled at the door. He wanted to say something else but went against his previous decision. He walked away, leaving me to my devices.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 20: Youve Solved the Case?

    Chapter 20: You''ve Solved the Case?

    My head was nted on the pillow, my eyes glued to the ceiling as I re-envisioned the body. There had to be something. Even with my meager understanding of the subject, the possibility of someone wearing clothes that fit them ''that'' poorly usually means something. As I thought about it, I felt my eyes drooping.

    If it was a miracle or just how tired I was, I don''t know, but for the first time in years, I fell into a sound sleep. No dreams haunted me. Nothing dragged me off my bed or grabbed my throat when I closed my eyes.

    When I woke up, I felt dread creep up my spine. As if lightning had struck me, the thought passed through my head.

    ''Dressed in borrowed robes.''

    All the tension left my body. In an instant, I felt like I had just returned from a battle, victorious. My breath wasborious, my palms mmy with sweat, and my eyes still unable to focus on my surroundings.

    The links quickly started forming in my head. The child must have been wearing someone else''s clothes. Going by the several concepts that Mr. Butler had exined to me in the past couple of days, I was sure that the link was closer to home to the killer. It was definitely someone he knew. Maybe, someone else who worked on the same farm? Or someone from his own family? It was possible.

    I was shaken by how motivated I felt to solve this. I felt the connection to the missing boys. I had been there, in the same dark hole, hoping that someone would rescue me. I knew what they thought. I knew what they felt. And how could I not help them? How could I not try?

    This human connection was something I was forgotten. Being able to understand what others felt, not calcte their reactions, was new to me. I quickly slid off the bed and changed clothes. The time was perfect. As I rushed down the stairs towards the entrance, I saw Mr. Butler sipping on his cup of tea. He spared me a nce. He looked tired, but still somehow enthusiastic.

    "Are you going somewhere?" he asked, a small smile ying across his lips.

    "The market is open today and I want to see if what I am thinking is a possibility." I didn''t want to tell him my theory. I didn''t want him to take away from me the little reassurance I could get by doing something.

    "Won''t you share it with me?" It surprised me that he didn''t seem to ask the question in a way that would force me to answer him. It was as if he wanted to know why I wouldn''t tell him.

    "I can be wrong," I said in a low voice.

    "Yes, you could be." Was all he said. I stared at him for a moment before finding the right words.

    "Why don''t you ask me what I theorized?"

    "I will be heading over to the police station soon," he said as he got up from his seat. He leaned over to pick up a paper and handed walked over to hand it to me. "This should help you a little."

    "You''ve solved the case?" The surprise in my voice made him burst out intoughter. It was the first time I had seen him do that. I was slightly taken aback.

    "You seem to be very close to solving it, yourself. How could I let myself lose to you?" his carefree words were equivalent to a pat on the shoulder. "Now, go. Early bird gets the worms."

    He strolled away.

    His permission was all I needed. I had already taken the car out and driving away. I saw Mr. Butler standing at the front door with what seemed like a satisfied expression on his face. I didn''t think much of it then.

    The drive wasically fast. It was possibly my excitement and anxiety that made the ride such a blur, but soon I was near my destination and turning off the engine. I looked over the information and cross-referenced it with the documents Seth had sent over. I marked out the shop numbers and quickly made my way through the crowds.

    There were quite a few people already shopping despite the early hour and some stores were still setting up their stalls. As I made my way through the list, I felt a deep passion for the meaningless conversations I was engaging in. There was a purpose behind this act. I was speaking because it was necessary for me to get this information from another person.

    I understood the importance the meaning behind the consequences of the act I was performing.

    Yet nothing was out of ce. Everything was peaceful. The smiles of the possible suspects were sincere. There was no monstrosity in their gazes.

    No one was missing.

    No one had run away.

    I was almost towards the end of the list when I passed across a middle-aged man scolding one of his workers. This stall was definitely on the list, but I didn''t know how to approach them when they were in the middle of the conversation.

    So I walked up to the stall and started looking around for some vegetables. Well, I thought that even if the trip was unfruitful, I coulde out of it with fresh groceries.

    "May I help you?" I heard a soft, male voice ask. I looked up and saw the guy.

    Average height, average build, average facial attractiveness. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his brows furrowed, forming creases on his forehead. His voice and eyes, though, were maic. I could tell that he wasn''t particrly outspoken, but clearly, he had some gravity.

    "I don''t like the cabbages here, do you have any others?" I asked politely. Frankly, I hadn''t even looked at the cabbages carefully to know if they were good or bad.

    There was something gnawing at me from the moment I looked at him. My gut told me that I had found the man, but my mind told me that I needed more information. I needed to see if my logic was correct.

    "We might have some at the back. Let me find something good for you." The smile he gave me was courteous but pleasant. My eyes followed his figure until he had disappeared.

    I, then, refocused on the elder man who still seemed to be fuming. I greeted him and as expected, this troubled man unburdened his anger.

    "I shouldn''t have taken in the brothers. Alwaysining about how hard work is, how they need a raise." He huffed. While the man wasn''t talking to me, directly, I could hear what he was saying very clearly.

    "Are you okay?" I asked, forming my expression into that of worry. "You seem troubled," I added. The gleam of wonder overtook his eyes. He had found someone whom he could talk to.

    "Ah, just worried about that kid." He pointed towards the direction where the man had disappeared. "He has been so odd for the past couple of years." He stopped and pondered.

    "His dad was abusive, so he ran away with his brother and started working at my ce. And it was all fine until the brother ran away."

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 21: I Can Handle It

    Chapter 21: I Can Handle It

    "Now he is so flighty. Always tells me that he is sick of the job."

    "Ran away?" I asked surprised. The elder man nodded. "How long ago? Didn''t you report him missing?" I knew nothing about the existence of this so-called brother.

    "He had been telling everyone how much he hated living at the farm and that he wanted out. It was a matter of time before he ran away I fear this one will pack up and leave soon, too." He huffed.

    I silently stood as the man busied himself, asking me if I needed anything else. Still waiting for other guy, I hung out.

    He did have a good cabbage in his hands and as he showed it to me I saw his eyes sh towards something past me. I saw his expression change and as he stumbled backward.

    A quick nce over the shoulder revealed cops in uniform making their way towards the stall. Sensing what came next, I snapped back to look at him. The usation in my eyes must have alerted him. He bolted. As fast as the wind, I saw him getting further and further away.

    I heard shouting from everywhere.

    I couldn''t let him go free.

    My body moved as if it had been prepared for the chase. I glided through the crowd, faces shing by, mumbles and grumbles of people I push away to make way. In the distance, I could see him getting further. I pushed through faster, my feet stinging as I got closer and closer to him.

    ''I must not let him go.''

    ''I must not let him go.''

    ''I must not let him go.''

    The crowd parted in front of me. It was possibly my expression and lithe form which reeked of danger. At that moment, I was a dangerous being. I had locked onto my prey. I was going to bite.

    And I was not going to let go.

    He was my prey.

    ''Mine.''

    He needed to be punished for the pain he inflicted.

    He had to die for his crimes.

    My body collided into his with brutal force. He stumbled but kept bnce. His arms swung away, trying to aim for my head, but I had already delivered a crushing blow to his stomach. He doubled over, reaching out his hand in surrender.

    ''But why? Why should I stop? He deserves the pain. He deserves it ten thousand times over.''

    I grabbed onto the offending limb, pulling him closer. He managed to hit me on my side. My blood boiled as I felt the pain seeping through my bones.

    ''Die.''

    ''Die.''

    ''Die.''

    I was screaming inside. My voice drowning out all rational thought. I pinned him to the ground in one motion. I trapped him to the ground with my leg and secured his hand behind him. Taking a sudden decision, I stood on his back with one foot and pulled on his arm.

    ''Why not just tear him from limb to limb? Just like he did to them.''

    And it sounded like the perfect n. Punishment must be delivered.

    I heard a distant voice call me.

    "Evie!" called the oddly familiar voice.

    "Evie!" My head snapped towards the source. As my eyes focused, rational thought rushed back to my head.

    "It''s okay, we''re just going to cuff him. He won''t run away." I looked between the figure of Mr. Butler and the murderer I had under me.

    There were people rushing towards me.

    No rushing towards the killer. And he was being taken away from me.

    The sound of cuffs being put on, the sound of protest, and the sound of footstepsing towards me assaulted my senses.

    "You were right." I felt a hand on my shoulder. I shivered and moved away instantly. We stood face to face, silent. My eyes were glued to the floor, head hung in shame as I realized that I had almost given in to the monster.

    "You came," I whispered. My voice sounded hoarselike I had run through a desert.

    "I couldn''t lose to you. You did well. The other team rescued the kid. He is safe."

    "He is safe?"

    "He is safe." I finally looked up at him. "You did so well today." The praise made me tremble. My heart constricted in my chest.

    Had he not seen me nning to kill that man? Had he not seen me trying to rip his arm from his body? Had he not read in my eyes how I had sumbed to the darkness? How could he pat me on the back and tell me how well I had done? How could he ignore the signs when the monster was standing right in front of him?

    "I asked someone to take you home. Would you mind handing me the key?" I struggled to understand him.

    "Will you not go back with me?" my voice trembled.

    ''Please don''t leave me.''

    ''Please don''t let me slip.''

    "You need to get some sleep. I have an errand to run," he exined gently.

    ''Gentle.''

    I did not associate that word with the man standing in front of me. His tall structure, the nearness of his body, and his lulling voice had almost lured me into dropping my guard.

    "Are you going to the dungeon?"

    He sighed.

    "I will go with you," I pled.

    ''Don''t leave me.''

    "Okay."

    He took my hand in his and led me away from the crowd. People stared as I passed. I quivered at their horrified gazes.

    ''They know,'' I gasped.

    I felt Sebastian''s hand squeeze mine. I concentrated on the warmth, the feeling of human connection.

    The slow drive to our destination, the cool breeze on my face, and the abnormalck of stares from Sebastian they bothered me.

    He pulled up in front of a dpidated housingplex. I looked over to him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

    "Stay here," I heard him say when I reached over to open the door to my side. I turned to him with a sullen expression.

    "Why, you showed me the body. Surely you would not have a problem showing me the location the crimes took ce." My words would have sounded firm if not for the slight tremor in my voice.

    His face marred with reluctance.

    "I can handle anything you throw at me," I told him, putting on what I hoped was a stern face. I didn''t want to be left behind.

    He looked at me with an expression I couldn''t recognize, but my gut told me that he was searching for something.

    "Okay," he mumbled. He quickly exited the car and waited for me to make my way to him. He was awfullyposed. All signs of worry that shone on his face previously were wiped clean.

    The sound of cameras shuttering and the scratchy noise of stic crime scene shoes filled the hallway to the apartment. As we passed the policemen I saw them bow their heads towards us in acknowledgment. I ignored them as best as I could.

    "You''vepleted taking the crime scene photos?" What the other person said, I don''t know, but I saw Mr. Butler nod his head at the man and make for him to leave the hallway.

    His hand pressed on the door and as he was about to push it open, I heard him speak.

    "It''s not toote to go back." I mulled over his words.

    What could be in there that could be worse than what I had already done? The remnants of bodies? Stters of blood all over the walls? It was something I had experienced before.

    "I can handle it." He gave me a nod and then pushed the door open.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 22: The Monster is Back

    Chapter 22: The Monster is Back

    The stench overwhelmed me.

    It was oddly familiar. The smell of spoiled food, urine, and fecal matter. I pressed my hand against my nose to block out the intense wave of nausea I felt rolling through my body. My gut clenched as I took my first step in.

    Mr. Butler had moved aside to make room from me.

    I looked around the room from where I stood. I could see every corner. There was no one lurking in the shadows. There were no hidden traps ready to hurt me. I let out an involuntary sigh as I took another step forward.

    The rush of nausea slowly dissipated and I felt power course through my veins.

    Why did he kill those people?

    What motivated him?

    Bottles and packets of snacks were strewn all over the ground. If I hadn''t known better, I would have thought it was a college dorm and nothing more. The small one bedroom t was not enough for the murderer to havemitted a crime in. Yet, he had somehow managed to do it.

    I could see the kitchen. A concoction that seemed to be bubblingy on the countertop, presenting a grim image of the condition of the person who had been living there. It had to be a couple of weeks old.

    My eyes flitted towards the kitchen tools. The rack with all the knives was empty. A fineyer of dust had umted over it.

    "Did he use any knives to hurt the victims?" I deadpanned.

    "No."

    ''Then why are they gone?''

    There was a high powered grinder on the same counter, which seemed to have been used recently.

    He has no sharp objects in his house. He eats pre-cooked meals or blends them and consumes them.

    I moved away.

    "Will he be questioned?" I asked in a small voice.

    "The evidence against him is overwhelming but he will definitely be interrogated and a psychiatrist will be evaluating him." This was said matter-of-factly.

    "He is trying not to kill himself," I whispered.

    "I couldn''t hear you."

    "HE''S TRYING NOT TO KILL HIMSELF!" And it sounded more like a question in my ears.

    "Yes. He will be watched. He will not have the opportunity to escape punishment." I felt a lump in my throat forming. It grew bigger, choking me.

    The questions overwhelmed me. I had so much to ask. I needed answers.

    "Come," he beckoned me further.

    The bedroom.

    The door was ajar. The stench had changed. It was no longer filth. It smelled like torture.

    Something hanging from the ceiling swayed gently. The sound of chains broke me out of my reverie. I looked up to see sharp des forming a box.

    "This is where he kept them locked." Mr. Butler had a strange expression in his eyes. He leaned over to a trunk kept in the corner of the room and unbolted it. It squeaked open, the rust making a deafening noise.

    In ity a long rope: dirty and bloody.

    The filthy mutt had not even had the civility to wipe the room clean.

    The blood had dried on the table. The death machine hanging overhead was clean. It grated on my nerves. It wasn''t new blood it was old weeks, months old blood. The putrid color stood out against the dark wood of the execution table.

    "Do you want to experience it for yourself?" I started. I turned to look at Mr. Butler, who had his hands on the long chain keeping the machine hanging from the ceiling. The pulley squeaked at the touch.

    "Death?"

    "No, how it feels to let go of the chain." His eyes were glued to mine.

    "No," I barked. "Never."

    Who was I trying to convince? Myself?

    "Are you sure?"

    "Yes," I answered firmly.

    "Then getfortable." He removed his hand from the chain and left the room. I wondered if I was supposed to follow him.

    There was no bed in the apartment, only an old couch in the living room. That must have where he slept in peace as his victims struggled to breathe in that locked trunk. He must have been watching TV as those children prepared themselves for death.

    What must it have felt like to be tied to that table, vulnerable, waiting for death?

    I looked at the execution table, wild curiosity wing at me.

    In a moment of madness, I reached over to the table and pressed my palm against it. The cold surface made my palm itch. I slowly faced away from it and made the decision.

    ''I was going to do it.'' I touched my back to the table, ced my palms on it and propped myself up. Not letting myself back out, Iy down.

    I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

    Everything will be okay.

    I was greeted with a sense of vulnerability when I opened my eyes. Something was amiss. The feeling of being tied down overtook my senses.

    I lurched forward, but my body remained stationary. My hands were bound to the side, my legs equally secured.

    I had not thought it possible for me to feel like crying, but the question of how I had ended up being tied down disgruntled me.

    "You really are stupid." I heard someone taunt. I gasped as I felt a feathery touch on my arm, but I saw no one there.

    ''Help!''

    "You dare ignore me?" I heard it again. This time it was a growl. It was unlike anything I had heard before. But the direction of the voice had changed. I whipped my head towards the direction to catch a glimpse of the culprit.

    No one.

    No one was there.

    "Help," I crocked. "Help." I struggled. The restraints dug into my flesh. My body had grown unustomed to such terrible fear, to the repulsive grip of ropes on my limbs.

    "No one can help you now." And this time I saw the person.

    Her brown hair flowed to her waist, it was knotted in ces, her hands were dirty, her ck eyes bloodshot. There was something eerily familiar with her. Her bones jutted out as she grabbed onto the chain dangling beside her.

    She slowly started unwinding it, right in front of my eyes.

    "Why?" I cried.

    ''Why did he leave me alone?''

    "Because you didn''t obey me!" the girl screamed. Her taut skin stretched over mouth as she gaped at me. The re she fixed at me froze me. I didn''t struggle.

    "I will not obey you."

    With a furious scream, she let the chain go. My eyes went to the machine hanging over me.

    Time slowed down.

    As did my breathing.

    I waited for it.

    Greeted it.

    I screwed my eyes shut as I waited for the force.

    My body jolted.

    I felt no pain.

    There was no pain.

    There were no restraints.

    There was no girl.

    The chandelier still squeaked overhead.

    The sound of rhythmic footsteps outside hadn''t changed.

    The monster was back.

    And she was going to kill me.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 23: He Protected Me

    Chapter 23: He Protected Me

    "What are you doing?" I heard Mr. Butler ask. I craned my neck and saw him standing at the door, staring at me.

    "Just trying to see how the victim must have felt," I told him with confidence. It had taken me quite some time to feel the panic ebb away and my heart to settle. But Mr. Butler had been suspiciously walking around the apartment, noting in to bother me.

    "I advice you not to understand the perspective of the victim." His brow was arched as he said this. "Neither do I want you to picture yourself as the killer," he raised his finger to silence me.

    "It is easy to slip into one of those roles, especially if you connect to them. But a someone viewing the scene, you need to be objective. The purpose of this visit is not only to collect evidence, but also to assess the motivation and psychological condition of the murderer during the time he was on his spree. This information can''t always be taken from the criminal as they have a skewed perception of their self and the circumstances surrounding the serial murders." He paused for a bit to make sure that I had followed what he was saying.

    "By identifying with the victim, you are demonizing the murderer"

    "But he is a monsterhe killed people." I interrupted him.

    "Yes, he is a murderer. But when you are reading a book you recognize the nuances of each character and why they do the things they do. Here, your role is to be the audience. You can only obverse. Your role is to understand the crime and the consequences of it. You are not responsible for what happened and you are not responsible for punishing anyone who is harming others." His rant was over.

    "Even if I can help?"

    "Of course, you can help, but jumping into a situation without understanding how grave it could turn, how dangerous it could be for you is also important. You are simply one person out of the many who are fit to provide help. And it is not your job to save everyone. It is not my job to save everyone. We can do only as much as we are given permission to."

    "I want to leave," I told him curtly.

    He did not reply. He simply followed me out.

    I cringed in disgust as I removed the stic footwear and gloves. I brushed my arm and saw residue from the table had clung on to my clothes, producing a gruesome picture. I grabbed at it and tried to eliminate it.

    ''Out!''

    The furious scrubbing gave way to gentle brushes on the fabric.

    "I need to take a shower." I heard Mr. Butler hum in agreement.

    "I am not dirty. I just don''t like the ce."

    ''That''s all.''

    He didn''t pester me or call me out on the smears on my clothes when I got into the car. He didn''t even nce at me as I leaned into the seat and took a shuddering breath.

    He knew everything that had transpired, but he had not said a single word in anger. He had not reprimanded me for losing myself in the market. He had not reprimanded me for behaving so peculiarly. He must have seen through me.

    He must have.

    "Why do I need permission to save someone?" I was looking out of the window as the words escaped my lips. I had not meant to say them out loud, but I felt at peace when I unburdened it.

    "Because this permissiones with an acknowledgment of how well you can assess situations. Ites with years of training and understanding of the criminal. You need permission because without it you would do no one any good. Not those people who need your help or yourself. All you will do is kick yourself for not being able to do what you have intended to."

    "And I can let it inspire me to improve," I fought.

    "No, it will turn you incapable of seeing reality. It would make you fault yourself for not doing the right thing. You will hurt."

    ''I don''t want to hurt.''

    "You are not the problem, Evie," he said suddenly after a long moment of silence. "You are simply in a problem and you need help getting out of it." He nced at me to see if I was listening to him.

    ''But I am the problem.''

    "You are not the problem," he repeated, reading my mind. "I will drop you home."

    I sat silently by his side, wondering how much he knew.

    "Come over to my ce if you need to, at any time." I looked around to see that we had already reached the apartment that I was staying in.

    "Thank you. I don''t think I will be going over." I told him pointedly.

    "Drink some warm milk, wrap yourself in a nket and try to get some sleep. The first crime scene can be overwhelming." He seemed unbothered by my deration.

    "I won''t be needing your help."

    "Ah, there are some official matters we need to resolve before I can free you from your obligations. I will call you." He ushered me out and waited as I made my way across the street and into the building. I looked back to see the car standing there, waiting for me to go inside.

    I waved my arm at him even though I was embarrassed. I rushed away and entered the apartment.

    Everything felt so foreign.

    Everything felt so cold.

    Mr. Butler''s words yed over and over in my mind as I red at the wall.

    I got up at anguid pace and dragged myself to the kitchen. A ss of milk and nket apanied me to bed.

    Haunting images of the girl shed before my eyes.

    I had seen this face before in the mirror.

    Years ago.

    And I had dreaded this day.

    I cuddled into the pillow, trying to concentrate on the warmth of the milk now residing in my stomach. I slowly faded into darkness as I tried to ignore the prickling sensation of being watched or being touched.

    I breathed heavier.

    My eyes drooped.

    And I thanked Mr. Butler for protecting me.

    "You are not the problem." He had said. And he had believed it.

    I wanted to believe it, too. How long would it take me to get there?

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 24: In The Killers Dollhouse

    Chapter 24: In The Killer''s Dollhouse

    Dreams can be of many types- it can take you to ces you have never imagined, it can dive into your subconscious and manifest in the form of your deepest repressed desires, or it could simply behold to you memories that you try to suppress with every thread of your being. It reveals to you the essence of your existence.

    My dreams don''t reflect ces that I have never seen. They don''t reveal my deepest repressed desires. Instead, they rey my past; in painful detail, I relive my torment.

    The passions I had felt, the pain of being abandoned, the pain of having to turn on people who you were surviving with. These momentse back in stark rity.

    I remember the time I had woken up, eyes bleary, throat aching from dryness. Terror gripped me as memories flooded back to me. The pool of blood under my mother''s body, the sound of violent stabbing, and the regret I felt for having abandoned my family when I should have run out and tried to protect them.

    In my dream, I revisited the dreary grey room, a mammoth structure which loomed over its prisoners. The sounds of the rattling chain, the wails, and groans of the others littered all over the vast room came back to me.

    As my eyes adjusted to the dim lights, I squeaked out a protest. The room seemed toe alive, with low murmurs and pleas for help. I realized where I was, what I had turned onto. From that day on, I would not be treated as human, just a pig ready to be ughtered at their owner''s pleasure. And this room was the pen, the pen where all Alice''s toys were promptly set up and left for her to return to when she was bored.

    And she was bored often.

    There were infants.

    There were elderly couples locked up together, sitting in ufortable chairs.

    There were toddlers.

    There were high schoolers.

    White cor workers.

    Businesswomen.

    There was no pattern to her choice. They came and they went.

    No, that was not the best way to put the situation.

    There were people brought in before I arrived, but they didn''tst very long. There were those that came after me, but they, too, didn''tst very long. Though time was ungraspable in captivity, it felt like an eternity had passed since I had other people in the room with me. It was a strange sense offort.

    Alice allowed me to speak to them, she praised me for how caring and gentle I was. She made me reassure them that everything would be alright, that they would get out of that hellhole very soon, but I was never able to answer their questions.

    "How long have you been here?" a ten-year-old girl had asked. I had not had the chance to ask for her name. She had not the mind to ask for mine. As she cried for her parents, I remember telling her that someone will find us, and her question baffled me.

    How long had I been there? It could have been mere days. It could have been years, for all I knew and her questionedy with trepidation.

    ''You were here before me. Why haven''t they found you yet?''

    And it was true. There was no one to search for me. No one remained in this world that would actually care about me. But this girl had been taken from her home as she wasing back from school, something Alice had meticulously nned out. And chance was on her side.

    "Because I had to be here for you," I told her sluggishly. The conversation dragged on, with her telling me that she wanted to be a veterinary doctor, how much she loved her pet hamster and that her father was the best one in the world. I smiled through it, encouraging her to speak, to forget the fear.

    I could do nothing more to help her.

    Alice grew bored with the girl very soon. Apparently, she was too noisy. She started taking pieces of her soon. Thank god she used sedatives on the child. I cannot imagine such a sweet girl having to go through such excruciating pain.

    This was the third death I had seen since Alice brought me there. I felt d for them, that their suffering had stopped.

    I wondered what it would feel like to be dead. It would be more peaceful, I imagined, but death didn''te to me.

    I soon realized that death came in a pattern. Alice liked weaving stories, creating images of the tortured family, but she grew bored with ying with the dolls in her dollhouse.

    She grew bored when I spoke to them and listened to them confess to their gravest sins and simple facts of their lives. Once she knew who they were, the perfect character she had built in her mind around them shattered. She grew angry at them for disillusioning her. And she sliced them open bit by bit as punishment. I didn''t know what she did with their bodies, but that too soon became clear to me.

    She set up a portable kitchen in the room. It was within the eyesight of the people captive in it. She had all the fancy utensils people have in their kitchens. She started sharpening her tools in front of me one day.

    She had a gleeful smile stered on her face throughout. It unsettled me.

    Mypanion that day was an elderly couple. They seemed resigned to their fate. They had spent fifty years married to each other, had kids who had grown up to be distinguished individuals, but they lived alone in a gatedmunity until their abduction.

    "The Lord will protect you," the sweet woman told me while she was there.

    I had understood that speaking to them just lessened their chance of survival. I had not spoken in a while. I didn''t remember what food I had been served, but I did remember the tears rolling down my face as I imagined my innocent grandparents being ughtered. They had lived until a ripe age, they were prepared for death. But what was this ending? What did they deserve to be punished so?

    Alice was gentle on them. She killed them with a single blow each.

    As theyy limp near me, I wondered what had caused her to be so merciful to them.

    "Oh, old age. I respect those that live uneventful lives and remain happy," she sighed as she closed in the space between us. "Do you know why I killed them, though?" I refused to answer her.

    "Stop being so stubborn," she whined. "You''re no fun."

    I didn''t want to be any fun for her. The more interest she gained in me, the harder she tried to break me.

    She just couldn''t find my story; I didn''t break character, so she kept me.

    But I wanted to break character and I had finally decided to do just that.

    So I defied her. I fought her to the fullest.

    "I''ll tell you the answer, anyway," she chirped. "I want to cook you a wonderful meal today and I was an ingredient short. Food is a priority, right?" she giggled as she skipped away.

    I stared at her back in horror and she approached the couple with a butcher knife.

    I couldn''t believe my eyes. I couldn''t even close them.

    I stared and stared.

    I screamed as I saw her detach limb from limb and ce them on a te she had brought with her. She went on to scrape the meat from the bones and clean it out with her hands.

    "Don''t worry, I will wash the blood off," she told me.

    But what did that mean?

    "Remember, Evie. You must cook your meal in a sanitary manner."

    As she walked back to the portable kitchen I saw her wrap some of her carvings into a box and store it forter.

    I remember the distinct smell of her cooking. I remember how she wretched my mouth open and forced forkful of her ''meal'' into my mouth. I remember the churning of my gut, the stench of puke and the feeling of stickiness on my skin as she made me eat every single piece of meat she had cooked.

    I remember herughing and telling me that I was pretending not to enjoy the unique taste. That I was just like her, a little girl with a big appetite.

    I remember her eyes as she red at me when I refused to hold the fork. I remember the feeling ofshes on my back, my thighs, the color of blood soaking through the white shirt she put me in ever so often.

    I remember shakily taking the spoon and wailing as I tried to stomach it all, as I tried to not be in pain.

    I hated the pain.

    I really hated it.

    I just wanted it to end.

    "Please kill me," I begged her one day when I saw her taking out a limb wrapped in stic.

    "What''s the fun in that? I want you to try my cooking, I am just learning and I need someone to give me tips."

    ''Why me?'' I kept asking myself.

    "Now, we will defrost the meat and then you will help me prepare the ingredients," I remember sobbing as I protested. I remember her slicing at my arm with the knife she was cutting the vegetables with. I remember her mixing salt with water and my eyes widening in horrified anticipation.

    The drops felt like death.

    I gave in.

    She handed me the bloodied knife she had hurt me with. She made me chop carrots and onions with it. I tasted a disgusting metallic tang in the food that day.

    And that was only the beginning.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 25: It Was Good Knowing You

    Chapter 25: It Was Good Knowing You

    I sometimes wonder if others wake up like me, shaking, gasping for breath as I try to return to my current reality. Being trapped in my past in the dreams that gue me created a ghastly vagueness between reality and imagination, yet there was nothing imaginary about what I was seeing. A psychiatrist once told me that I was not reliving my trauma but just exaggerating it in my dreams, that I was cing people I didn''t know, that sleeping and routine was the only way I could feel better. He didn''t realize that every word I said was reality; he couldn''tprehend that something so uncanny was possible in our banal lives. My life was anything but banal, I had forgotten the meaning of the word in practice, what is banality when every physical act youmit is a chore, a hardship that you must ovee. How is banality a way of life when I have to look over my shoulders and struggle to understand the problems of others? I had lost apathy: how was it possible to feel more pain that I had? Who had watched as people got butchered to death in front of them? How does one recover from that? They don''t. They just survive.

    I found that I was wrapped into a burrito. I felt panic seep through my bones as I felt the sheet restrain me. Silence greeted me. I took a shuddered breath as I tried to calm down.

    ''All was okay, nothing is going to happen to me,'' I told myself. After about a couple hundred repetitions, I started to believe myself.

    I slid out of the bed and moved towards the kitchen and got myself a ss of water. My phone rang in the other room as I stretched my limbs. I was sluggish as I moved to pick it up. Mr. Butler''s voice greeted me from the other side.

    "Miss Lewis, I feel abandoned," I heard him say. I was stunned for words.

    Abandoned? What had I done to make him feel that way?

    But was that mirth I heard in his voice?

    I remembered him leading me with his hands wrapped around mine, the warmth of his body making me feel safe when I was out of control, when I was ready to give into the monster. I felt great respect and gratitude for his efforts.

    "Is there something wrong, Mr. Butler?" I asked, knowing better than to trust my instincts at the moment.

    "Nothing, really. I have been texting and calling you for the past one and a half day to no avail," he sounded like he was pouting. I felt a small smile spread across my lips as I listened to his voice. A shroud of brightness enveloped me.

    "I just woke up," I let him know.

    There was silence on the other side.

    "I am d you got some sleep." He paused again. "I have sent you something, it is in the mailbox. Make sure to take it in when you feel like going out." It seemed like he was holding something back.

    "Did youe by, Mr. Butler?" I heard a cough from him.

    "Was there something you needed?" I asked softly. He must have knocked on the door and rang the doorbell but not caught my attention. He must have realized I was either sleeping or didn''t want to see anyone. Thank god he had not called the cops and broken the door down.

    "Yes, the investigation is over, the arrest warrant came out, he was analyzed by a psychologist and questioned. The recording is in your mailbox." I paused.

    "I don''t want to listen to them, Mr. Butler. I don''t think I should involve myself in this any longer." My body had grown cold. I felt suffocated that he wanted my further involvement.

    "I understand."

    "Do you need me toe over?" I asked.

    "No, please take rest. I will be in contact if I need more trantions done. Will that be okay, Miss Lewis?"

    ''Yes.''

    "I-" I stopped to think.

    ''I don''t want his tests. I don''t want his poetic words of madness... I don''t want the graphic pictures to go with his words. I don''t want any of them.''

    "I join my new ce of employment in a few weeks, Mr. Butler. I don''t think I will have the time to do any frence work." My words were prompt. There was no way he would not understand that I was unwilling to work with him.

    "I''m sorry to hear that, Miss Lewis."

    "I am sorry"

    "Don''t be. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Lewis. May you prosper and find your way. I am sure you will excel in whatever you choose to do. You are a great talent." I could hear the underlying words, but I was happy that he had not pressed me forced me to admit to anything.

    ''It was good knowing you,'' I could hear in his words. ''You would be wonderful in my field of study,'' the narcissistic part of my brain said in his stead.

    ''Will we never meet again?''

    The thought came to me in a sh.

    I stopped myself.

    There was no use of depending on anyone.

    There was no profit in getting friendly with people when you knew you were incapable of giving them any benefits.

    There was no way that Mr. Butler would have the leisure or inclination to continue meeting someone who served him no purpose. He was a rational man.

    "Thank you," I croaked. "I-" he cut me off.

    "I have already made the payment for your week and you should have received a message from your bank already," there was no malice in his voice. He wasn''t offended by my rejection. "Please let me know if there is any problem."

    "Or I could call Alec." I was shocked by myself.

    ''Stop it, Evie. What are you saying?''

    "Yes, you could call Alec."

    I didn''t know the feeling behind those words, but I was terribly sorry for the mimunication. "Take care, Miss Lewis."

    ''Yes,'' I said in my head. I heard the dial tone.

    He had hung up.

    Iy back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

    Another chapter of my life ended.

    I would have to go back to my life.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 26: Yearning

    Chapter 26: Yearning

    The city was as busy as always. I was apanying a group of seven tourists around. They were the rich Asians that were shown in movies. The families hade to City M to go to various universities for their open campus days; they were ''choosing'' which graduate school would suit them best. It seemed that it was more of a vacation for them. On the sly, I heard them discussing which university they should invest in. I was rather disgusted by the method they were about to use to get their kid into university. I knew for a fact that they didn''t know I could speak theirnguage as they were very vocally speaking about me. Some of the younger boys in the group seemed ignorant of the inappropriateness of their words.

    I had helped them visit the sightseeing locations across the state and finallye back to the city where I resided. Today, we were headed towards my alma mater. I was not sure if I would be allowed in so I had called ahead of time to make sure.

    Apparently, I am a VIP of sorts on campus. No one knows why.

    Possibly because I had continued to work frence in my spare time and make some much needed extra cash that I was stowing away in my emergency fund. ording to the elderly bank teller, not many youngsters these days think about emergencies or invest in their future endeavors. It was a mantra of a sort for me, make money, eat well, live a banal life and live for a very long time.

    As we entered university, I heard the snickers from the younger generation, the awe of seeing a campus that size, them checking out other students andmenting on the ''excellent quality'' of the campus. The parents seemed enthusiastic; they chirped among themselves about the infinite possibilities their children would have if they joined the university.

    It was a brilliant university, no doubt, but I couldn''t understand what all the fuss was about.

    I was greeted by the faces of juniors who seemed excited and asked me about my job. They were perplexed by why I didn''t apply for a more serious job.

    Rmendations were made to the central government to employ me as a trantor, but I wasn''t meant for that life. It was too high pressure, too unforgiving for me. And in this way, months had passed since I graduated.

    Life was uneventful.

    "When will we be arriving at the faculty ofw?" one of the anxious individuals in the group chirped. I turned and politely told them the time estimate.

    As we approached our destination, I saw a familiar figure creeping out of one of the buildings.

    Department of Criminology.

    I heaved a breath as I took in his appearance.

    He hadn''t seen me yet.

    He was wearing a grey suit. I took in his features as I neared him.

    His hair glowed red in the sunlight. I saw streaks of copper and bronze merged into the fiery color. Before, I had never paid attention to how he stood out. There was no turning away from him. His hair would catch your eyes, they would stun you, but his features were just as striking. His usually clean shaved face had the shadow of a rustic beard lingering on his chin. I staggered as I tried to move away from his line of sight.

    I don''t know why I did it, but it made me stand out further.

    It wasn''t that I didn''t want to see him, I had thought about him sometimes since summer, but I had never thought that I would meet him ever again. I had his number, his email everything, but it didn''t cross my mind that we would coincidentally meet on this huge campus one sunny day.

    He stopped in his track and came towards me. It was almost as if I could see recognition sh in his eyes.

    "Evie?" he called out. I sucked in a breath as I flickered my gaze back on him. I gulped as he neared.

    "Mr. Butler," I squeaked. I extended my hand hoping that he would let me retain my dignity.

    "What are you doing here?" he said once his feet were nted in front of mine. "I thought you had a new job." He sounded confused, and it was obvious. Guides were not supposed to enter campus grounds. They had students for that.

    I heard mumbling from behind me, both men and women alike.

    I paid no attention to them.

    Mr. Butler fixed his sses. He had never worn sses before, so it took me by surprise. He noticed my stare and smiled.

    "I had to stare at theptop screen all day so I wear these anti-re sses." I blinked.

    ''His eyes are green.''

    I shook my head internally to stop the train of thought.

    ''God, his eyes are pretty. How had I not noticed them before?''

    "I am here for work." I choked out.

    Why I was being so nervous around him, I don''t know, but I didn''t like how happy I was to see him again.

    "You ended up working at the tourismpany?"

    I nodded.

    "It has been about six months. I am primarily working within the city, but I think I will be sent outside very soon." I paused.

    I looked at him baffled.

    ''Why are we talking in Mandarin?'' I wondered.

    And then I understood. There wasplete silence behind me. I turned to see the wide-eyed tourists.

    I had been busted. They now knew that I had understood every word they had said and I was mortified. Even they looked a bit ashamed.

    "What''s wrong?" Mr. Butler injected.

    "Nothing, Mr. Butler just" he scrunched his brow as he saw me struggle.

    "Sebastian," he injected.

    I started.

    "Urm Sebastian" I croaked out, unused to the feeling of his name on my tongue. "They didn''t know I could speak theirnguage," Iughed nervously.

    He nodded, a sly look shing across his eyes as he looked past me.

    Perplexed, I looked back towards the crowd to see the rude boys looking anywhere but meeting our eyes.

    Instantly, I understood what had happened.

    "I have to get going," I told him. I sounded dejected even to myself.

    He smiled and moved aside, making way for the group.

    I stayed silent as I passed him. And then when I was farther away, I began chatting with the others in English again.

    My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out as the group was talking to a college student.

    Sebastian.

    It was Sebastian.

    ''I am d you are enjoying your work. But I hope you will stay safe.'' He had texted me.

    I scrunched my brow as I tried to discern his words.

    Whispered words floated into my ears.

    "I think he heard us talking about the guide. Do you think she heard us?"

    ''What had they said?'' I wondered.

    "Safe to say we won''t be getting any tonight," one of them joked. I froze on spot.

    He must have heard their remarks. And he must have been meaning to protect me in a small way.

    I grew warm.

    I let my fingers fly over the keypad.

    ''Thank you. I will take care.'' I sent it.

    In a moment of impulse, I send him a text asking him to stay safe.

    In afterthought, he was someone who was equipped to ovee difficulties.

    His words came back to me again.

    People with the knowledge set capable of helping others.

    Sebastian Butler had the knowledge to dissect the minds of criminals and ensure that they get put behind bars. He had the authority, the presence to demand that he be taken seriously. He had the skills to save lives.

    And here I was, crying and feeling sorry for being incapable even though I had not tried to achieve this goal this pursuit of knowledge.

    I stubbed the idea as it came to me. There was no use entangling myself in that frame of mind. I was better off living as far away from the morbid Mr. Butler as possible.

    I sighed as I went about my job again.

    I couldn''t wait to get home and forget about the day.

    That night I dreamt of my family, but this time the copper hair and green eyes featured prominently. I saw him watching from far away as my family was ughtered. I saw him sitting beside me as I curled up in the bathroom hoping to survive.

    There was nofort in him being there. Just yearning.

    It would have been so much better if he was the one taking on the case all those years ago.

    Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn''t have suffered so much.

    Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn''t have let it fuck my life up.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 27: Be My Assistant

    Chapter 27: Be My Assistant

    Life was silent. I was climbing thedder at work at a fast pace, I had got a raise after working for six months and was sent to other cities in the country to apany groups. The workload was higher, leaving me with little time for frence work. At this time the pipes of the apartment above mine copsed leading to flooding in my apartment. The building owners were called, checks were made and I was asked to find somece to stay until everything was fixed.

    It was a relief that the apartment came with furnishing and I had simply not added anything to the pre-existing dcor. None of my belongings suffered due to this event. I just had to pack my suitcase and find a ce where I could live for a couple of days.

    The problem was, I had no acquaintances in the city. So, I opted to live in a hotel which had good security. I would possibly have to find a new ce to live which I stay in the hotel; thank god it was the weekend. The security in the apartment I was living in wasx and left me being careful when I walked around.

    I could see that the hotel was busy, but there seemed to be a conference happening there. As I checked in I heard someone tap on my shoulder. I moved away from the touch, a shiver running down my spine as my gut wretched at the thought of the touch.

    I swiveled around, prepared for confrontation to see a vaguely familiar face.

    "I''m sorry, do I know you?" I asked, my brow scrunched in irritation. The boy had blue eyes and blond hair, his surprised look registered in my head. I remembered his identity by the clueless look on his face.

    Jameson, the throw-away apprentice.

    "You don''t remember me?" he asked, seeming disappointed.

    "No." I lied. I was going to move past him when he grabbed my hand. I pped it away, clutching at my wrist.

    "Please don''t touch me," I warned him. He looked unsettled.

    I didn''t like to be touched, especially by people as stupid as this one.

    He spluttered an apology and wrung his hands in front of him.

    "I just wanted to stop you," he whined. I grew angrier by the second. It was quite unusual for me to react this way as most people didn''t dare toe near me because I gave off a snotty air. "Aren''t you going to attend the conference?"

    My brain processed the information.

    "What does it have to do with me?"

    "Dr. Butler is presenting a paper on the case you helped with." He told me.

    "I didn''t help him with any case," I ground out.

    "You found the body, and well we found a lot from it," he told me sheepishly. It was his inadequacy which had thrown him out of the case.

    "It has nothing to do with me." I walked away without looking back.

    Even if Sebastian Butler was lurking around in the hotel, I would not be stumbling across him.

    .

    I had gone down to the dining area for dinner. My entre had arrived and I was poking at it when I saw a shadow pull out the chair across from me and slide into it. I looked up, disinterested and found the nonchnt figure of Mr. Butler looking at the te he had ced in front of him.

    I silently looked back to my te and scooped out a spoonful of food and shoved it into my mouth.

    There was no conversation while we ate. He nced at me a few times without lingering for long. We sat infortable silence.

    I was about to get up when I heard his voice.

    "Eat some more, don''t need to leave on my ount," the deadpan was obviously there. I had really finished my meal but on hearing him I sat leaned back into the chair and stared right at him.

    "Would you like some spinach ravioli?" he asked suddenly, but before I could answer, he had transferred a piece onto my empty te. I couldn''te to hate the idea. I sliced into the ravioli and put it into my mouth so that he could have his peace of mind.

    "Are you staying here with guests?" he asked.

    I shook my head but realized soon that he was not looking at me, therefore didn''t know how I had answered.

    I chewed on the remaining of the ravioli, gulped it down and then put my cutlery down.

    "No. Due to unforeseeable circumstances, I find myself seeking refuge in an expensive hotel," I had meant it as a joke, but he seemed to put on a sour expression in response. Confused, I waited for him to say something but ended up exining the situation.

    Didn''t help matters.

    "Doesn''t thepany you work for pay you enough?" he grumbled.

    "They do."

    He transferred another ravioli from his t onto mine. I sighed as I took the fork and knife back into my hands and made two pieces of it.

    "Then why didn''t you find a ce with better structural stability?"

    "I like to live dangerously," I told him with a smile. He was not pleased.

    "I can see that, going around town with unknown people all day long, treating them like gods when they are rude to you, and put yourself in danger all the time all seem like your way of living the dangerous life."I guffawed.

    "Says the man who catches serial killers for fun. What do you think happens to those that escape you ande back to bite you in the ass?" I challenged. He raised a brow at me, pride shing in his eyes.

    "I never let them escape, so they can''t get to me."He leaned back, issuing me a challenge.

    I clicked my tongue and shook my head, my mood uplifting.

    "Imagine: I want to kill a series of people, I have some psychoanalytic sense. I can change the pattern of killing to throw you off track. Maybe you won''t even find out that it was the same killer on a spree." He scoffed in reply.

    "Evie, our mind is divided into three parts: the conscious, subconscious and unconscious. While you can consciously refrain from killing in a certain way to evade psychoanalysis, your subconscious and unconscious mind are biased and lean towards motions that give you away. The killer can be intelligent, but they will always get caught because they are a ve to their mind. Nothing escapes psychology, no one can evade pattern.

    I stayed silent for a minute. I licked my lips as I came up with what to say next.

    "But it is up to you toe up with the analogy to see the pattern and you are not omniscient." It was a direct hit to the preconceived notion that he was capable of unraveling the mind of every person hees across.

    "And therein lies the difference between me and you. I don''t only look at psychology but also the scene of the crime, physical evidence and using knowledge, information to deduce the answer is the empirical method of solving problems, it is the same with crime analysis." He stopped, mulled over how to say the next part of his argument and then began again. "I was trained in this sphere, I had teachers who taught me how to keep myself safe. Can you say the same about yourself? Are you impervious to danger?"

    His argument was somewhatpelling.

    "I sense that there is more you want to say, that you have an ulterior motive for sitting across from me when you know well that I was trying not to meet you. Clearly, Jameson has told you that he came across the girl he had interviewed and you knew that was me because you would not expect such a thing. Therefore, you were sure of my identity when I was rmended as the trantor and you tested me with a purpose." I grew enraged. "What do you want from me?" I asked him.

    "Be my assistant."

    I had not expected that. I had thought that he would try to cate me or try to turn the conversation, but it seemed like I didn''t know him enough.

    I was bbergasted.

    "You deserve to aplish your dreams. This life you are leading is not meant to satisfy your thirst for knowledge. Be my assistant, Evie."

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 28: Irreparable

    Chapter 28: Irreparable

    There was a moment of silence between us. His eyes were earnest as he stared at me, yet there was this underlying confidence in them that screamed for me to prove him wrong.

    "I spent years of my time learningnguages so that I can understand different cultures and help people. I am not going to change my life because you think I am good at something, Mr. Butler. I am content with my lot."

    My voice was firmer than I had anticipated. I sighed when his response didn''te.

    "I am sorry I just don''t think my thirst for knowledge leads me to be your assistant. My dreams don''t take me there," I told him in a gentler voice. I wished to pacify him, to make him understand how irreparable and impossible it was for me to be in a position of power, in one I didn''t deserve where one mistake could lead to the desecration of lives.

    "You deny your passion for this line of work," he stated simply. "A lot of people change their careers because they don''t find it interesting once they join. I was one of the people who are equally if not more in love with my dream than I was when I had no experience."

    "A lot of people change their careers, yes, but that doesn''t mean they are happy with what they chose. Experience decays the illusions they have about the grandiose nature of the job they chose. It bes a chore. I don''t want to risk my life''s work for a moment of thrill, to delude myself into thinking that I can somehow enjoy this work, when clearly I am not cut out for it."

    I had assumed my logic would defeat him, but it didn''t.

    "Good. That is what I want to say, as well," he smiled a small smile, ted that he could somehow twist my words into something else altogether. "I don''t want you to change your line of work. I want you to assist me in tranting documents for my research and help me in during interviews of people who speak differentnguages. I am not asking you to put yourself on the line and solve cases. You are not trained for it. I just want you to use your talent in a ce where you are appreciated and paid properly." He shrugged.

    I took a shuddering breath as I went over his words in my head.

    "I don''t think I can handle working with you, Mr. Butler." My voice was a whisper. I didn''t dare look at him to check if he had heard me or not. He would have to figure out my answer if it hadn''t reached him.

    Images of bloodied ropes, des and limbs hanging off bodies evaded my mind. I felt anger. I felt disgust. And I felt yearning.

    Thest instilled fear in the very core of my being.

    These images excited me in a way nothing else did. I may not enjoy the pain of others, but I was capable of inflicting it. I could be so taken with the idea of warm blood dripping from my fingers onto the marble floor as I apanied Sebastian to ces and heard those monsters justify their reasons to kill. I wouldn''t be able to control myself. I would be just like them. And I would never let that happen.

    "That is perfectly fine, Miss Lewis. I understand. I won''t interrupt you or pressure you into anything you are ufortable with." His words soothed my erratic heart. "But I want you to remember that the position will be open if you wish to take up the role of my assistant. You''ve set the bar too high for the others toe, unfortunately."

    With that, he stood up from the seat and picked his te up. He was about to walk away when he stopped and turned back.

    "You are in need of a ce to stay, are you not?" he says in a contemtive matter. I am taken aback by the sudden change in subject. I nod suspiciously as he gives me a guilty smile.

    "I would assume you would like to stay in a ce where the security is top notch and close to your workce. I know for a fact that some apartments at myplex are up for rent."

    "No" I began, but quieted down. "The rent is a factor. But good security would be nice." I was defeated.

    "Then I can show you around when you get the time." He waits for me to stand up andplete. I am restless as I follow him. My mind is full of questions. I don''t know why I gave in to his demand, but I am surprisingly okay with it.

    I remembered his words offort and the way he held me as I struggled to control myself, to understand why I was such a wretched being.

    I decided that it wouldn''t be so bad staying close by and being assured that he wouldn''t let memit a mistake that would haunt me forever.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 29: Game of Houses

    Chapter 29: Game of Houses

    The conference was long, I didn''t know what possessed me to sit there, but the familiarity of Mr. Butler sitting next to me and jotting down points from the various talks wasforting. There was a sense of banality that visiting tourist spots every day couldn''t bring me. I had not worked with Mr. Butler for long enough to feel a sense of belonging, but it was this, apanying someone to a conference, listening intently so that I can reiterate in a differentnguage and then somehow internalizing that knowledge without meaning to. It was a habit by then that couldn''t be reced by mundane paperwork and traversing through busy streets.

    I found myself enticed, I flipped the notepad open (customary for any respectable conference) and started scribbling whatever questions I had. I remained silent when the panel discussed, I didn''t ask any questions. It would be embarrassing toe off as ignorant in such a high profile conference. Mr. Butler spared me many a nce, sometimes coaxing me to go ahead and ask. I didn''t understand why he wanted me to look foolish, but it was probably because he thought that me having an interest in his stream of study would make it easier for him to lure me into being his assistant.

    Assistant

    I didn''t need to go to college for another degree.

    It was just an extension of what I had learned in school.

    I could do it temporarily.

    ''No,'' I reminded myself. I referred back to all the devastating scenarios that could be made possible by one stupid mistake. I stopped myself from further contemtion, choosing to focus on a paper on hical interrogation techniques.

    .

    My suitcase remained packed in my hotel room. I was inside the car with Mr. Butler, following him to his apartmentplex where he ensured me there were plenty of apartments up for rent. He also promised that I would love the location and the view, but I doubted much of that would matter or would be within my budget.

    As he had said, themunity was gated. With a registration booth and guards checking every car that entered. It was also pleasing to see them ask for my ID even though I had entered with a resident. I had learned of the beautiful pathways and facilities of this ce, the reviews were glowing, and I had zero hope of being capable of living in such a fancy ce.

    Mr. Butler guided me to the building manager''s office who seemed delighted upon seeing me. The woman was in herte forties, clearly bored as she at her desk as an unfriendly resident reiterated their paranormal experiences. I saw Mr. Butler nce at me surreptitiously at the mention, but he seemed pleased by how unfazed I was.

    We waited for a bit until the resident was done with his supposedly spooky rant. The manager was worried that I would be put off by the ghastly sightings ryed by the resident, but I was very unbothered. I had not heard of such an instance during my research, hence I was sure it was a well-hidden rumor. The possibility of that affecting the rent would be minimal. I sighed in dismay.

    I believe the manager presumed that I would be one of the posh individuals because she led me to a building that clearly had some limited edition cars in its basement garage. She made me tour the indoor pool, the gym, the cinema theatre, and many more recreational facilities before leading me to the room she had expected me to like.

    It was beautiful. Thest tenant had left it spotless, the walls and carpet looked new and the view was beautiful. I was not surprised.

    "I can''t afford to stay here," I blurted out. The manager looked struck by my words. The apartment came fully furnished and it was a beautifulbyrinth of rooms, and it would be about impossible for someone to say no to. But my no was not one which said ''I love it but I can''t afford it,'' it screamed ''get me out of here.'' It was not panic, but a sense of unease in being in a location where I couldn''t see in all directions.

    "Do you have something smaller than this?" I asked, my voice sugary sweet, trying to make up for my loud blunder moments ago. The woman nodded with a distasteful expression on her face, peeved that I wasn''t going to fill her pockets.

    Mr. Butler made noment as we made our way to another apartment. I had already rejected three, but the buildingplex was huge and surprisingly had apartments furnished for various standards of living. The woman, finally exasperated had asked me what exactly I wanted in an apartment after that. I told her I wanted a loft, a single open space with a kitchen and bathroom attached to it. I told her that I wanted something devoid of furniture as I enjoyed living without extravagance.

    The manager must have pegged me a beggar at that point, but I just shrugged off her weird looks and followed her about.

    Thest ce we visited was considerably farther away from the ces we had been to. The security was still very good, much better than thest ce I was living at, and I was sufficiently happy with the space and look of the apartment.

    The building, I was told, was one of the first to be made in theplex which was then catering to single men and women who needed a ce to stay. It worked out well for me, as the price point was almost identical to thest ce I was living, albeit the security deposit was a bit higher. I paid, satisfied and found myself standing in front of a polished looking building with Mr. Butler standing in front of me.

    "Would you like toe upstairs?" he asked softly as if waiting for my rejection. "It''s been a long day," he went on to exin, his hand shoved inside the pocket of his pants. I nodded without hesitation, not wanting to offend him after all the rude conversations we had. He was my benefactor in all sense of the word; he had done his absolute best to get me out of any bad situation I was involved in, the apartment situation included. I couldn''t just remain so cold towards him.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 30: I Want To Survive

    Chapter 30: I Want To Survive

    His walls of his apartment were lined with bookshelves were he kept dozens upon dozens of books, mostly non-fiction. It was fascinating to browse through his small but well collected library. The furniture in the apartment was minimalist and there was no effort put into decorating the ce. It was so clean you could see your face in the floor tiles, hypothetically. Moreover, the apartment was riddled with loads of rooms and hidden passages that were lit up the moment you stepped inside the room. It was fascinating, to say the least, and downright hrious as he acted as the tour guide and went around his apartment pointing at several books that he enjoyed.

    His office was the most fascinating ce of all. It was riddled with boxed of files stacked on top of one another, and sheets of paper strewn across the floor with a small neat pathway in the middle for him to go in and out of the room. It was an absolute mess, unlike the whiteboard across the room.

    There were photos on it and arrows with blue markers. Even from the distance, I could make out the scene and moved away swiftly, hoping he would notice. He was kind enough to hurry me to another room and seat me. He prepared a ss of milk, surprisingly and sat across from me. His proud stance made me smile.

    "I asked the building manager. She said that you should be able to move in within a few days. The month end is near so it won''t be much of a problem." I nodded at his observation as I sipped on the milk.

    "I will have to go back to the old apartment tomorrow and sign some papers, and I should be set to leave," I said softly. He arched a brow in question. "It was a pre-furnished room and I don''t have a lot of luggage, so I can move fast."

    "But that means you will have to buy new furniture. How will you move?"

    I shrugged.

    "I''ll do it myself. I am a minimalist, so I don''t mind ack of furniture."

    "But still, call me the day you move, I will buzz you in and help you get your things arranged." I nodded dumbly, not wanting to be rude. ''It wasn''t like he was going to see the inside of my apartment after today,'' I thought absent-mindedly.

    .

    Thank god it was the end of the month and the management in myst building didn''t fuss. I soon found myself shopping for a mattress. Sebastian had insisted on driving me to the mall to help buy what was needed. He made no input regarding any of the things I bought, he silently oversaw as I flitted across the rows of curtains and bed sheets to pick out ones I liked. I had decided on cing a single double mattress in the middle of the loft to make for a sitting and sleeping area and had bought an adjustableptop table so that my back could finally rest after sleepless nights of tranting documents.

    He kept surprising me with little things like helping me push the cart, inspect the mattress, and buy me a smoothie from a local store.

    The mattress was due to arriveter that evening and thepany would deliver it to ce, so I reached the premise and tried to sort out ways in which I could keep him out of my house. I made several excuses before he realized I didn''t want him near my apartment. If it hurt his pride, I didn''t know, but his shoulders hunched as he walked away.

    .

    [New ces bring old memories. Like every other time I had moved, my dreams sucked me back into the very world I wished to escape.

    Like every other time, I could taste my blood mixed with the vegetables I had chopped. The taste was horrid. I vomited out the food I had consumed. Days went by as she continued keeping me as her little pet who chopped her veggies. Every day, she would do the honor of slicing the meat. I never nced at her as she watched in sick pleasure. She had opted to break me slowly, I realizedter. She was conditioning me, using some twisted form of the Pavlovian method to make me think it was okay to do as she did.

    ''Just let me go.'' I pled to no one in particr.

    ''If I survive, I will do anything topensate.''

    It would have been okay as long as I retained what little rationality was left of me.

    Next, she brought an infant still bundled in a swaddle. I absorbed the scene in horror as she yed with the fussy kid, feeding it, tending to it. At least she didn''t restrain the child or abuse it.

    That soon changed, as well.

    "Stop it!" I screamed again. How many times had I been stuck in this very same scene with her smugly smiling and wrapping her hand around the poor child''s throat? She didn''t choke it.

    ''It.'' That was what I had chosen to call it. Because I couldn''t dare to think of it as a sentient being. Couldn''t bear to live with having to watch Alice kill it with glee as I watched on helplessly.

    I heard a little snap, and then nothing. She pretended to y with the child for a little longer. But like every other time, she grew bored soon enough.

    My days of chopping vegetables were gone.

    "You are the executive chef of Food for Cannibals, today. Don''t disappoint me." Her cooing and petty childish antiques infuriated me. I refused.

    "Fuck you and your sick game. Why don''t you just kill yourself, you ugly fuck?" I shrieked. The knife in my right hand was raised on top of my head, I wished to attack her and end this nightmare.

    But she was more powerful.

    A swift kick to the stomach and an hour of gut-wrenching punches left me pliable and putty in her hands.

    I sliced into flesh, that day. I don''t know how I managed, but I was reduced to nothing but my instincts.

    So what if I had done this? I didn''t kill anyone.

    I have to survive.

    I have to survive.

    I must survive.

    There is only hope if you survive.

    The chant in my head was clear. I would do just about anything to keep breathing, even if I had to gorge on the flesh of another being, even if I had to watch on as she murdered others ruthlessly.

    And I did just that.

    I would hold on, no matter what.]

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 31: Broken Record

    Chapter 31: Broken Record

    [The worst thing about being held captive is how it hampers your eating and sleeping habits. Alice had fun with her food, literally. How I had managed to survive as long as I had, I will never know.

    In that unventtedrge room, the clinical smell of bleach permeated the air and made it difficult to discern the scent of blood churning in the midst of it. The room was an illusion created by none other than Alice. She was a neat freak if she was close to being human. She made sure to scrub every corner of the room, me included, using soft products so that my supple skin was not tormented and was forever plump, awaiting her to gain an appetite for my meat.

    The meals were sparse, just enough to keep me alive and sentient. The quality was horrid, she was definitely not a good cook. And worst of all was her descriptions of the food she was consuming. My stomach turned every time she spoke about the benefits of cannibalism.

    I grew resilient soon. The talks of milky white skin and peeling it off was something I heard frequently. Like a broken record she would tease my patience, being extravagant in her descriptions and hoping for a violent reaction for which she could punish me. It sparsely came. Less frequently as time went by.

    I still don''t know why she grew so violent against me towards the end, or why she didn''t do away with me altogether. The line of people continued to pass. Like clockwork, I went from slicing the meat to consuming copious amounts of chicken. She made me sit beside her during every meal. I could barely keep it down, but most days I managed.

    "You''re very beautiful," she sneered at me one day as we yed with our te for food. Only Alice could turn such a mundane act into something insidious and gut-wrenching. Her words startled me. She had grown more vicious towards me. She would cut my skin often and force pieces of chicken down my throat even on my worst days. I knew it was close to the end. That there would be no point in hoping for survival, only a faint chance that going with her whims would extend my life by a couple of days.

    The anger in her voice puzzled me. Her earlierments about my looks wereced with an insatiate hunger. This time, her eyes glowed with menace. I shuddered.

    I couldn''t find my voice to retort, even if for small talk.

    "Tonight you dine with a special someone," she uttered,pletely gleeful. Her turns in mood were puzzling.

    "Who?" I found myself asking. The moment of courage was taken with a chuckle. She looked at me with a sharp expression.

    "Did I give you permission to talk?" She grumbled. I pressed my lips together, finding myself slightly fearful of what was toe. "You''re growing more fearless as the days go. Shall I remind you what pain feels like? Will that make you understand who lets you live for another day?" I silently looked at the te ced in front of me.

    Alice had impable table manners and she liked enforcing them on other people.

    Curiosity ate away at me. Who was this new person on whom bad luck and befallen and they would be dragged into this decapitating scene? I wondered which of us would be lucky.

    A little part in me hoped that it would be me. A little more time a little more chance of the cops finally rescuing me.

    It surprised me that I still had some hope left in my heart. I suppose the obsession with living rendered humans incapable ofpletely letting go of their hope in life. In such desperate situations, how could I continue to endure such torture?

    "It''s a boy." She giggled chirpily. I stared at her with a slight surprise. She had never told me much about her next target or what they represent, then why had she suddenly started speaking up?

    "He''s twenty-six and very pretty. You have a date with him tonight," she said. I couldn''t discern what she was thinking but it seemed like another one of her convoluted ns. "You do know that I consider you my sister, right?" she impressed upon me, her voice childlike, a pout looking for approval on her lips.

    I flinched internally as I waited for her to continue.

    Who knows what she would do if I speak out of turn. I stayed silent.

    "I want my sister to date," she confessed. "I never had a sister, but I always wanted one. So I took you," she mumbled something I couldn''t catch. "I wanted to gossip with my sister about her first boyfriend and her first kiss. You must fulfill my wish," she tried to coax. I shuddered away from her in horror.

    In a sh, I felt a burning pain on my cheek.

    "You evil bitch, I got your worthless ass a boyfriend and you don''t even say thank you? You dare to flinch away?"

    Her screams came and I prepared for her blows and cuts to follow, but nothing did.

    She was keeping me pretty for my date.

    She spent hours dressing me up in clothes she had bought from the supermarket. They were fancy and I was puzzled by how rich she must be to keep up this lifestyle.

    I couldn''t bear to look at myself in the mirror. It was the first time in a long time that I saw myself.

    No wonder she could bear to treat me so poorly. I looked subhuman, nothing more than an animal being led to their ughter.

    I sat in the borate set up she had made. It was a candlelit room,plete with beautiful tes and cutlery. It looked meticulously done.

    When the man entered, he looked terrified. I must have been a sight of horror, but he looked more concerned with how Alice dragged him into the room. His mouth was taped, as were his hands and feet. He had been tied for at least a few days from how impressive the burn marks on his skin were, but he was otherwise unharmed. Some bruising here and there.

    When had she hunted him down? Did Alice work a day job?

    As he seated across me, I saw his pleading eyes, asking for help. I looked away ashamed as I sat without restrains, still not trying to escape. There was no point anymore.

    She would catch me without a doubt.

    She ripped the tape away from his mouth, leaving him flinching. She returned shortly after, cing tes of food in front of us.

    I knew what would be served but I had been warned not to startle the neer. I would face serious trouble if I did.

    "Enjoy," she muttered before leaving us alone.

    We sat in silence, staring at one another.

    "Hello," my voice sounded so foreign. "My name is Evie. Wee to Hell."]

 Chapter 32: Save Me

    Chapter 32: Save Me

    [There was a pause in the conversation. His lips twitched as he tried to search for words.

    "You don''t have to sound that ominous, you know?" he muttered, seemingly scared but still not believing the teenager in front of him. In his defense, I didn''t look like much with my current state and I could imagine he would take me for someone younger.

    "Don''t look down on me. This is not like a teenager getting into a fight with their boyfriend hell. It is real. You either do what you have to survive, or she kills you," I discreetly nce towards the way she went, sure she would lurk to see how the ''date'' was going.

    "I just..." he was baffled. "How long have you been here?" he asked, not knowing where to go with the conversation. I tried to manage a reply but curiosity got better of me.

    "How long have you been here?" I asked, unwisely.

    ''Never get close to those thate in; it only ends in heartbreak and betrayal.''

    "In my calctions about 2 days. I know from the meals." I nced at his hands, which looked raw and battered by the tightening rope.

    "I don''t think I am allowed to untie you," I told him softly. "You would have a better chance of survival if I could," I gave him a small smile.

    "Do you think so?" he gasped, nervous excitement visibly coursing through him.

    "What was the date outside when you came?" He thought for a bit before answering.

    "Seven months," I mumbled under my breath but he had heard it. His voice rose in horror. His eyes reddened as he tried to force down his tears.

    "Don''t worry," I assured him. My voice had no trace of it, though. It sounded cold and dead. "This is unusual for her. She doesn''t keep people around for long." That seemed to bother him more, unsurprisingly.

    "Then I die?" he whispered, tears finally rolling down his cheeks.

    "No. I think it''s my time to die," I said. I could sense my conviction. I was sure that this borate presentation was part of a farewell for me. She had kept me long enough and was bored with me now that she had broken me. I was no fun.

    "Don''t look so horrified. I was prepared to go long back. I don''t know what kept her interested." I shrugged. "I don''t think my body can take it anymore. My heart is about to stop even if she doesn''t finish me off."

    "Why think so negatively?" he asked anxiously. Iughed. It was genuine like I had heard a funny joke.

    "It happens when you have lived as long as me," I teased. He quirked a brow at me in question.

    "You must say that I have more experience in this life than you do."

    For a moment, the banter with this older man had made me forget where I was not really, but it was a wee relief. If we had met under any other circumstances, I would have passed by him without a single nce, but the universe was a curious thing. We had managed to meet each other in the worst of ce days before our death.

    One could say that we could hear our death knell ring.

    "Haven''t you tried running away?" He pleaded.

    "I would try, but I don''t have much time left. I wish I could help you." I felt like crying. For the first time, I wanted to cry in the grief of the loss of my life. I wanted to mourn.

    "You can. I don''t think she will be back, soon." I nced around at his words to see her lurking in the shadows, far enough for her not to be able to hear us.

    "She is right around the corner," I told him conspiratorially. "Have your meal," I pointed towards the dishes in front of us. He looked at his trapped hands and then back at my face.

    I took pity on the man and cut into the te of food left before him. I didn''t tell him what he was eating, and he didn''t seem affected by the taste. I wondered if my first time tasting such a vile substance would turn out to be just as nonchnt.

    How could he not tell what he was eating?

    "Don''t you want to eat?" he asked curiously as I shied away from my te and concentrated on serving him. I shook my head in denial. "You should muster up whatever energy you can. It won''t be easy."

    ''What wouldn''t be easy?'' I wondered.

    ''Nothing is easy. Nothing has ever been easy for me. I found myself thinking.''

    I cut into the dishes on his insistence. He had an earnest look in his eyes which made me swallow my foul pride and give away whatever little humanity I had left in my body.

    Imitted the gravest sin.

    As the fork entered my mouth, I felt my body tense in repulse. I shoved it in and then chewed on it slowly, trying to shut off my mind and my taste buds. I wanted to vanish from existence.

    "Doesn''t it taste good?" he asked, in awe. I nodded hesitantly as I tried to gulp it down. I couldn''t possibly throw it up. "Won''t you have more? You are so thin. She serves good food for a serial killer. Though I haven''t met one before this, I am sure they don''t..." he droned on and on.

    And I grieved. I grieved for my lost humanity. The dim ray of hope extinguishing. I grieved for this man who was trying to hard to make light of the situation. Imended him for trying to make me feel better, but I could see the fear slithering in his eyes as he tried to humor me.

    The days passed in a blur. I didn''t remember much after that.

    How had I escaped? What happened to have made me find a loop and run to the nearest police station and scare the life out of them.

    I only remembered how light-headed I felt, how my lungs burned from running. How I raised my hand and screamed with the little energy I had left in me.

    "Save me!"]

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 33: Need More

    Chapter 33: Need More

    It was strangely serene when I woke up from my sleep. It had taken what felt like hours to break out of the paralysis and finally be able to control my body enough to wake myself from the stupor.

    The feeling of blood slowly dripping down my scalp made meb my hand through my hair to check. It had been a feeling I had grown used to and sometimes just like the phantom dreams, the phantom pains from the past would haunt me.

    I slid out of the mattress and padded my way to the shower. There was little light inside the room, and I soon realised that it was early in the morning. I had spent twenty-three hours trapped in a dream that I could recall like the back of my hand. It was a boon that it hade on a weekend and especially because I was stressed out because of the move.

    The cold shower woke me up instantly. I opened myptop and went on search of some frence work that I could do in the meantime. It wasn''t long before I fell into my usual routine and worked through the night on inconsequential novels that needed tranting.

    .

    A month passed and I stayed clear of Sebastian''s home. He had often called on me to help him out with trantion work he considered mind-numbing, but I had turned him down saying that it was going to take me some time getting used to the house andmuting to and from work.

    He epted my excuse graciously. He dropped by suddenly one Tuesday evening after I hade home and wanted to discuss something with me. It took me some time to convince him that going into my room would only perplex him and that it was too unclean for him to see. He knew I was lying, I didn''t make a big deal out of making myself sound convincing, but he took the excuse anyway. He gave me a great deal of leeway for someone so stubborn and hard-pressed.

    Getting back to the story, he wanted to discuss if I wanted to stay over at his ce while he left for some work for a couple of days. He would be spending two nights out of town on business and needed someone to look after his house. I didn''t know what exactly he needed me to do, but he did mention that Alec was not around much to help.

    I reluctantly went over to his house as he exined what I needed to do.

    I entered his home to find a cute fluffy ball running towards us. It was a ck cat who liked to cuddle and rub its head against his feet. It was especially cute and I realised why he needed a sitter.

    "Keep my baby girl in good shape." His voice was soft and sweet like honey. He produced a chart and showed me what I needed to do to care for the cat. For a cat so friendly, it neededpany sleeping. It was scared of the dark and needed someone warm against her to make her feel secure. I didn''t care for animals much as they are too quick to die, but I felt a fondness for this cute ball of fur and took on the job.

    I went over to his house on Thursday, when he was supposed to leave and started having a more active role in Sheng Sheng, the cat''s life. I fed it and got myself familiar with its habits as Sebastian packed.

    I came across a case of files named ''The Stone Man'' and froze. I looked surreptitiously at the man whose file it was and looked back at the records.

    I was awfully enticed to take a peak. I knew that the killings of homeless men for years had been an unsolved serial crime case and none other than Sebastian Butler had finally cracked it. I had seen the name of the suspect all over the newspapers but had never thought about how those conclusions hade to be.

    How did one figure out who the killer was?

    "May I look at this file?" I said softly, pointing towards it. He nodded absentmindedly. I moved forward and sat down cross-legged in front of it. The file was littered with notes and pictures that would have made me cringe, but my curiosity got the better of me.

    I gobbled down every little information I could.

    [No blood at site, but the head wound shows that excessive external bleeding took ce. ce of murder and finding the body are not the same.

    Due to cold weather and snow, the victim was wearing heavy clothing which prevented the body from decaying and it being exposed to the animals hastened dposition process.

    Estimated time of death would be within four days of finding the body, excluding her from the suspect list.

    The stone used to hit the homeless man should be big and matches other killings in the state: the serial killer that has returnedstone man. Copy cat killers as the crimes happened over forty years. The real killer would leave the body at the crime scene. The second one removed the body and transnted it elsewhere, making a disy of it.

    Victim-Male. Homeless.

    Killer: Hedonistic killer or thrill killer, desire to kill is central to the motive and not torture. Views them as undesirable per subhuman and deserving of death. The first killer was a missionary killer as he didn''t associate with the victim as he hated them. He just killed them at the spot and left despite organising/disorganising every detail of the action. The second killer evolved his fantasy and is aware of his growingpulsion to kill. Gainfully employed as a skilled worker. Socialises with them and lures them. Well-off: car/wife/children. Changes jobs and cities to avoid being caught, unlike the first one who is solid in his geographic location. Uses resources avable to him andter disposes of them after the murder.]

    I looked up, confused. I could understand almost none of how the conclusions hade to be.

    I had to find out.

    "I don''t understand," I found myself saying to no one in particr. But there was only one other human in the apartment. He looked up from his packing and looked at the file in my hands.

    "I don''t have the time to exin," he told me pointedly. "If you want, I can pick out a couple of basic books that you can read to find out the meaning." He didn''t say much after that.

    He gave me three books that I knew I would definitely finish.

    "Ask me if you need anything else," he told me politely before leaving.

    Iy cuddled with Sheng Sheng for the next two days, feeding her and ying with her in between flipping through the pages of the book. I was absorbed.

    I needed more.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 34: Wake Up

    Chapter 34: Wake Up

    I took two days leave from office, calling in sick. It was a horrific thing to do, but I was convinced that I had toplete reading these books before Sebastian arrived. He would be smug and let me know just how interested I was in his subject of choice.

    What bothered me was how I couldn''t for the life of me figure out how everything tied together. Simple definitions and conjectures did nothing to help me gain insight into the mind of the murderer. What exactly motivated him? What was his story? Why had he turned into a deviant wishing for the blood of others to be sshed on his hand?

    They were pressing questions.

    I found myself sleeping on thefortable leather couch with Sheng Sheng cuddling into my chest while I took breaks from reading and taking care of him. She was a sweet cat that made little to no fuss and acted like an angel. She wanted cuddles and purrs to satisfy herself and really did scare easy. Sleeping with the ball of fur gave my heart some much-needed warmth. I even contemted going to the pet store and buying myself a little kitten to take care of.

    I stopped myself when I remembered that I would have to be out of home for long periods as my position in thepany got higher. So I digressed.

    .

    My demons came to me in my dreams again. I witnessed as my parents were ughtered in front of my eyes. I observed as she taunted me toe out of my hiding and face her in battle. Reality and the dream world merged then. For the first time in years, I changed my dream from what my memories had been stuck at. I bolted out of the bathroom and made my way towards her, hoping to die a more honourable death than the pain I had lived through. I fought her off with all the might I had stored up in my body.

    It didn''t help. She had her hands on me soon enough, and I sumbed to her power, but not without a fight.

    "No," I growled as I tried to reach for her hand which hade down to grab my shoulder. Itched onto it with my teeth and bit in hard. I heard a yelp of pain, but I did not let go.

    "Evie, wake up!" I heard someone call me. My jaw loosened around the hand, and I saw Alice slowly vanishing from in front of my eyes. As the darkness dissolved into the dim light of the room, I realised the grave mistake I hadmitted.

    Sebastian was crouched down in front of me, his face in a mask of pain. I startled and let go immediately. I saw the marks on his hand, marks that I had left on him. My eyes grew moist as I stared in horror.

    "I''m sorry," I mumbled, still groggy and shaken from the dream. "I''m sorry."

    He was sitting on the floor, his hand clutched against his chest.

    "Nightmare?" he asked carefully, as if not wanting to offend me.

    I nodded, pushing my hand against my eye to wake myself up properly and punish myself for inflicting pain on him.

    "I''m sorry," I said again. This time, he chuckled. He reached out to me, careful not to startle me, and the attempt made me break out into a faint smile. He must have been scared by how hard I had bitten down on his arm. He had epted my apology, from what I could see on his face, but it didn''t mean that it hadn''t scared him even a little. I knew of how my thrashing around in my sleep had made my aunt believe that I was possessed, but the woman knew very well of the hellish circumstances I had ovee to be capable of sleeping again.

    The fear slowly slipped out of my body. I found myself standing up and walking towards the bathroom, where I knew the first-aid box was. Sebastian had previously shown me the ropes and where all the medication was, in case I needed something during an emergency, and I was thankful for the knowledge at that moment.

    I took out the kit and walked back to the living room, where he sat on the sofa, with his hand still clutched close to his face. He was inspecting the wound and blowing on it to soothe the inevitable pain he must have been feeling.

    "Did I break the skin?" I asked, concerned.

    "No. But you bite hard." Even though his words were said in good humour, I found myself feeling ashamed of my reactions. I apologised again, but this time, he gave me an exasperated sigh in return.

    "I know how dreams can affect you, Evie. You don''t need to tell me why you reacted that way," he began. He paused for a minute as I took care of the bite and then joked light-heartedly. "Will you feel less guilty if I bite you, too?"

    I find myself snorting.

    "Sure," I said, finally easing myself into thefort of his presence.

    "I shouldn''t have left you in charge of Sheng Sheng. Now she has influenced you, and you are acting just like her." I raised my brow in question. "She bites and scratches people if theye close to her while she is sleeping. She is jumpy. And she likes to cuddle."

    He gave a pointed look at me, telling me of how I had cuddled his soft cat and fallen asleep on the couch.

    I coughed, embarrassed.

    "Are you implying that I am a cat?" He nodded. "I like cats," I said absentmindedly.

    "I do, too."

    "Hmm?"

    "Have you seen a therapist? About your dreams?" he asked suddenly, surprising me.

    "Yeah. The guy said that I was exaggerating." I shrugged, not wanting to remember the humiliation.

    The therapist had taken one look at me and told me that eating disorders weremon in people who wanted to get attention. He hadn''t even heard what I had to say and told me that I had exaggerated and that eating more would fix everything.

    "Don''t believe him," he said softly. His hand felt soft on mine. Heforted me with an eas I didn''t understand how he possessed. For someone so against social connections, he was particrly good at making people feelfortable around him.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 35: Need to Know

    Chapter 35: Need to Know

    "I don''t," I told him softly, my voice breaking ever so slightly in protest. He looked at me with his brows furrowed in displeasure, not believing my words.

    "Surely surely you know that you deserve better than that," he said, rmed.

    I shrugged, trying to look as nonchnt as possible, but I think I failed miserably.

    "What you went through" My head swivelled in his direction.

    "What do you know?" I said in a low, threatening voice. I had never told him anything about my past and he had acted as if he knew nothing about it, carefully disregarding any words said that pertained to it.

    "Everything," he admitted. There was a sense of calm in his voice that I had not understood the meaning of. He was admitting to knowing my deepest, darkest secret, yet he had no reaction.

    "You know I was taken by Alice the Elegant Butcher and kept captive?" He nodded. "Did you know what I had to do?" I frowned. How could he be near me if he knew what had happened?

    "Yes, of course. I know as much as you said yourself." He shrugged. I grew furious.

    "How did you know? Did you stalk me?" My throat was dry was fear. If he had truly looked up my history and known all about me all along, what could be his motive for getting closer to me andforting me? Surely, there had to be something that convinced him to do something of the sort.

    "Rx. It was nothing of the sort," he assured me. But it was easier said than done. I was perplexed by this turn of events. I had tried my best to hide it from him. Despite my symptoms, there was nothing pointing towards my history and as far as I knew, my records from the time were top-secret and not meant for others to find out. It would cause chaos if that was the case.

    "I was an intern working under Ross Reynolds, the detective-in-charge at the time. The day you stumbled into the police station and screamed for everyone to help you, I was there. A lot of us were. We had not even been close to finding out where you were hidden, and you had already been thought to be dead. Your appearance was one that can''t be forgotten easily. I heard your witness and answers to questioning when you recovered. And then when I saw you being questioned for the Stone Man case, I couldn''t make the connection at first. I thought you were a prodigious being for being so intuitively knowledgeable about the subject despite not being a student of it. I looked you up and found out that you were one and the same Evie Lewis that I had known. It was a strange serendipitous meeting, to say the least, but your talent blew me away. It was just some coincidence that you were the one who came to trante my work. I thank whatever being is above for it. I found myself the perfect protge."

    "I am not convinced. Why do you want me?" My eyes moistened with unshed tears. "Why?" I whispered.

    "Let''s go to the hospital and get my arm looked at, first," he said softly, nearing me as if to soothe me. I flinched away but when I saw the pain on his face, I immediately stood up to apany him.

    "Let''s go. I need you to exin everything to me. Why would I be your protge? Why are you so intent on cultivating my talents? Is it because of some book you wish to write?" I had a lot of questions and more formed in my head.

    "I will answer everything, but let us go to the hospital, first." I nodded in assent and found myself walking out with him without a second thought.

    Mere moments ago, I was confused and conflicted about his intentions towards me, but somehow I had been ovee with the need to help him more than epting my need to preserve myself.

    "I still need to know," I told him, softly, hoping he would not forget the reason for our animosity.

    "I know. I don''t want to drive and talk. I am in a bit of pain, you see." I got into his car and sped off towards the nearest hospital, hoping my questions would be answered sooner thanter.

    .

    Choose:

    a. Portrait of a Murderer: Killing Machine

    b. Portrait of a Murderer: Stone Man

    c. All the times Sebastian saw Evie but she didn''t see him.

    d. Portrait of a Murderer: [next case]

    e. All the above.

    I will write these and post these as anciry chapters or normal chapters? The highest vote wins.

 Chapter 36: Witness My Humiliation

    Chapter 36: Witness My Humiliation

    The trip to the hospital is awkward. The doctor shoots me usatory looks and reprimands me.

    "You shouldn''t bite so hard if you are ying," he said grimly. Sebastian smirks on the side, turning his face away. I sit back, confused by what the doctor is telling me, wondering what that meant.

    "Pl" my words are cut off by the sharp reprimand of the doctor.

    "I know kids these days like to be innovative with their sex-life, but it shouldn''t bring you to the hospital." I lurched back in horror as I processed his words. "Your boyfriend was lucky that the skin didn''t break. He would have to take some supplementary shots otherwise," the man said.

    I sat, astonished at the number of assumptions the old man had made in the few sentences he had spoken and looked towards Sebastian for help. I was infuriated to see him snicker at my expense. I looked away, hoping the medication stings him a little bit, first for lying and second forughing at my humiliation.

    .

    I sit in the car, unsure of how to approach the topic when Sebastian speaks up and solves the problem for me.

    "Let''s talk over lunch. I have made you wait long enough," he said, cing his hand lightly on mine to pat. I looked at his hand and thought nothing of it. I quite enjoyed the heat of his hand, and this way, I could ensure that he had been properly treated and was not in pain. He drove the car silently until he spoke up, feeling ufortable, I presumed.

    "We are going to a vegan restaurant," the deration came.

    "Thank you for noticing," I politely told him. It was a deration that meant he knew exactly how affected by the kidnapping I was. His choice of restaurant showed that he knew a lot.

    "I hate meat, too." I looked at him in surprise, knowing that he was making conversation to make me feel morefortable about the situation. His face held a slight smile which gave away his trick.

    Indeed, he was very handsome. His green eyes shined with the light of his smile, the wind in his hair made him look even more dashing. I stared at him for a while before I spoke up.

    "How much do you know about me?" I asked surreptitiously.

    "I asked for someone to give me a file about you when you started working as my trantor I knew who you were and your glowing credentials since then. I didn''t want to bring it up because I knew how ufortable you would be to find out that I knew of your past. You seemed disturbed when the medical practitioner in the killing machine case asked you about your time in the city."

    "You heard that?" I squeaked, even more distressed.

    "I didn''t like how condescending he sounded, and it made you ufortable, so I pretended to not hear." He shrugged.

    "I am embarrassed that you found out," I admitted in a low voice, hoping he would not be able to hear. But my voice was loud enough to catch.

    "Why should you be embarrassed about what someone else did to you? You had no choice in the whole thing." His statement was final, but I felt a deep pain wretch inside me.

    "I did things that that still haunt me." There was silence in the car.

    "You are the victim, not the perpetrator. You went through hell to be sitting here, right now, and you were coerced into doing whatever it is that haunts you. You had no other choice but to sumb."

    "I did. I chose to survive. I had a choice."

    "You had a finite number of choices, and we as a species are equipped to adapt and want to survive, whatever the cost. It was the circumstance you were in and not you." His words gave me somefort. But I still felt guilt wretch inside me.

    "Please see a specialist. I am not good with words, and therapy is not my choice of stream. I may know a little about it, but under no circumstances will I y with your future and sanity. If you need help, I will refer you to a psychiatrist who can help you recover from this. You deserve to live a peaceful life. You no longer need to feel guilt or fear for your life. It is okay to survive and it is okay to be in pain. I will give you whatever help you desire. You won''t be alone."

    ''You won''t be alone.'' Tears rolled down my cheeks as the words registered.

    Not alone? I had long forgotten how that felt. I really wanted to not be alone any longer. How could I do that?

    He left me alone as I sniffled and cried my eyes out. He didn''t bother to look at me, giving me the space I needed. It would have been ufortable if he had tried tofort me in a conventional way. However, his silent support gave me something to look forward to. I felt a new hope spark in me. A life without loneliness. What would that be like?

    "I will go," I told him, my intentions firm. "I want to be better." He nodded his head.

    His phone rang after a few moments of silence. He connected it to his Bluetooth set and answered it.

    "Sebastian Butler speaking."

    "You found it? Okay, I wille in a bit."

    He hung up the phone and nced at me.

    "I will drop you home and then go to the crime scene. It is an emergency case, and the killer is on the run. I will grab dinner with you, okay?" I sat stoically, mulling over my options.

    "I don''t want to be alone." My voice was warm. "Can''t I be there?"

    "You can be there, but the scene is a mess from what I have been told. You will not go in. You will have to sit outside and wait for me. I don''t want you in there."

    "What do I need to do to go in there?" I asked, suddenly feeling the urge to go in and see what I was up against. What would it be like to observe him solve the crime in real-time?

    "Be my assistant," he said jokingly.

    "Okay," I said suddenly. "If I can go in." He looked at me, stunned.

    "No, Evie. It was a joke."

    "No. It wasn''t. Not to me. I will be your assistant, for today." He sighed.

    "You can''t just be my temporary assistant. I don''t want to push this case on you, please."

    But I was stubborn. He had pulled into the parking lot of an apartment and a couple of policemen were running out of the building, their hands on their mouth. One of them crouched over and puked their guts out. I stared, blinking as others followed suit.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 37: Steak and Stew

    Chapter 37: Steak and Stew

    [Warning: Gruesome description/imagery]

    "You are staying here," he said firmly, but I had already gotten out of the car.

    "You can''t show me anything worse than I have already seen." I shrugged. He sighed and silently contemted for a moment. In the face of my stubbornness, there was not much he could do.

    "If we are getting you to a psychiatrist, I can afford some more trauma to your senses." His words made me smile. Determined to prove him wrong, I followed him silently and entered the building.

    A rush of policemen had cornered a harmless looking olderdy who scrunched her face in panic as the words were fired at her.

    "What did he tell you?" She couldn''t answer.

    "He said" the woman stopped, her face looked pained as she searched for the words. Then she said a string of sentences which caught my attention. She spoke in Korean.

    "Should I help them trante? Do they have a trantor on board?" I asked Sebastian as we walked up the stairs.

    "Do you know thenguage?" I nodded.

    "I will ask if they need help when wee down. We need to see the crime scene first," he told me. "You brought your notepad and pen, right? I need you to take notes." I nodded.

    We entered the house to the smell of stale food.

    Two officers came out, their faces ashen as the neared us.

    "Sebastian Butler?" one of them asked, hoping he was right.

    "Yes, that is me." The guy nodded and ushered us in.

    "Be prepared for the worst," the other warned us.

    The scene was a massacre. The walls of the hallway had stters of blood all over it, the floor was drenched in blood. There was a little space on the sides for us to walk around, but the scene was gruesome. However, I didn''t know that I had not seen anything yet.

    There were blood trails leading to another room.

    "What do you think happened here?" Sebastian asked, his hands inside his pocket. He seemed at ease with the scene. Even I was influenced by him. It was as if I felt nothing towards these people, so I didn''t need to panic to make the killer die. Everything was analytical. Maybe it would change when I saw the body.

    "These blood spatters look like the weapon was used to strike multiple times," I nced around the walls, the blood trail led all over the ceiling as well. "There was a definite withdrawing motion and it was very passionately done. The stters go up until the ceiling. So the blood from the weapon flew up at the motion." The exnation was more for my benefit than anything.

    "What do you think the weapon was?" he asked. I shook my head, bewildered as to how I would figure that out.

    "I don''t know. I would have to see the body for that." The other two policemen remained silent, observing themunication between the two of us.

    "Where is the body?" Sebastian asked. The resulting scoff made me reconsider my choice ofing inside. It was going to be unsightly.

    "Here," one of them said, pointing towards the room to which the dragging trail of blood led.

    We followed suit, unsure of what we would find. But the scene was domestic. The floor was obviously wiped clean once the body entered the dining-cum-kitchen, but why I couldn''t figure it out.

    The room was spotless, and the dcor was beautiful. There was a little dining table, quaintly set and there were two tes on it. On further spection, one of the tes was empty. There were utensils in the kitchen sink and a pot immactely sitting on top of the professional looking stove.

    We walked towards it and realized that there was something very wrong about this scene.

    "Has everything been taken pictures of?" Sebastian asked, his voice low.

    "Yes, sir. There is more."

    I moved forward towards the food on the table and realized what was wrong. The cement of the food on the table was that of a gourmet restaurant, but the scent of the meat gave off much more information than was required by me to understand what I was looking at.

    I felt oddly hollow and calm at the moment. There was no guilt or panic at having stumbled upon a simr case, neither was there anger towards the one who hadmitted the murder.

    "Knives," I said loudly as I moved towards the sink. A set of knives were inside the sink, they were cleaned but looked like they were being disinfected or something. I recognized the knives used and moved towards the pot on the stove.

    "Steak and stew," I could tell from the smell.

    It was an image of domesticity that I was used to. "Don''t open that!" I heard one of the policemen say, but I had already ced my gloved hand on the lid of the top and opened it.

    They waited mutely for my scream of horror, but it didn''te.

    "I had heard of stew from fish head, but this is the first time I am seeing it with a homo sapien." I put the lid back on. "You don''t want to see this," I informed Sebastian.

    He was pleased by my countenance.

    "So, you know where the body is?" he asked, somewhat amused by my unaffected attitude. He must have been able to read me like an open book.

    "There is no body. She made sure to chop it and portion it. The rest is probably in her freezer with her regr meat." I shrugged.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 38: Dorothy Mitchell

    Chapter 38: Dorothy Mitchell

    Alice had made me used to it, and now having Sebastian gave me a renewed sense of confidence in my experience. I could see it in a new light. I was useful because of that experience. I could analyze the situation better because I had lived through watching people being murdered and had survived on cating the moods of a serial killer. It was somehow traumatic and useful at the same time. My trauma had created a perfect machine, a body and mind molded and ready to supervise and solve cases and dissect minds. I couldn''t ask for anything else.

    Sebastian moved towards the counter, near when I was, and removed the cab to see the garbage bag.

    "Is the killer a chef?" he asked, turning back in his crouched position. The two nodded, dumbfounded at the calm appearance of us. They must have had a gut-wrenching experience in here and were expecting us to run out, wanting to puke our guts out. But they were also a bit disappointed that it didn''t happen.

    "It shows, her method of disposal and presentation are that of a professional in the industry. Is she is a big name?" She should be. We were standing in the expensive part of town where all the celebrities lived.

    "Dorothy Mitchell," one of them said, snapping out of their daze.

    I cocked my head up, astonished by the name. Dorothy Mitchell was a world-renowned chef with a number of Michelin stars under her belt and a series of cooking shows where she showcased her vegetarian food and showed off how it affected her life. From what I knew, her husband was a businessman who spent most of his time outside the home, and she was in love with him. At least that was what the media said.

    "This is definitely not her husband," Sebastian said, ncing inside the pot.

    "Her husband is a man of about sixty and has white hair. Maybe someone else?" I asked, looking at the two others inside the room.

    "Her sugar baby."

    I gave Sebastian a pointed look at that and he just shrugged. As it turned out, he had been right. The neighbors told them of how the chef frequented her younger boyfriend''s apartment and unted her fame at their faces. And that she had been distressed about him going out to party all the time and wanted him home earlier.

    She was herself a woman in her early fifties and the boy was about twenty-five, definitely not from her age group. Further, she had met him on the set of a show.

    The eaten food showed that she was indeed not a vegetarian or due to apse in her psyche she had consumed the most heinous of meats on the.

    I looked at what had convinced Sebastian of her status as a chef and cringed. Thest time I had seen something like this, I had puked. This time, I took a step back. Having opened the cab, the smell of death and decay were prominent. The innardsy inside the bin, the telltale signs of stter from previous trials at cooking a meal were still evident. What was concerning was how well she had deboned it. This must have been why Sebastian was sure that she was a chef.

    "She must have de-skinned him," I pushed the word out, not knowing if it was offensive to hear. "Where is it?" I asked the policemen, knowing that they had already seen the worst of it and therefore reacted so violently.

    "Bedroom closet."

    I arched my brow, wondering just how entric my favorite chef was.

    We walked towards the bedroom, traversing past the trail of blood.

    The room was in a mess. There were drops of blood on the floor and the sheets were a mess. It was evident that she had taken a nap after killing the man and then went on to cook him.

    "From what we have gathered. There have to be over fifty stabs to the body for that amount of spatters to appear on the wall. We have taken some of the knives for testing and we are sure there was blood on it. The killer didn''t try to hide the body, she just went on with her life as if nothing happened. We have reason to believe that she has lost her mind and will pose danger to others, as well."

    That meant that it was an emergency.

    "I don''t think that is the case. She is not running, she is indeed going out, but not because she feels guilt or knows the implications of this murder." Sebastian''s words made sense. I followed him into the walk-in closet and looked around.

    And what do you know; the skin was immactely peeled and left on a hanger, as if ready to be worn at any moment. It was kept in the middle of her other clothes, near the front where it was easily visible. The craftsmanship was brilliant. If not for the gruesomeness of the scene, one would havemended her for her excellence in her knife-work.

    "Do you know where she could go?" They shook their head.

    We looked around the room and found a picture of her with her husband on it. For someone who was living with their lover, it was odd to keep a picture of their ex-husband on their bedside table.

    "The husband," Sebastian said, finally. I looked at him, confused.

    "She left her husband for some other man. The positioning of the body showed that she was blocking his way in the hallway and stabbed him from his front. She wanted to stop him from leaving the house. Corroborating that with the im of the neighbors that she was unsatisfied with the lover''s partying tendencies, you could say that she snapped when he was leaving. She doesn''t regret killing him and neither does she believe that she will be caught by the authorities."

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 39: Be His Assistant

    Chapter 39: Be His Assistant

    "How do you know that?" I asked, interested in his exnation.

    "She cleaned the kitchen, but not the rest of the house. She didn''t think she needed to hide the murder. The kitchen was clean, probably because she does it every time she cooks. It is an upational hazard."

    "And how does that say that she went to her husband?"

    "She has a picture of him on her bedside. She sometimes regrets leaving him. She wants him back. Such positioning of objects show the associations people have with things, and this shows her regret and hidden love for her husband."

    "Are you sure you are not reading gossip magazines?" I asked, smiling at his conviction.

    "I don''t read gossip," he said proudly.

    "I am sure you are already tracking the killer but get the address and number of her husband." The two nodded and led us out.

    "Why are you sure it was her?" I asked. "It could have been someone else."

    He turned to me silently. "Do you think it was someone else?" I shook my head. "Good, sometimes your gut will get you the answer faster than any knowledge from the book. Your gut is your biggest asset."

    We walked down the stairs and saw the men still surrounding the olderdy.

    "Should I try to talk to her?" I asked.

    Did we need to get the statement right now?

    "I think she requires some reassurance, but do it after the killer is found. She is a neighbour, so she must be distraught over it. We will also need the story."

    I nodded and walked down. I felt terrible for the confused older woman but also knew that this was something non-English speaking individuals faced when speaking to the police. There were records of misinterpreted words and coerced statements from people who were framed or misled to attest to something or take the me on themselves so that the cops didn''t have to do further work. It was a sad state of affair.

    We were in the portable monitoring room in no time. I could see Sebastian''s car from where I was, but we were farther away from it. A crush of people was surrounding the periphery of the building, trying to understand what was going on inside and why there were so many policemen. There were also a lot of policemen attempting to hold the crowd back.

    This was where all the rich people lived, so the paparazzi was not far away. It was distressing how they had gotten the scent of news and travelled this far.

    Sebastian had taken a backseat as the lead investigator came in and spoke to him. It made me wonder why we were still standing here.

    And I went ahead and asked him that.

    "Didn''t you say catching the criminal was not your job? Then why are we here still?" I asked. There were so many questions that I wanted answers to when it came to Sebastian Butler and the elusive world of criminal psychology. It filled me with a feverish need to know. It was a feeling I had tried to curb for a long time, but my upbringing had always made me a curious cat.

    Maybe Sebastian wasn''t wrong in assuming that I was a cat.

    Only, I hoped that it wouldn''t get me killed.

    "This will be the only time you will be able to see the process followed to catch a criminal. I want you to know that the system works and that you will be safe in their hands." Those words made me shudder. I had little faith in the system that had failed to find me for seven months and resorted to finally catching the murderer because I had somehow escaped the hell hole.

    "I don''t need to know this." I was firm in my belief.

    "Just because it failed you once doesn''t mean that it is incapable. You can trust me. Just watch. You will discover the true world of criminology and how the criminal thinks. You are invaluable in your skill-set. I also want to show you how worth the time it is."

    I would have said I was tired of his trials at getting me into his field, but it only held excitement for me. It was like I was finally learning that I was worth something, that my pain would not turn me into a monster but could also help me protect others from their miseries. I could understand others'' pains through myself. It was only natural that I have topare. We can''t know the significance of an event if we don''t ce ourselves in someone else''s shoes.

    I sumbed to his persuasion and sat back as another case was solved.

    .

    There was an epic chase on the street like the ones we see in movies. No one knew where she was headed until she went to a nearby food chain and ordered food. Someone posted a selfie with her. They tracked down her location and her car number, something they were previously unable to find.

    The husband was informed, too. He had been stoic at the face of crisis and waited for her patiently. He told them to let here to him and confess what she had done. It would be easier for the police to convict her, then. I didn''t know what exactly happened in those few hours, but the cops kept chasing her down the streets and blocked off all exits. After a talk with her husband, a distraught looking Dorothy Mitchell was escorted out of her own house, the one she shared with her husband.

    The footage from the police cars was all over the news, and people were horrified that the innocent and harmless looking chef couldmit such a crime. In the end, Sebastian was left in the room with her, a recorder recording their conversation. And I stared in awe as he interviewed her.

    He indeed was a sight to behold.

    All my dreams were rushing back to me, urging me to choose the path I had always promised to take, to use my education and do the service necessary for victims to get justice.

    I was convinced.

    I would be his assistant.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 40: Distinguish Her Follies

    Chapter 40: Distinguish Her Follies

    "Why do you think she hurt him?"

    The older woman had been distraught over the death of the younger man She was not able to speak in fluent English but had been the one who had called the cops and asked them to check on him. Lawrence was his English name. She had been sure that something was wrong when he didn''t show up for breakfast that morning.

    The younger man was a second generation immigrant who could speak Korean and was living away from his family, he missed home-cooked food and gravitated towards the elderly woman who offered him foods that he had grown up eating. While he was living with the chef, he had dissatisfied with the variety of dishes cooked by Dorothy. It was a pity that a world-renowned cook fed him but couldn''t quench his appetite for his mother''s food. Some other woman, probably her own age had given him that.

    "He came to me a couple of days ago and asked me to call the police if he didn''te for the meal without prior notice." Her voice wavered. She had yet to find out what had happened to him, but I was quite sure that she had guessed the fate of this young man, who had been killed by his lover.

    "Did he say why he was anxious?" I asked, hoping I was not pushing her too hard. My voice was soft and reassuring. I tried to give her the confidence to speak. She shouldn''t be interrogated like a criminal, she had just been a good neighbourhood aunt who wanted to take care of the man. She hadn''tmitted a crime for calling the police.

    I had heard whispers of the other policemen saying that he had a rtionship with this woman, as well. And I didn''t think it was important. Judging her for who she was with would be thest thing I would wish on anyone. There were talks of how he must have cheated and angered her to murderous rage. But what was murderous rage? What was this talk of someone who had cheated deserving death? Sometimes, I didn''t understand how humans think, how they could be so s about the life of another creature. It turned my stomach.

    "She came to my house and screamed at me. Said that I was a witch." I scrunched my brow in confusion.

    "Did you understand her?" I asked, suddenly doubt blooming in my heart.

    "Yes, her voice was enough. Lawrence was there. He apologized and left." Her face was full of worry. I knew she was curious to know the actual truth that no one had thought of telling her.

    ''Keep her in the dark. Get as much information as you can,'' the lead inspector had told me. And I thought he was talking about her being distraught after hearing about his gruesome death, but I soon understood what the talk was about. They wanted to keep their options open. A celebrity was hard to prosecute and public opinion left much to debate. They were going to see if this woman had some information that could overturn the case. She was simply a pawn, no one cared about her.

    The harshness of the situation horrified me.

    "How did you understand?" I asked, just to be sure.

    "I know a little English. I learned all the curse words," she offered me an unwilling smile. I leaned forward to press my palm on her hand, in the same fashion as Sebastian had done in the car. In a stroke of luck, it worked. The woman broke down into tears.

    Yes, it was lucky she cried. How I hoped that I could cry. At least she would get the chance to grieve.

    She had be friends with Lawrence''s parents, I found out. Her tears were apanied by information about her rtionship with the young man. She cried because she thought of him like a son. Her daughter had left for college and her husband had passed away, she had an empty nest and this man had given her hope to live. And now, she had embraced the idea that he was gone and she cursed herself for not calling the cops earlier and save him.

    "There was nothing you could have done." I told her. It took me hours to convince her that it wasn''t her fault. I learned to ept my grief, as well. I never cried, but it was okay to cry. I thought. It didn''t make me weak.

    .

    I had followed Sebastian to the morgue, witnessed as the parents had flown in on the first flight to see their deceased son. They were not allowed a proper farewell, there was not much left to bid adieu to. I found myself listening to their gut-wrenching cries as they cursed their son for his bad decisions, as they threatened death on the murderer.

    I heard the interview of Dorothy Mitchell. I was fascinated. I hade to know how to spot a killer, the look in their eyes gave them away. But it make me think about what really made a murderer. How did one recognize the monster in others?

    I had not seen the monstrosity in her eyes. In Dorothy''s eyes. The mour and lights and cameras had hidden it well, but she had finally revealed her true colors to the world. When she sat in the interrogation room, her hand handcuffed, theyers of her facades gave away to raw emotions. She was not, in the least bit, remorseful of the crime she hadmitted; she sincerely thought that her money and fame would get her out. I realized that there could be monsters of different types. The ones with consciences and the others who had been stripped off it.

    She was an example of thetter. Her fame had consumed her to the point where she could no longer distinguish her follies. It had made her believe she was invincible.

    And then there was me, trying to amodate my monster, trying to suppress my urges so that I could not be what I feared.

    It made me wonder what exactly I was.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 41: Since The Beginning

    Chapter 41: Since The Beginning

    "Sebastian?" I called him. He was driving.

    "Hmm?"

    "Did I do well today?" I saw him slightly stiffen. His hands clenched around the steering wheel.

    "Why?"

    "I didn''t like how they treated the case." My voice was cold, but the conviction was evident.

    "We need more conscientious people in this field. Humans are prone to assumptions and especially those that work in the repressive state apparatus. They always see the worst in people, sometimes it clouds their judgements. This was such a case." He chuckled. "If you are this concerned, why don''t you join me in my escapades?"

    "I am hungry." I pouted avoiding the topic.

    "I knew it!" He cheered. I reluctantly let him think what he would. It left me feeling a little pleased. "You keep avoiding the topic like the gue." His smile was heart-breaking. He looked happy that I had spent the day with him, and if I didn''t know better I would think it was because of that. I think he was happy because he had another case solved, and in less than five hours, at that. That must have been a new achievement unlocked for him. Not that he did much, to begin with, it was the police and the clear intention of the murderer who had killed the man, but I had to admit, the case was something out of a horror movie.

    "Do you like solving such cases?" I asked, curious.

    "I didn''t solve anything. They called me in so that I could analyze, interview and gauge the reaction of the murderer. It is important that I stay in the loop because they might need me to testify and solidify the case."

    "But criminal psychology and profiling are not considered absolute, right?"

    "It is a science, ites from centuries of looking into the behavioural changes, abstractions, and deviance of people whomit crimes. It can be said that it is a well-honed experiment with the given results. If psychology is considered a science, then so is criminal psychology. Profiling is just a coarse name for it. It is not wild spection, there are a lot of empirical studies and background research work that is done under the banner of criminal psychology. It is about deductions, just like detectives do."

    "But then again, your job is not to seek justice."

    "No, it''s not, but sometimes my expert opinion is necessary to coherently present the proof that has been found by the cops. And I be a necessary cog in the wheel." He shrugged.

    "And you said you had nothing to do with the judiciary."

    "I change my tune ording to what I think is necessary to keep you by my side, Evie. I am a cunning man; I keep my eye on the target."

    Iughed out loud, throwing my head back as the giggles escaped my lips.

    "But I must say, Evie, you were a big help today. Your calmposure and fast thinking had gotten us there faster. You have an acute sense of such things that I greatly appreciate. You even interviewed the witness for the police and didn''t budge at their pressure. You were the true hero today, Evie. I am d you were there with me." He paused. There was silence in the car.

    "Now, let us feed you. You might revolt otherwise," hemented, breaking the silence, atst, his lips twitching as I looked at him with a gleeful smile.

    It seemed that I was not fully worthless. There was a ce in the world that truly needed me.

    "I need some time," I said as he concentrated on his driving. My voice was low, but I was sure that he had heard what I had said.

    "For what?" he retorted absentmindedly.

    "To think."

    "About?"

    "Being your assistant." He jolted.

    "You are considering my offer?" I nodded. "Thank you, Evie. I couldn''t ask for anything else." We went back to silence.

    .

    I wrote my resignation letter that evening. I sat down with myptop and looked through pages for sample resignation letters beforeing to the conclusion that it was necessary to say that I had received a better opportunity that suited my expected pay and field of work. My boss was not happy with me, but she took my two-week notice and wished me luck. She didn''t ask me what my new job was, she said that I had the potential to do something greater than help people roam the cities. And for the first time in forever, I epted it as apliment and not as someone telling me that I was underachieving.

    As I sat down on the bus toe home, I realized what a lovely day it was. The sun was out, and though there was a slight chill in the air, the box filled with my belongings provided heat to my body. I had little in the office, to begin with, and when I cleaned it out, it all fit into a small brown box. Looking at the cubicle I sat in, I felt no nostalgia.

    When I got down from the bus and walked into theplex, I saw Sebastian walking towards me. He looked perplexed by the box in my hands and tried to sort out his thoughts.

    "Did you buy things for your apartment?" he asked. I shook my head, not wanting to give away the secret so soon.

    "Oh." He didn''t want to probe, I assumed. I found myself doing something I had never imagined I would do.

    "Do you mind if Ie over and cook dinner at your ce? My treat." He blinked, confused.

    "Sure, what ingredients do you need?" I shook my head in refusal.

    "I will text you all the details and buy the groceries myself. I have news that you will want to celebrate."

    "Okay." He didn''t look bothered by it. He typed something out on his cell-phone and went away. I shrugged at his obvious dismissal and wondered if it was a good idea to break the news to him so suddenly. Shouldn''t I have told him back then and let the matter go?

    But there was not much time left for me to mull over it.

    As I cooked the meal, Sebastian came over to the kitchen and ced something on the kitchen table.

    "Your contract. Sign it whenever you want." He gave me a sly smile before going back to his study.

    "When did you figure it out?" I shouted from behind him. He stopped, looked over his shoulder and winked.

    He winked!

    "Since the beginning. You speak in circles when you want to hide something." With that, he pushed his hands into his pockets and trotted away.

    I was amused and amazed at the same time.

    There was no escaping the eyes of Sebastian Butler.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 42: Outtake: Sebastian (1)

    Chapter 42: Outtake: Sebastian (1)

    Ross Reynolds was a man in histe fifties, years from his retirement, whose prehistoric methods of finding the criminal had gotten more people hurt than it had saved. He was very famous in the nies when he had cracked some high profile cases and made a name for himself in themunity, but growing age had left him with a deluded sense of his self. His grand ideas about his practices and ideals had clouded his mind to the point that he couldn''t see the clear images ced in front of him.

    I had been an intern with him for the past three months. And it had been a struggle. I had tried my best to get my points across to him with little sess. In his opinion, he was the only one who could be correct. It had taken a lot of time for him to understand one little concept that the other police force had guessed long ago.

    Evie Lewis had not run away from home.

    She had not killed her family.

    Just because the method of killing and disappearance was difference didn''t mean that the grand n was not made by the Elegant Butcher.

    Murderers changed their style ording to their mood. Charlie Lewis left behind a thick file of his findings on the suspect. He had theorized that the suspect had been missing for the longest time, only to be scarcely caught on CCTV. And the subsequent death of his family proved that he was unbelievably close to the truth.

    From what I had analyzed from the crime-scene photos, there were definite signs of struggle. There was also the fact that someone taller than Evie Lewis (who has a very petite girl) had attacked the family and brutally murdered them.

    The killing of family members were usually crimes of passion and while it could be said that in a fit of rage, the young girl had mangled her whole family, psychology said otherwise. Even in a fit of anger, it was impossible for a girl of sixteen to drag the bodies of her sleeping grandparents off their rooms and push them over the railing. The action showed a disregard for human life andck of emotion for the people the murderer was killing.

    Throwing two bodies over the railing, killing her mother in cold blood, and stabbing her father to death would surely be a mammoth task in itself, not to say that the neighbours had called in the police shortly after Charlie had himself called in. He had said there was an intruder in the house and he believed it was the serial killer whom he was tracking at that time.

    For the life of me, I couldn''t understand how a research assistant like me could do a better job at analyzing the crime scene than a professional who had spent years in the field. Did his gut really fail him?

    I was twenty-one at the time and at myst-phase ofpleting my PhD, thisst bit of experience would help me get information on my research. I was confident that I would pass this year, but this strange man, Ross Reynolds was boggling my mind with his sheer stupidity.

    We surrounded him in the police station where he had asked everyone to gather. We were looking at footage of the Elegant Butcher going in and out of the supermarket and walking around in the mall, looking for something to buy. The investigations had shown and on closer inspection, we realized how obsessive she was when it came to cleanliness. The registers showed that the clothes were not her size and often meant for people of different sizes. The frequency with which she shopped could beparable to the timelines of missing person reports.

    A child whose mother turned away for a moment and turned back to see the infant gone from the perambtor.

    An elderly couple who got into a cab and were never seen again.

    A young journalist who had disappeared one day on her way to work.

    The list went on and on. We tracked her card and her number; it was fascinating what the police could do once they set their mind to it. And they did just that.

    We were close to finding where the woman was, and any chance of finding the remains or survivors of her rampage could be found where she was hiding. It was curious that she shopped at different locations all the time as if she knew someone was watching her.

    As we discussed the probable locations the bodies were stored away, I heard a collective gasping from behind me. I followed suit and swivelled around to see what the fuss was about.

    If I had been a conspiracy theorist of an avid believer in the afterlife, I would have thought I was looking at a dead woman who hade back to life. But it was something else. The sight of her gave me chills.

    She was mumbling something under her breath which couldn''t be deciphered. I crouched low, trying to read her lips but her tangled hair got in the way of my sight. I waited as her jumbled grew louder and more pronounced. She was raging, raging against the fatigue in her body.

    "Save me!" the voice finally came. It was faint. She swayed to the wind and hurdled towards the floor. Everyone lurched forward to catch her, but the thud resounded before anyone to get close to her.

    "Save me" she whispered, over and over again. Stters of blood painted her white nightgown, her hair was knotted with clots of blood. Her bones jutted out from under her skin and her naked flesh looked like that of a ghastly corpse''s.

    Ross Reynolds rejoiced from the back. How he had recognized her, I don''t know, but when questioned, she dragged her head out of the pool of blood and mumbled her name under her breath.

    It still sends chills down my spine.

    "Evie Lewis."

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 43: Outtake: Sebastian (2)

    Chapter 43: Outtake: Sebastian (2)

    Evie Lewis saved herself.

    Evie Lewis saved three other people.

    Evie Lewis was closer to death than any of the other people who survived.

    But she made it.

    She was a miracle.

    .

    "I don''t know their names."

    ["Did you kill anyone?"]

    "No."

    ["Did you help her?"]

    "She forced me to to watch her."

    ["Anything else?"]

    "She made me eat what she ate." So cold. Her voice was so cold. I could feel how disgusted she was with herself.

    Eat what the Elegant Butcher ate.

    I sighed.

    ["What made you take to her diet?"]

    "I wanted to live. It was the only way."

    I couldn''t believe that Reynold''s was making these assumptions, but I wouldn''t doubt that it was possible that she had somehow been converted. Trauma was a weird thing; it could turn you into the perpetrator of pain, just because you didn''t want to be the one feeling the pain all the time. You wanted to reciprocate.

    ["Cannibalism"]

    That was the first time I saw her flinch. She had been a block of ice, not wanting to talk to anyone since she woke up. She had even made it hard for the doctors to decide if she was out of risk or not.

    With what little strength she had, she had asked them to get her interview over with. She didn''t want to be a part of the trial, and everyone attested that there was enough evidence for her to never go and testify in court. There were other victims, as well, who could testify in her ce.

    "Coercion," she responded.

    And she said nothing after that.

    .

    It had been decades since the Stone Man hadmitted murders and it was strange for him to suddenly emerge out of thin air andmit three crimes in a row. The style, no doubt was simr, but the finer details had been altered drastically. I could have chalked it up to the evolution of the method of madness, but it would be strange for a serial killer topletely change the mode of their killing and be a different person psychologically. It was very difficult for someone who was subconsciously killing to know the meaning behind their style of choice, but for someone who knew how the system and theory worked, it was easy to figure out how to dupe the authorities, yet this stone man wasn''t a part of theter. He was a simple man, living a simple life and circumstances had forced him to face his thirst for blood.

    We waited for hours as the girl inside sat and stared at the wall like nothing was the matter. She made no fuss as if used to waiting on people and calmly sipped on the bottle of water which had been given to her. Though the night had gone and she had been caught trespassing, the girl made no attempt at fidgeting of ming someone else for her deeds. Moreover, she was the one who had called Emergency and asked for a forensics team. From the information gained from the other members of this pack, none of them really knew much about her apart from her name and that she was a student. They described her as a silent girl who would get a murderous gleam in her eyes ever so often. They said that she had been violent when they found the body, but looking at the serene face of the girl, she didn''t look like the type to be adversely affected by situations so easily.

    I had sent in the overexcited intern of mine who had been nothing but a trainwreck since he became a part of my team. He had been the brightest student out of the ss of fools who had entered the university and I had thought himpetent enough to ept his offer when he said that he wanted me to be his mentor. I had thought that the little brain of his would be able to use the bookish knowledge to good use.

    s, that was not the case.

    I looked back towards the interrogation room, in which he had just entered. He seemed like he wanted to seem like the mean cop who would make you vomit all your secrets, but his nervous ticks were all evident. I could literally see him shaking in his boots.

    "We should start with your name," he said after a staring contest with the witness, who had won. She stared at him pointedly and didn''t give into the intimidating tone of Jameson. I was slightly impressed, but on further thought she had been a fun witness to look at since she entered that room. Her patience knew no bounds.

    "Can you please tell me your name," he gritted out, losing the battle all too oon. The interrogation hadn''t even begun and he had let her see his weakness. I saw something sh in her eyes and waited patiently for the show to unravel.

    "Evie Marie Lewis." There was something very familiar with the name, and in my trade, knowing someone''s name was never a good sign. I tried to wrack my mind and find out who she was, but it would have to wait untilter

    I had snapped out of my reverie by the time she was reaching into her purse to pull something out. I stiffened, waiting for her to produce a memento or something of the sort, just to throw off the intern, but instead, she pulled out a sleek looking card which I assumed was her identification. Though not asked for it, she had the presence of mind to clear the question about her identity before pursuing the matter further.

    "My ID. This proves my identity." Jameson looked perplexed by the exchange but pushed through and asked his first question.

    "Do you know why you are being questioned?" Rookie move. He was treating the girl like a suspect and not a witness.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 44: Outtake: Sebastian (3)

    Chapter 44: Outtake: Sebastian (3)

    "I imagine I am being suspected of killing the homeless man," came her confident voice. The scorn was evident and it further solidified my theory. She knew the inner workings of thew system and she had been questioned before, if not several times. I leaned forward, interested.

    "Good. Please retell the events that led to you finding the body."Dammit, that boy couldn''t even ask sharp questions. Was he looking for a sob story from the person being interrogated? How would he pinpoint the facies in the narrative if he didn''t press her to reveal the facts and minute details that she may have missed out?

    She went on to mention every little detail of what had happened. Cold and calcted, like she had practiced every word and had said it out in her head over and over again to have made the perfect decisive reply. I looked at the derations made by the other youngsters who were found on the scene with her and they went well with each other. Though I knew the girl was definitely not the killer, her answers were concise and interesting, something that had not happened to me in a long time. She was beyond my expectations.

    There was still a little leeway to question and I prayed that the intern would get it right. I had tried to train him for the past few weeks and been gravely disappointed by his failure to achieve what was expected of a student his age.

    "You realized he was dead without checking for a pulse, huh?"

    ''Okay, good. Not the question I would ask, but definitely not too stupid.''

    "When I reached him, I was sure he was close to dying. There was no fogging from his breathing and he wasn''t using the cardboard as a makeshift bed. I figured I would have to perform CPR but when I saw his face, I knew he had been dead for some time." Her movements provided me with no suspicions that she was lying. I gave her a pass andmended her on her quick thinking and presence of mind to have figured out something was wrong. It seemed that she had a keen sense of understanding of human culture and psychology, something which was cherished in my field of study.

    Quickly, my mind turned topare the two people who shared the room. One had been my student and the other was someone else who needed to be interrogated and the one I had not trained was definitely at an advantage. I didn''t feel any pride for my student, but I definitely wasn''t embarrassed by his performance. This girl was truly marvellous.

    And then Jameson did the most stupid thing he had done to date. He pulled out the crime scene photos and threw them down in front of her as if apprehending a criminal. It seemed that his need to win against thismoner had ruined hisposure and made him unable to see for himself how ridiculous he looked. He was affected by her, I could tell that. The confrontational mode he was in was not just because he felt threatened it was something else.

    It took me time to realize what it was.

    Lust.

    He liked how she looked.

    I looked at her curiously, trying to see what was appealing about her features. Apart from her brilliance, there was not much noteworthy about her face. I suppose one could call her beautiful, but I had never been one to appreciate someone on their outward appearance.

    "What do you see?" he asked, his face filled with smugness. I made sure that the recorder was on and he would see for himself how he had looked with that silly look on his face.

    "Is this your first time trying to crack a case?" I guffawed. The operator beside me looked at me in rm, not understanding why I had such a big reaction. Indeed, the girl was either observant or she guessed very well. I bet on the former. It was indeed his first time questioning, and I was almost sad that I hadn''t been the one to confront her in this meeting. It would have been a lot more interesting to face her head on and grill her until I figured out what exactly she was made out of.

    "Ah, I was right," she sounded smug, but I had to give it to her, she was naturally good at it. She deserved to act smug. "Youck insight and jump to conclusions." Point. "Did you expect me to react horribly? Gasping and gagging at the sight of the body? Or did you think that you could peg my indifference to the scene s proof of my guilt?" Interesting choice of words.

    "Are you admitting to your crime?" Though I hated to admit it, it was a good catch. If I was keeping points, this would be a major hit. He could peg it down as equivocation and y around this the narrative. Serious miss on the girl''s part for bringing up hypothetical situations. Not ideal when you are been questioned. Cops can put just about anything on you ang call you a criminal if it made their life a little easier. Jameson was one of those kinds of people, it was easy to tell.

    "No, I am educating you." Her punch line made me cluck my tongue. She really had a sharp mouth and no sense of self-preservation. She should know not to provoke those in power.

    "First of all, never show pictures All you''ve done is made me look at you like an ipetent fool."

    He was an ipetent fool.

    "And how did you know this much?"As the question was asked, I saw the calctive look in her eye. She manoeuvred around the question brilliantly. It got me interested. I was invested in this girl.

    "Maybe I get the knowledge from the same ce you do, Jameson."At that moment I had decided that there was no need dragging the conversation on between these two; it would only make me more delighted at the plight of Jameson.

    I would personally check her alibi and her ID.

    Fascinating.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 45: Outtake: Sebastian (4)

    Chapter 45: Outtake: Sebastian (4)

    "I think that will be all?" Her further words registered with me, much to my amusement. She sure knew how to deduce a scene.

    "You''re wrong. How would you solve the case?" I wanted to know as well. It didn''t escape me that she looked straight at me as if looking past the one-way mirror and peering into my soul. I stood there stunned before I could conjure my nerve and speak into the microphone.

    "Miss Lewis, you may leave. We will call on you if there are any further questions."

    .

    Jameson ran to me in haste and handed me the sheet of paper that Miss Lewis had passed him. He was ecstatic about something, what I didn''t know, but it seemed important. By the time I had nced at the paper, he had already rushed out without greeting me. I was irritated but chose to put my concentration on what was written. The name of the convention and Dr. Singh''s name.

    It startled me. I pulled out my phone from my trouser pocket and dialled his number.

    "Dr. Singh, this is Sebastian speaking. Do you know of Evie Lewis?" my voice was panicked. I had never seen her in ss, and this level of knowledge usually meant she was part of the department but had never showed up for my sses. Was that why I remembered her name? From registers where she hadn''t shown up? Or was it that my sses were not to her liking and she opted for someone else. Had Mr. Singh got her as an intern while I was stuck with this good-for-nothing who was possibly not going to amount to anything in life?

    That would indeed be sad.

    I couldn''t let such a talent slip out from under my hands, speaking so eloquently about a situation while she had stumbled upon it and analyzing her surroundings immediately showed inherent expertise in her.

    Had she not taken my ss because of the types of courses I taught? Surely, such a brilliant girl couldn''t be only interested in adolescent delinquents.

    "Sebastian, why do you sound so breathless?" he asked from the other side, confused by my excited state.

    "Dr. Singh. Evie Lewis," I said, far too excited for my own good. He was stunned into silence for a couple of days.

    "Did she get into trouble? Did she ask for me?" the older man seemed excited at the prospect.

    "She found a body and had a nice chat with my assistant. She gave an alibi that I need to check on."

    "Oh yes, we returned yesterday. Is she okay? Do I need to bail her out?"

    "No, no. She was just a witness, we were questioning her just in case. Is she a student in our department?" I asked, sincerely hoping that she was.

    "No. She is from the department of foreignnguages. She was with me there as a trantor."

    "I see." I was disappointed by the news of her not being from my department, but it also meant that she had not intentionally avoided my sses or taken other courses. It posed one problem, though. I didn''t know where to find her next. If she wasn''t a student of my department, it meant that all the analyses she spouted were a product of her own deduction and no amount of reading books or watching those trashy shows could make one understand that. It took a keen mind to pick up on such things.

    "Can I get her contact number?" I asked, not knowing exactly why I wanted it. But I still persisted. If my brain had blurted it out, there would be some use for it in the future. There was no harm in taking the number.

    Dr. Singh wouldn''t give out her number, but I was adamant. He asked me not to call and that he would ask her if he could pass on her number to him. All in all, he was all praises for the young girl.

    "She is just like her father, that one." The nostalgic tone to his voice got me interested. Where they acquaintances?

    "You know her parents?" I asked, fishing for information. "Were you friends with them?"

    "No. Her father was a big name in the police force. Charlie Lewis, you must have heard of him." I found myself nodding but then it struck me.

    "She is Charlie Lewis'' daughter? The one who" and it all came back to me. The happenings from six years ago, when I had spent night and day trying to figure out where this girl was, in what condition she was, shed across my mind. It had been a long time since I had felt that thrilled. It had been one of the first cases I had worked on, albeit under supervision but it had left a mark on me because of high profile and ingenious the circumstances of the case were.

    A brilliant detective bes prey to the criminal he is trying to capture. The killer ughters his family and takes the daughter captive for god knows how long. .And the daughter miraculously survives even though the serial killer only keeps people for about two weeks, maximum, before killing them off and getting rid of them.

    I also remembered how bloodied and bruised she had been when she entered the police station, pleading for help from the adults around her.

    "Save me," she had mumbled over and over again, looking terribly wretched and exhausted. I remember imagining how she had managed to live andmending her on her excellent survival skills. She was barely skin and bones. She had somehow managed to get help from a fellow victim and broken loose. Though she did not remember what had happened, they had found the serial killer, Elegant Butcher, as she hade to be known, in a pool of her blood, a baseball bat near her. How that baseball bat came near her or how Evie''s body managed to survive for that long and run so far from the ce of captivity I didn''t know but she had managed it.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 46: Outtake: Sebastian (5)

    Chapter 46: Outtake: Sebastian (5)

    I hurried home to go over the details of what had happened. Ross Reynolds had written a book on the topic but not once had he mentioned the chief''s daughter''s struggles or words that came from her. It could be said that she had been uninterested in talking to anyone who wanted to mize on her pain. Last I had heard from her, she had gone to a distant rtive''s house to recuperate. I got news after news of the other two victims dying but this one somehow survived. Time loses track of everything.

    .

    Alicia Williams. The Elegant Butcher.

    She had confessed to a series of crimes that she hadn''t been apprehended for, from shoplifting to sexual abuse to public indecency, but none of it matched the gruelling intensity of her vicious murderous side. She loved to shop and still does, from her time in prison, where she gets a full meal and spends her time scaring the other inmates with her psychotic behaviour.

    She liked shopping for others, but as an orphan who had spent most of her life in the system, she grew tired of the abuse. She wanted the perfect family, she figured and brought over people she would have wanted to impact her life. Sometimes she wanted to y the doting new mother, others she wanted to be doted on and brought on parental figures. She brought in lovers who suited her style. She yed house with them and used them as discard-able dolls she could use as food. Her love for all things sparkly had incited a curiosity for human flesh in her and she had thought it best to buy the vegetables fresh and get the meat fresh off the bone. And this was how she had treated those she considered family.

    When questioned why she had treated them so, she simply said.

    "I give what I get. They abused me so I got them back for their crime." And how did they abuse her, to be precise? By living a happy life.

    She had hated Evie Lewis for her perfect little family. She grew up with parents and grandparents and the coaxing of elders who wanted the best for her. She wanted a father like Charlie who could protect her and be her hero, and she felt betrayed that he was hunting her down, not simply disciplining her but dooming her to a life in prison. She didn''t want the person she considered her father to do that to her. So she threatened to take his family away from him, just as he had not given into her illusions about a family life with him.

    She creeped into his house and saw the source of all her grievances, the daughter she could never be. She yed with Evie because she hated her. She hated her for being favoured by so many people, whereas she was thrown away by her own parents and every other family that came after. They beat her and tortured her for being a shy little kid, and her adoptive parents showered her with gifts and not with love. It angered her. She wanted a sister to y with, so she got a younger sister she yed to the heart''s content with.

    But what had angered her to the point where she was ready to kill Evie?

    Evie had won the heart of every one of those people she had brought to y house. She had held them as they cried and reassured them; the victims were scared of Alicia and cried whenever she came into the picture. She grew tired of it.

    Then why keep her alive for so long?

    Because she was fun. Alicia said that she had always wished for a sister and one she didn''t particrly hate. They yed dress-up and cooked food together and they were happy, but her little sister, Evie, was deviant. She enjoyed ''caring'' for her, but when her sister grew more tiring, she would say that it was just a growing phase, that once Evie was no longer a teenager she would understand what her sister truly wanted for her.

    All of this may sound like a wild story, but it was the exact truth that Alicia had said. She had, in a twisted way, thought all of this true. She had, in her own way, adopting al her victims and made them a part of her growing family. She yed house with them and discarded them when they gave Evie more love than her.

    Her mind couldn''tprehend that one doesn''t simply fall in love with their captor. Stockholm syndrome is dangerous, but no victim of a serial killer usually feels like they are indebted to their kidnapper for saving them. She had misconceived how she hade off to them. She had known simple psychological terms and wanted to apply them on people and turn them into machines who could give her what she wanted to the dot. That was not the case. So she killed them.

    The courts ruled her sane and said she was a danger to society. A life sentence; a g time in prison where she could do what she pleased and remain unchanged as her victims and their families mourned for their ruined lives. What a lovely scenario. While she lived a pleasant but unhinged life, her victims killed themselves over the torture she had inflicted on them.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 47: Outtake: Sebastian (6)

    Chapter 47: Outtake: Sebastian (6)

    She was a different creature on campus. She was quiet and barely spoke to others even when spoken to. I had seen her a few times around campus, every time with a different professor from a different department, negotiating with them with her firm voice. Her skills were immacte, and she knew how precious she was. She didn''t y with them, just gave them her demands straight and these professors conceded to her. Such was the glorious power of Evie Lewis.

    I met her unexpectedlyter. I had been in need of a trantor and was too preupied with more important work to do it myself. I had called Dr. Singh to get me someone who he knew would be good. My mind had not gone to the elusive Evie Lewis then, but when I got her text message exining herself, her familiar number shing on my mobile screen, I was certainly pleased. By a twist of fate, she had been brought in front of me at a point in time when I required her services. It was up for negotiation if I believed in divine intervention or not but this was an opportunity I wished to use to my fullest degree.

    When Alec led her into the house, I peered at their conversation in the CCTV. I could hear her clear, confident voiceing from downstairs and leaned back against the staircase to listen in. Their conversation went well and she didn''t suspect that I had sent someone else. It was disappointing that she hadn''t known how I looked or done the research beforeing to meet me, my face was stered all over our university site because it was so appealing to new, prospective students.

    As she silently tranted the document, Alec came upstairs briefly telling me how he thought the girl extremely pretty andpetent. She was apparently eloquent and well versed in what she did. That was good to hear.

    Even though most of it was a test, I would have liked if my documents were tranted in their right spirit. It was for my book, after all.

    "There you go," she said, I could hear the closing of the file before she handed it over.

    "Done already?" Alec said, shocked by her speed. Of course, her brain worked fast, it had to be so; I couldn''t have judged her wrong.

    "I will look over the contents and let you know if you are hired." I knew she would be hired. She had to be. "If that is the case, I will send over a contract. Is that okay?" There was a silence following it. I grew panicked as I wondered if she had figured it out.

    In reality I had tricked Alec into thinking that I wouldn''t want to see her face when she is hired and therefore wanted him to go as me, I had taught him how to brew tea and left my shoes out, hoping she would catch on it andment, but so far she had said nothing of the sort.

    "I can assure you that you got the job, though," I heard him chuckle. It was something I was familiar with. Alec had a habit ofughing like this when he wanted to fornicate with someone of the opposite sex.

    I wrinkled my nose in distaste as he amused her with his petty tricks, hoping that she wouldn''t be one to be charmed by them.

    "Shouldn''t you ask Mr. Butler before assuring me?" There was silence. I found myself guffawing at that, finally at ease.

    She had picked up on my signs.

    "I''m sorry?" Alec replied, dumbfounded. I think he realized that he had no chance with this woman and that he had been caught redhanded.

    "He should be on that floor, right?" I took a step back, wondering if she had seen my shadow from where she sat, but it was impossible for her to know I was here, then had she made a wild guess to see if she was correct?

    "I knew there was someone else living here because of the shoes in the rack" Check. "but didn''t linger on it for long until I entered the room. The shelves consist of non-fiction books, mainly about psychology,w, crime, and social theory, but there was a magazine on the countertop with the pots of tea, which youter started reading." Intuitive. "You can definitely not brew tea and have little effort towards detailed work" She was also right in that aspect. "as you kept mixing up the process and the lids." Did he mess up the lids? Now I would have to relocate them. What was the use of teaching him the technique for so long if he had to butcher it with his incapability? "Moreover, the file you handed me was definitely not yours because you had no clue that the pictures were inside." There were pictures inside?

    "You were just rying what Mr. Butler had asked you to."

    "So, he would have to have clipped nails so that the gloves don''t tear, but you have longer nails that would definitely be a problem." Brilliant. Taking into consideration so many unnned constituencies, she had passed with flying colors.

    But Alec took it to another level. It was an interesting question, making her guess what his upation was.

    "You have a creative streak, but you run a business." The magazine he was reading was an economic one, he must have picked that up. But her guess was wild, true but wild if it weren''t for that.

    "You use theputer a lot. So you run a business that needs creativity and innovation." He worked as a graphic designer in his spare time but was actually the CEO of his ownpany.

    "I can''t pinpoint the exact job, though." I sighed in relief. This meant that she had a natural progression of logical thought which led her to those conclusions.

    She was observant and unafraid to voice her opinions. Very valuable qualities.

    Then she went onto exin her thought process and I was amazed. For someone as greatly talented as her, she could easily overtake people who had been studying the art for years.

    "People who type onputers andptops usually have harder darkened skin on the underside of the wrist where the skin rests against the surface of the desk orptop. You have those. The intensity of the darkness and roughness of the spot is a testament to how much work on theputer you do every day and if it is for professional purposes."

    I peeked out of the staircase to see her face for once, but she was alreadying my way. I walked away quickly to avoid meeting her. As she passed, I saw a bewildering smile on her face. I was confused.

    She couldn''t have known I was there. But I had clearly seen her throwing nces in my general direction.

    When she had left, Alec came to me and gushed about how pretty andpetent she was, like he had not done it once before.

    "She''s going to be my assistant, not yours. Wipe your drool from your chin," I scoffed. "Pathetic, thinking that my employee is his for the taking."

    "Assistant? Employee? She is hired?" he asked, excited.

    "Yes," I confirmed. "But you need to leave immediately. You have outstayed your wee." I flipped my book open and began reading, leading him to protest and grumble, not giving him the time of my day.

    He had served his purpose. It wouldn''t be good to bring him around Evie after that meeting. [Author''s Note: And that is why you don''t see Alec. He is not permitted to visit when Evie is around.]

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 48: Outtake: Howard Hunt (1)

    Chapter 48: Outtake: Howard Hunt (1)

    [No one yed with me at school today.]

    They say kids are ruthless, and they aren''t wrong in assuming so. Kids have no filter and say whates to their mind. Their reactions are instantaneous, sharp and cutting in the face of polite conversation, and nerve-wracking when they ask embarrassing questions. But what does that make of other kids who were forced to grow up too fast, who stayed in the corner doing absolutely nothing and watching as the others loiter around merrily and y? They became outsiders.

    From an early age, Howard learned that if he stayed quiet and didn''t make a fuss, no one woulde to harm him. He followed this idea of his religiously until he entered kindergarten. His mother dropped him at school on some days and the others she would hand him over to the neighbours whose kids went to the same school. Howard quickly learned that life in school was different. The neighbours'' kids turned demonic when at school, boisterously running behind one another and making new friends.

    A cute looking girl in pigtails came up to him and started a conversation.

    "What''s your name?" she asked, her childish voice ringing in his ears. He didn''t want to talk to her, he knew not to meddle in other people''s business and this girl was not to his liking. He noticed the kids from his neighbourhood peering at him, more like ring at him as he tried to avoid the girl.

    Howard remained silent and waited patiently for the girl to think him uninteresting and move on. But she persisted.

    "Can''t speak?" she cocked her head to the side and asked him. She was one of those kids that enjoyed talking to others, especially those that didn''t gel well with the other kids. Her parents had taught her to be friendly, but she was unhappy that this boy seemed to give her no attention.

    She was going to move forward when she heard a small voice reply.

    "Howard." She pped her hands, overjoyed to have finally gotten the reply.

    "Let''s be friends," she said. He shook his head, curling up into himself. His mother had warned him against making friends. They were dangerous, she had said. So he remained unshaken as the now sour-faced girl walked away, grumbling. He spared her a nce and saw the neighbourhood boys whispering amongst themselves, pointing at him and grinning.

    He knew trouble when he saw it. He had never yed with other kids before, but he knew they were loud and ugly and irritating, his father said so. He believed his father. He didn''t want to displease his father, so he remained a silent boy, waiting for his father''s approval.

    The boys neared him, almost predatory. In their child bodies, they must have seemed harmless but they possessed the power to destroy the sanity of a human being.

    "You like Lily?" they teased out of nowhere.

    "No, he doesn''t even have friends."

    "My mother said his father is an asshole. What is an asshole?" one of the kids shouted.

    Howard cringed back, knowing that the word was bad.

    His father was a nice man. He only became angry when he drank or Howard spoke in a loud voice.

    "Don''t say that," he grimaced.

    "What? Doesn''t he beat your mom?"

    "No, he doesn''t!" he shouted, finally snapping. His eyes widened in shock as realization dawned. He had screamed. No one likes a loud kid. He pped his hand over his mouth and felt tears blur his vision. The tears shed and rolled down his cheeks, his nose ran.

    "What a weirdo," the kids muttered in different tones as they walked away, utterly bewildered by the actions of the cid boy who never dared fight back.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 49: Outtake: Howard Hunt (2)

    Chapter 49: Outtake: Howard Hunt (2)

    [Dad hit mom.]

    His mother was busy cooking dinner. His father, a police officer had yet to be done with his work and wouldete. His mother had helped him do the homework and gave him a delicious snack to eat before dinner. His lunch had been taken by the stream of boys who had made it their mission to tease him. He really enjoyed sitting by and watching his mother cook. She was a beautifuldy. Having run away from home with her high school sweetheart, the woman got pregnant soon and found herself strapped with a baby. No college education and a baby on board meant that she would be staying in the house, taking care of the household duties while her husband took care of bringing in money.

    Money was tight all the time, but they managed. Howard didn''t feel like they lived poorly. Sure, they didn''t have their personal car or a fancy house like some others in his school, but he lived afortable life.

    When his dad got home, he would have run to him and showed him the picture he had drawn in ss, or the many things he had learned, but instead, he silently got off the stool and came to a stand in front of his dad, who looked very grim.

    "Are you done with your homework?" Nod.

    There were no more words said to the boy. Instead, his father turned to his mother and started speaking.

    "Why has dinner not been cooked yet?" he asked, half-yelling.

    Howard flinched, but his father caught his action before he could correct his posture.

    "Do you have something to say, boy?" he urged, his voice menacing. It was only then that Howard realized that the distasteful scenting from his father was a sign of his bad temper. Usually, when he smelled that way, he would yell and scream at him foring too early and ruining his life. It was not every day, but he was gentle when he didn''t stink.

    "No," he said softly, not wanting to rm his father, but that was the exact effect his words had.

    "Did you just talk back to me?" His scream was deafening. Howard wondered if his bullies would be able to hear his father screaming and tease him the next day. Again. He wondered if they would call his father bad names.

    Kids are impressionable and they don''t know what is right or wrong. They grow up to be adults with a skewed view of life, their childhoods shaping what they think to be normal. That day was normal for Howard. He grew up in his small life, watching this happen often. His father was his father. His mother was his mother. And he was their son. Their family was dear and everything would be alright if they didn''t disappear from his life.

    The strike came as soon as his father was done with his rant. His head swivelled at the force, he stumbled, his tiny body unable to take the strike of his brute father. He didn''t cry, but his mother did. She flew towards them, the spoon from tasting the food still in her hand, hoping to protect her child.

    "Stop it!" She screamed and leapt towards them. She positioned herself between them, ready to take the blows.

    "That is my child," his father sneered and said. "I can beat him if I want." He shoved her away, his angereding with renewed force. He kicked the little boy, making sure to hit the ribs. Jolted, the boyy on the floor, hoping the pain would go away.

    He knew if he was quiet the pain would stop.

    Yet his mother didn''t understand that she only aggravated him further. Her body came between them again. And the sounds of his kicks echoed in the room, his angry slurs and punched followed. She took them dly, hoping she would protect her child for a little longer.

    She stood in front of the mirror, her face looking less like her own with every passing day. She had grown old over the few years she had stayed with the man, but she couldn''t find it in herself to run away.

    "Don''t be like your father," her voice rang out as she patted her son to sleep. Howard dazedly listened to the words but couldn''t make out the meaning. "Don''t be like your father," she repeated. He fell asleep.

    That night he dreamt that he protected his mother, that he fought away the monster who had tried to kill them.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 50: Outtake: Howard Hunt (3)

    Chapter 50: Outtake: Howard Hunt (3)

    [Henry is a cry-baby. I don''t like Henry.]

    He was ten when his mother got pregnant again. He was old enough to know what it meant, and he was unhappy with his father forcing himself on his mother and impregnating her. He had grown up faster than other kids because his father had ensured that he be disciplined at every turn. Whatever little rebellious moments he had were quenched by the raging fire of his father''s wrath.

    He realized that he had to protect his mother, that the demon in his nightmares was his father. He needed to vanquish this demon so that they could live happily ever after. His mother grew more sorrowful as the pregnancy continued.

    She became more restless, unable to keep her temper when his father screamed at her. He was happy that his father had diverted all his anger on him and not towards his mother. He was very pleasant to his mother, on asion, a rare urrence in the ten years of his existence. At least she was safe for some time.

    When Henry was born he had ten fettle toes and fingers. He was a cute ball of fur, but his constant crying left Howard sour. His mother spent all her time tending to the new baby who only knew how to poop, eat, and cry. He hated that it needed constant attention.

    Henry slept between his parents. Howard slept alone. It was amazing that he didn''t remember getting such a treatment, his mother who had always cherished him had suddenly forsaken him for the new child. He had been left untended to, sometimes being babysat b the neighbours, always hoping not to be bullied by those kids who called him ridiculous names.

    Kids were harsh. Sometimes Howard felt like he would rather spend his life with his father than live a day associating with them.

    His father sometimes came home and fed the baby and patted him to sleep. His father always spoke to him in single words, he didn''t spare him a nce. It was humiliating for him to lose out on something that caused such a big nuisance in their lives.

    Even when he was hit, the only reprieve was when scared Henry would cry out. Only then would his father tend to the baby as his mother tended to him. His mother who had flown between them to stop him from hitting had taken to sitting in the corner and crying her eyes out as she watched him being hit.

    "I need to live for Henry," she would tell him at night when she came to tuck him into bed. His bruised eye would not open, but he would squint through to look at her disappointing face once. "I''m sorry," she would apologize, her voice pleading for him to understand.

    He didn''t understand how her mother couldn''t protect him. How would her mother live if his father killed him in a fit of anger? Was he not important enough to protect? Was Henry more important than him? Had he been forsaken?

    It all changed the day they went out on a family pic. Howard silently trudged behind as his father led the group. Little Henry was in his mother''s arms, sleeping soundly as they moved to the spot where they would rest. When they reached, his fathermanded for refreshments.

    The bottle of beer was taken out, as was his little cup from which he would drink. His mother sat silently and watched him chug the beer down, reminding him that the way back was rough terrain and he needed to be sober.

    Howard felt his dder protest. He wanted to go pee, but asking for his father''s permission was not an option. It wasn''t until his mother noticed his contorted expression that she asked him to go tend to himself but within a reasonable distance. He scampered away, clearly in difort but didn''t get far enough before he heard his father mutter under his breath.

    "Nuisance," he heard. His heart broke a little, but he didn''t want to show it on his face.

    A strange fear gripped him while he wasing back. He feared that they would leave without him. He hurried back only to fall when they were in his view. His mother sat, her breasts exposed as she fed the baby, unable to get up. His grumbling father got up and tended to him. That evening she overheard the conversation from downstairs.

    "You really do care for the boy," his mother said. He heard his father burst out into augh.

    "I would have helped anyone in that situation," he replied.

    Howard moved away from the site, knowing that he would get a beating if he was found. He cried himself to sleep that night.

    Truly for a moment, he had felt that his father''s harshness was just a faade, that the man loved him and just pretended to be angry all the time, but his imagination had been wrong. He would have helped ''anyone.''

    Howard was just anyone.

    Inconsequential.

    Unimportant.

    Alone.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 51: Outtake: Howard Hunt (4)

    Chapter 51: Outtake: Howard Hunt (4)

    [I hope they all die.]

    Howard''s mother cooked him a meal and sent him to school. It was walking distance from their home and Howard was used to holding her hand and going to school every day. That day, his mother picked him a fancy lunch and dropped him at the gate. He happily went inside, containing his excitement in his heart. He had stopped going to school with his neighbours'' kids as he had told his mother about how unpleasant it was to be with them all the time. Instead, Henry slept during they were out and his mother coulde back before he woke up in the morning.

    Henry was still a toddler, just starting to speak and babble. His mother had been growing older every day and she looked older than she had a few months ago. Henry loved their father, he couldn''t get enough of him, always sitting on hisp and eating dinner. Howard''s father was much more silent with Henry, he wasn''t beaten, and Howard didn''t want his baby brother to be hit under any circumstances.

    But it also hurt Howard to think that all of his father''s hatred was directed towards him.

    His day at school was spent in rtive quietness. None of his ssmates made too much fuss and he had his lunch well. As school came to a close, Howard felt a bubble of excitement flood him. He couldn''t wait to tell his mother how much he had enjoyed. It was not every day that his mother prepared such a grand meal for him.

    As the other parents flocked around the gate, his mother was absent. He waited for a long time but she never came. The teachers eventually took him inside and started calling the house phone so that someone would pick them up, but no one answered.

    He grew tense. He knew that his mother always picked up the phone. He had seen her run to the phone at all times of the day so that no one would call them in vain, be it a telemarketer or someone from his father''s side of the family.

    It was almost sundown when one of their neighbours came to the rescue. They had not seen her mother get out of the home and gone to call on her. She might have forgotten that she needed to pick Howard up.

    No one had answered the door. Growing more worried, the neighbour had peeked inside the house through the kitchen window to find Howard''s mother lying in a pool of her own blood. Emergency services were called and the woman survived, but everyone forgot about poor Howard who waited patiently for his mother to arrive.

    When Howard reached home, there were a lot of police cars in front, their lights shing. The police went from house to house to check on what made the woman want to kill herself. Howard didn''t understand why he couldn''t go inside his home. Howard didn''t understand why he had to sleep over at someone else''s house with his younger brother Henry when his mom was right there.

    Weeks passed, psychological evaluations were done. His mother returned home, a shell of herself, barely smiling, barely talking to them apart from when it was necessary. His father had stopped hitting him, but he had also stoppeding home every night. He spent most of his time out of the house or grovelling in front of his wife.

    A year passed.

    His mother grew stronger.

    One morning he woke up to find the house empty, Henry sleeping peacefully in his bed and his mother nowhere in sight. The familiar fear from before crept into his heart.

    He called his father and let him know that he couldn''t find her. He stumbled home, running out of the car and entering the house in a hurry. He found a note on the dining table.

    ''I can''t do this anymore.''

    Howard didn''t hear from his mother after that. She had left him in Hell all alone. Howard protected his brother from the wrath of his father. He brought up his brother while his father drank and gambled his time away. He took the beatings.

    Finally, he grew to hate.

    He really hated his father.

    He really hated Henry.

    He hoped all of them would die.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 52: Outtake: Howard Hunt (5)

    Chapter 52: Outtake: Howard Hunt (5)

    [Piggy is dead.]

    The little frog in their ssroom, kept as their pet, was named Piggy. Definitely, the kids had worked hard toe up with the name. Little Piggy was a friendly little thing that all the kids loved. Howard loved the pet too. He wanted to take it home so that he could keep it. But he knew his father would oppose and have a fit so he decided on hanging around the little tank it was kept in quite frequently.

    Sine students made fun of him for his attachment to the frog. Others said they could see the resemnce between the two. Howard was not a very handsome boy, but that didn''t mean that the kids could call him names. The teachers often let Howard feed the little frog and take care of him, the boy was overly attached.

    Howard came home every afternoon and blurted out how fun his day was to his mother. On days he couldn''t make it to school due to his injuries and bruises, he would miss Piggy dearly. He would dream of running away with his mother, with Piggy tucked under his arms. It was a dream he frequently had.

    Once she ran away, leaving him to the monster, she never came back to take him with her. She didn''t even care for the child she had sacrificed his wellbeing for. Didn''t she want to live for her youngest son and threw him under the bus for it? Didn''t she apologize for wanting to live so that she could help her son? Yet, she had escaped without either of them. What a strange incident.

    Howard could only find sce in the little pet he hade to love.

    What else was left for him?

    He would gently stroke the skin of the pet and talk to it as the other students went to y games. The teachers would often share their lunch with him, knowing how he would go hungry if not for their sporadic meal sharing. The boy was barely functioning and without his mother, he was an absolute disaster. His brother still drank form at times and munched on mashed food. He tried to keep track of what he had seen his mother do, but there was only so much he could do with his little hands.

    On days when Howard didn''t know how not to cry, he would sit silently beside the tank and talk to the little frog.

    One afternoon when all the kids were out, he decided on ying with his friend. Piggy was silently sitting in his tank, unmoving at the face of Howard''s calls. It was usual for the pet to not give much importance to others especially because it was in its nature. If it was any other day, Howard wouldn''t have minded, but that afternoon he had been in a rancid mood. He wanted the attention, he craved it. Yet no one he knew gave it to him. He walked to school and he walked back, even though he was young. He often stayed back at school to finish his homework so that he didn''t have to do it at home. It was every day.

    He was tired.

    Piggy was not giving him much importance.

    He hated it.

    He picked out the metal ruler from his pencil bag and started poking at the pet, growing angrier with every passing second. He remembered how his father reacted to him, ignored him even at the face of his tears. He remembered how the cry-baby of his brother had taken up all his time, stolen what little childhood he had left from him.

    It gave him pleasure to be able to take revenge.

    Why did he have to be the one who always suffered? Why did he have to be the one who was killed day and day again for crimes he didn''tmit. He didn''t want to bepared to others at every stop in his life.

    His neighbours'' kids were more social? What was he to do about how they were? Why did he have to pretend to be a jolly boy when all he wanted to do was cease to existpletely?

    No, he feared death. He feared being lost to the world, but for the life of him, he couldn''t continue to live on like an outcast, a mediocre being ho was sapping off of others'' energy and wasting the oxygen off the. He didn''t want the existence of a mere parasite.

    The scene grew more gruesome. He felt sick to his stomach as he stared at the body of his beloved pet.

    At least he was killed before he could leave Howard, too.

    He took out a paper towel from his bag and wrapped Piggy up. He threw him out of the window, scared that someone else would find out what he had done, that he had be a monster just like his wretched father.

    He left the ss in a rush. He called in sick and demanded to walk home.

    The next day when the teacher told him of Piggy''s disappearance, Howard cried. Not in sadness, but in guilt. He started to believe that he was the one who had driven all those people away as if those wounds that he had received were just. Maybe his father had understood what he was and therefore treated him so. He didn''t go to school on the day they found Piggy brutally murdered. He knew what had happened but no one ever told him of the incident, fearing that the poor child would be further traumatized.

    No one suspected him.

    He was just a mediocre child in a hard position. Surely, he was not capable of inflicting pain on others. Such apassionate child.

    ---------

    [Donate @ paypal.me/SunScar9 and /sunscar9 to ensure I don''t starve.]

 Chapter 53: Outtake: Howard Hunt (6)

    Chapter 53: Outtake: Howard Hunt (6)

    [Why am I so useless?]

    Howard made breakfast every morning. His drunk slimeball of a father kept screaming at him to get a better job even though he had not the education or funds to afford schooling. His dad was paid enough as a police officer to provide a good life for him, but all of it came to no fruition. He had wanted to study loads of things in life, go to many ces, but that father of his wasted all his money away in drinking and gambling.

    What respectable citizen and social worker could make his kids suffer in such a way?

    He was twenty-three at the time and struggling with two jobs and the pressure of raising his younger brother who constantly clung onto him and asked him profound questions he didn''t know the answers to.

    Henry Hunt was a bright child, much like his younger self, curious about the world and waiting for everything to fall to his feet. But he was no longer a child. His father had long forsaken him, and when he grew to look like his mother, much like his elder brother, he got more furious at both of them.

    Howard took the beatings willingly, not wanting his younger brother to suffer the sameplex family life that he had, but he would sometimes fail when he finished his jobte and came back home to find his brother, head hanging, tears streaming down his cheeks, waiting toin to his older brother of the unfair treatment of his father towards him. Howard would patiently listen.

    Often, he would feel inferior to his younger brother, who he knew would have a much better life than he did. He had paved the way for his sess and nothing could have stopped Henry from getting to fulfil his dreams, dreams that he had projected onto his younger brother, of a faithful rtionship, of devotion to one another, and abiding faith that the universe would make their lives better.

    The thirteen year-old-brother made him proud, but also put fear in him. Henry had aplished a lot more than Howard at that age.

    One evening while he worked at the local mall, a familiar figure greeted him. She was a fine-looking young woman who had been in his ss for all his life. Lily, her name was. And he still remembered how chirpy she had been as a child.

    She had walked up to him and asked him for the receipt before she noticed him entirely.

    "Howard?" she whispered, dumbstruck at seeing her schoolmate working at the store at that age. She had always thought that he would get into some famous university and achieve a lot of things when he grew up, she had idolized him for how he had possessed his body and make himself look important despite his shabby looks.

    He was stunned that she had remembered. They came from a small town where everyone knew the other people and it was not a secret that Howard was one of the more insignificant beings in their city, yet this girl who had turned out to be extremely pretty had somehow remembered him.

    "Lily," he muttered under his breath, embarrassed to be seen working there. He had hoped himself to be better than the position he was in currently and confronting a ssmate while he was at work was thest thing he wanted to happen to him.

    "How have you been?" she asked, delighted at having met him again, not picking up on the difort he was showing her. He tucked his head and kept scanning the barcodes, hoping to escape this embarrassing situation at all costs. He wondered if she wouldugh at him.

    "Fine," he said, his voice barely audible.

    "You''ve never been one to speak much," she grinned. "What have you been up to recently?" She revealed no malice in her question. She was simply curious. She had a small crush on Howard for the longest time and found it apt that they had met on her holiday. He might be on the other side of the counter but she didn''t think the job to be inferior.

    "Working here and there." His words were choppy.

    "I was wondering what had be of you. I am so d we met." He simply nodded without replying to her verbally. "I just finished my masters and got a job. I was in town for a bit. Would you mind if we hung out for a bit?" she asked, a small, shy smile on her lips.

    "No," he gritted through his teeth. He was sure that she was luring him on purpose, that she was doing it to humiliate him further. She had been the source of her torment for years, boys teasing her for her attention. She had been the reason he had been bullied. Why would he be associated with her?

    "Then"

    "I said no." His tone was absolute. He cut into her words and then went back to bagging her things.

    "You don''t want to speak to me?" she muttered, hurt by his harshness. He didn''t reply. She silently paid and went away, wondering if she had done something wrong.

    Howard glowered at his hand and wondered why he had been so harsh on her, but chalked it up to his bad temper.

    Indeed, his temper was bad. He got it from his abusive father, but this time it was triggered by his need to impose his superiority. He had nothing going for him, and a simple harsh reply could make him feel more in control of his life than talking to her and finding out how good her life was going. He didn''t need to listen to her smug self-serving words.

 Chapter 54: Outtake: Howard Hunt (7)

    Chapter 54: Outtake: Howard Hunt (7)

    [I took Henry with me. Dad is crazy.]

    The television was on in the living room, Henry sat on the couch watching his favourite show andughing at theedic scene on the screen. Howard was in the kitchen, preparing supper like every other day before he left for another shift at work. Their father had yet toe home and Howard felt like his times were gettingter as the days passed. He watched the clock in anticipation and waited for his father to finish his shift ande home.

    He knew what state he would be in. Drunk out of his mind, a blubbering mess that was ming his children for how his life turned out. It happened every other day.

    His illusions that his father was a good man had broken when he started to realize how they lived afortable life. His father''s pay was not exorbitant, but the bribes he got was enough to keep their family fed. But since he had grown older and his reputation growing bleaker, people had stopped revering him. That brought less money to the house and therefore Howard had to go out and make sure that they had enough to keep their stomach''s full.

    It didn''t help that his father spent his time gambling away the little money he had saved and the college fund he had spoken of when they were young, ckmailed him with to keep his son by his side had vanished over time. The debts mounted.

    "You little shits," he heard from the distance. The door to their house had been opened and closed. Howard could hear the television being switched off. He could imagine his brother''s panicked state as he awaited his father''s abuse.

    Howard sighed as he wiped his hand on the apron and went out of the kitchen.

    "Noise pollution," he shouted, making Howard cringe. The sound was loud and in the dead of the night, he was pretty sure the whole neighbourhood could hear this one-sided conversation. "You switch on the TV and make so much noise that the neighboursin!" he said.

    The little boy of thirteen looked peeved. He was at the age where he wanted to be rebellious, where he wanted to show how superior he was to everyone else.

    "We don''t make noise. You do." There was silence for a minute. Howard moved forward wanting to keep his father at bay but was shoved aside by the man. He flew at the teenager in a rage, his fist flying.

    "Father," he screamed. Though his words were formal, nothing about his stance said so.

    The younger boy kept babbling as he took punch after punch.

    "They say you are an asshole. They''re right," he choked.

    "Why didn''t mom take us with her?"

    "Because she hated your guts." Howard heard his father say. He sucked in a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as the words went into his head.

    "Henry did wrong. Henry shouldn''t have talked back," he tried. He wanted to put himself between Henry and his father, but the little space between them made it impossible for the alcohol ridden madman to be pulled away.

    "I''ve pampered him too much," the man growled. Howard stiffened, recognizing the tone of his voice. The lowness in his tenor meant that he had nned for something bigger, some fate more gruesome than the beating he had just given. "He needs to be taught a lesson."

    He moved back a step, an evil smirk on his face. Howard somehow gauged what wasing next and rushed to his brother''s side, ushering him out of the room as his father went into the kitchen. He stumbled drunkenly, but years in the service had made him resilient. He moved steadily.

    "Go upstairs and lock your room," he advised gently before shoving the boy towards the direction of the stairs. "Don''te down. It''s not safe." He knew how brutal his father could be when he had that wicked grin on his face. He had dozens of cigarette marks on his body to prove the existence of such events.

    Henry understood what was being said and went up the stairs. Howard heard the click of his door before he could calm himself down.

    "Where is that brat?" his father asked. Howard swivelled around in fright, having not heard the footsteps of his father. He usually dragged his feet when he was drunk but he had not made a single sound. Or was it because he was too preupied with protecting his brother to notice the sound of his heavy, deafening footsteps?

    "He''s not here," Howard muttered as he stared at his enraged father. It was not the first time lying to him, but the situation was ghastly. His father stood there, wielding a knife in his hand. Howard couldn''t help but feel terror seeping into his bones. "Keep the knife away," he gently said, hoping his father would listen to him. But s, nothing of the sort was about to happen. He wasn''t that lucky.

    "Don''t order me around, boy," the man seethed, his chest heaving with his words. He looked out of breath and diseased from the years of abuse on his body, yet he was still alive to beat them. Howard couldn''t help but be amused by the twisted scheme of fate.

    "Don''t think yourself so important," he found himself saying. Not being able to control the words that rushed out of his mouth. He wanted to p himself for such a slipup but in that situation, he could do nothing but stare in horror at the man standing in front of him.

    A guffaw left his father''s lips but he dared notment further.

    "If you are not earning money, then you aren''t allowed to speak in this house. Hell, that boy is useless, kill him and be done with it." The knife dropped from his hand and he walked over to the couch to sit and switch on the television. "It''s so warm," he frowned andmented, pressing his palm against the side of the television. The conversation ended there, but Howard knew that he could no longer live under the same roof as his father. He packed his brother''s and his bags in the dead of the night and escaped with what little money he had left. He would not let his life slip away so easily, and he would not leave his brother like his mother left him.

 Chapter 55: Outtake: Howard Hunt (8)

    Chapter 55: Outtake: Howard Hunt (8)

    [Henry is at fault.]

    Howard scrubbed the stables clean in the little farm he had been working in. He was busy all day long, but the living and pay was good enough to keep him there. They had been there for about a year and everything was going well.

    Henry grew taller every day and seemed to tower over the other kids in the block. He was fourteen at the time, and quite popr with the girls. He was also quite handsome looking, much like their estranged mother who had left them when they were a child.

    Howard got news of his father and his drunken antics from people from his old town who had kept his location a secret from his father. They all knew how harsh the man was on everyone.

    Word of mouth said that he was diseased and not taken care of, he had been diagnosed with cancer and was very likely going to die from it because he had neither money for the care required for one to recover from it. Howard remembered thinking about the matter and scoffing.

    It was on one of those particr days that he received a call from his father. The manager of the farm had called on him as he worked in the stables and asked him to pick up the phone. The man was apparently asking for Howard and he thought it was one of his neighbours calling to see what he had been up to.

    "Hello?" he said into the phone. There was the sound of light breathing from the other side.

    "Come home," the other person said, startling Howard immensely. It was a voice he knew well and hade to loathe. Yet there it was, vulnerably asking him to return home.

    "Why?" he asked, not wanting to give away the fear that was tingling up his spine. "I am not going anywhere near you." He said roughly. He was about to hang up when he heard his father''s cough from the other side.

    "Kid, I am sick. You grew up in front of my eyes. I am your father. Surely, you won''t abandon me!" he coaxed, but Howard was beyond angry. How could he dare to ask him toe back?

    "You beat me up every day and used me of several crimes I didn''tmit," he used.

    "I was wrong, pleasee back," he pled.

    He was close to hanging up but a sick sense of satisfaction overcame him. He wanted nothing more than to watch his father slowly wither away, his body rotting from his disease, being able to do nothing as he experienced excruciating pain. He would have gone back for that simple reason, but he knew how devious that father of his was. He could have made up lies and spread them so that he could empathize with him ande back to take care of him.

    No, Howard was not going back to that ce ever again, absolutely not when he knew what would happen to him if he went. Not only him, but also Henry would be abused by his father yet again.

    He coldly hung up the phone and left the house.

    He would only return to the house the day his father died and shoot his body in his grave just to make sure nothing could bring him back. Mercy? He didn''t have those sort of ideas for a man who pretended to be sick and leeched off his sons. Mercy? He didn''t have it for the two-faced mother of his who left him when it mattered the most. Mercy? He didn''t even have it for the brother of his who made sure to steal his parents from him and make him live like a ve in his own home. He was done with them. He would no longer have anything to do with these people. He was decided.

    .

    Everyone slept peacefully at the barn, but Howard sat on his bed, a withered look on his face as he gazed on his sleeping brother. The palms of his hand sweated as fear and intention gripped him. This was it, if not for Henry then how would his mother have abandoned him and gone away? And he dared to be better than Howard. He dared to unt his better conditions in front of his older brother, the man who had raised him and helped feed and clothe him. Howard was filled with rage.

    He heard the light snoringing from Henry and sighed heavily. He went back to bed, scared of what he was about to do. He closed his eyes and dreamt of butchering his brother.

    .

    Days passed as his dreams and intentions recurred. It gued him to even look at his brother without thinking of the various ways he could do away with the pest that had invaded his life and taken absent from him everything that he knew. It was all Henry''s faultl, his mind kept telling him.

    One night he finally snapped. He gripped his brother by the throat and fiercely pressed down and ended his little life. The deep-seated fear of being found left his body when he went to the outhouse to get the metal tools and dismember him. He remembered the time he had stabbed the poor frog to death and realized that this this was much better.

    The monster inside him churned and reared its ugly head as he proceeded with the process His eyes glowed with delight as he tied the limbs in the sheet they had been sleeping on and took it out into the forests early next morning.

    His brother had run away. Everyone knew that he did.

    Maybe he went back to their abusive father or farm life didn''t suit him.

    No one questioned his absence. They had seen too many peoplee and go.

    The madness in his brother''s eyes escaped these people.

    Until one day they were being questioned about his life.

    The cops said he killed people. They couldn''t understand how such a strange yet good boy could do something of the sort. And that was the story of Howard Hunt.

 Chapter 56: Hostile

    Chapter 56: Hostile

    My job as Sebastian''s assistant consisted of me sitting in his ss, recording what he said and making sure that all the students submitted their work on time. I had to say, Sebastian loved giving his students small projects and fieldworks that they needed to submit every other week. And he was efficient enough to check them and give them to me before ss for me to distribute. Soon, I was looking at faces I knew from passing by in the university but had never spoken to. The pay was exquisite too. Sebastian told me that the university gave him enough research funds so that he could livefortably, it didn''t hurt that he came from a rich family and invested in shares on a regr basis.

    On that particr day, I was sitting in the ss of the first years, helping them get oriented with Sebastian, who was teaching them for the first time. He demanded a high standard from his students and had prepared a worksheet of the works they needed toplete ahead of time.

    I stood in front of the ss, way before time and stared as the ss filled up. Most of the students who entered early were females who were full of giggles and whispers. I was sure that they had heard the rumors about Sebastian''s good looks and taken this ss to stare at him. They were not prepared for the torturous journey they would go through and the hard fight they would have to ovee to get good grades from this ss.

    I almost felt sorry for them.

    "Good morning, ss. I am Dr. Sebastian Butler''s assistant and will be joining you for your sses throughout the semester. If you have any questions regarding the course structure or ss-rted material, you can contact me through my email or phone number. Please make sure to take a copy of the sybus and works you are expected to submit this semester. I will be the one taking them." I looked around to see if there were any questions. The first time I had done it, I had myself been a bit embarrassed, but I hade to realize that my job as his assistant was important. That he needed someone who could monitor others and help himb through the trivial matters in life so that he could concentrate on his research and solve crimes.

    I saw one male student raise their hand.

    "Yes?" I asked, hoping for a good question.

    "What is your name?" I cringed.

    "Evie Lewis. I look forward to working with all of you." I could see his shadowing towards me. It was thest room on the corridor and I sensed him enter the ss before the others.

    The students stood up in unison, greeting Sebastian as he entered. I spotted a free chair at the back of the room and trotted towards it.

    "Evie," he called. I turned to look over my shoulders.

    He had a small smile on his face.

    "Did you distribute the sybus?" I shook my head. He nodded and went back to addressing the ss. I took careful notes of every word he said, the student beside me peered at myptop from time to time, copying from the running notes I was taking. I didn''t bother shooing the boy away. Instead, I angled the screen towards him.

    The boy muttered a low thank you and went back to copying.

    I nced at his face from time to time and looked at the definitely awestruck girls who had taken their seat at the front. I felt a wee bit irritated but kept it off my face.

    No use showing my annoyance and making Sebastian biased against some poor students who had mistakenly stumbled upon his ss.

    Sebastian was talking about how childhood abuse could affect the brain and lead to antisocial behaviour in kids. He was emphasizing on how gics had nothing to do with it, at least nothing of the sort had been scientifically proven. I took it as an important step towards the students in the ss going into their field of study without bias or prejudice against the people who they were judging. It was important not to jump to conclusions under any circumstances, especially when you were handling something as fragile as the human mind at the palm of your hand.

    They were the future generation who would decide how the public vieww enforcement and the government. Empowering them with the proper tools to help them distinguish between good and bad was something that Sebastian was slowly teaching them. He was slowly teaching me, as well.

    Just because I looked murderous didn''t mean that I would kill. Just because something bad had happened to me didn''t mean that I would inflict the same pain on others. Psychologically speaking, he had told me. Every person reacts differently to stimulus. I had grown stronger and groomed myself to be the best of my abilities. I was a force to be reckoned with, he had said, and the first time in forever, I started to believe that I was worth something more than I had imagined myself to be.

    The ss soon ended and I found myself taking the attendance and handing out information sheets to the students. I had to admit, I didn''t quite like the hostile looks they gave me, but I was sure I could take them on in a fight.

 Chapter 57: Glare

    Chapter 57: re

    Jameson had not graduated. He was still in ss, sitting with his peers when I entered the room. He didn''t notice me at first. He spoke to the girl next to him, curiously flirting and trying to help her with notes. I smirked as I got in, minutes before Sebastian would make his appearance.

    I stood at the front of the ss, preparing the slideshow that Sebastian was going to present that day when I heard a voice calling me.

    "Evie?" it said. I looked up calmly to see Jameson at the front of the ss, looking at me with his eyes bulging out of his socket. I couldn''t help but smile at his expression.

    "What are you doing here?" he asked, much to my amusement. I didn''t offer any replies and continued on with my work. It seemed that word had not gotten out about the female assistant Sebastian had acquired, or it was simply that he wouldn''t have guessed it would be me. I was not a teaching assistant so I didn''t require a degree in the subject to do all his menial work. It was curious how all these students knew more than me about the subject. It was frankly a bit humiliating that I wouldn''t know even half as much as them when it came to questions that Sebastian asked them, despite being his personally appointed assistant.

    "Did you transfer into our department? Or are you taking extra sses." For a man who was in criminal psychology ss, he was quite unobservant; no wonder Sebastian had let him go and searched for another assistant.

    "No," I said bluntly, stunning him. He looked at me again, with his mouth gaping.

    "Then what are you doing here?" he asked, a small smile on his face. As if he thought I was there for him.

    "Are you here to confess your undying love for me?" his voice was unpleasant to hear. I wanted to re but my professional side peeked out.

    "Please don''t speak inappropriately in ss," was all I said. He didn''t budge. There were whispers running throughout the room, people pointed and spoke in hushed tones as they referred to me. Some remained silent, curiously looking at the exchange. I remained calm, waiting for hiseback.

    "Aren''t you going to join me? I didn''t think that my words would somehow make you start following me around. I will have you know that following someone around is a crime in all states, but I will allow you to do so." Annoying. That was what he was.

    "I''m sorry, I dislike people who are ipetent. And you strike me as the type." Snickers followed, but I didn''t pay much attention. Jameson himself chuckled at my words, baffling me. He still seemed to hold that smirk on his face, triumphant that I had spoken further. Maybe he liked being humiliated.

    I heard the shuffling of feet and instantly knew it was Sebastian who had entered the ss. I smiled a little as I turned to face him.

    "I prepared the slide-show," I told him softly so that the others couldn''t hear. He nodded and smiled back.

    "Did he bother you?" he asked suddenly. I realized that he had overheard the conversation and was making sure that I was okay. I was pleased and a little warmed in the cockles of my heart as I shook my head. I could feel curious gazes on me but I chose to ignore them.

    "I''ll sit at the back, okay?" I moved away from the front. Gazes followed me, their curiosity eating away at me. This was not new, it had happened previously. Introductory lectures about the ss structure always went simrly. I had learned to ignore them.

    "Good morning, ss. I am Sebastian Butler. As you know I demandplete respect in ss. If you demand untoward attention, I will make sure you get it in ss. I don''t think you require my attention." He red at Jameson, which stunned me. I was sitting at the back of the ss, wondering if I was supposed to transcribe these words of guilt. He would be reprimanded if some other faculty found out that he had threatened a student in front of the whole ss.

    Jameson''s head bowed, making him look like a naughty puppy who had been scolded by its master. I suppressed a giggle and went back to furiously typing on theptop.

    He began again.

    "This semester I will be teaching you the history of the interrogative method and how torture features in it. Not only will you be learning about the various historical stances on interrogation and trials, but you will also learn how modern methods stand in both ethicality and functionality." The ss began with Sebastian in his professional mode, far from the man who had threatened his student for harassing his assistant. I took diligent notes and made sure to attach somements in the parts I seemed to miss out on or had questions about and wanted him to borate.

    The ss flew by and I could see how hemanded the attention of the ss, a perfect spokesperson who knew how to demand the attention of the ss. It was fascinating to watch.

    "My assistant will hand out your homework and answer your questions about the structure of the course if you have any. I advise you to remain courteous with her." Another re at Jameson followed.

    I got out of the seat and moved towards the front of the ss. This time they seemed more enlightened and less curious.

    "Hi, everyone. My name is Evie Marie Lewis. I am Dr. Butler''s assistant. I hope we can get along and carry out the sses in peace." I bowed. Silence followed. I looked out to see stunned expressions as if the news was not what they expected. It was not amusing any longer. It was simply irritating.

 Chapter 58: Sugar

    Chapter 58: Sugar

    Sebastian made his way out of the ss, standing outside as he waited for me. I handed out the documents and list of readings for this batch and dismissed the ss when the bell rang. I was about to move out of the way when I heard someone approaching me.

    "Evie," Jameson said. I stopped and turned back, hoping he would not bother me further. It was unbing of me to talk impolitely to students, and I wanted nothing to do with him. He had been trying to show off and be popr among his peers,pensating for not graduating with his ss. I understood, but it also showed how desperately he wished for the approval of the people around him and how little he prided himself for being a good student.

    I huffed and turned back to walk out. This time he didn''t follow me.

    Sebastian was waiting for me outside the room, leaning on the wall of the ssroom and looking at his watch. With his superior looks, it was given that students turned to look at him and whisper. It would have been embarrassing for me to walk with him if I had been a less confident person, but I felt no shame as I walked up to him and softly spoke.

    "You''re attracting a lot of attention from the female poption, Mr. Butler." My voice was coated in sugar.

    "Are you jealous, Evie?" he asked, surprising me. I felt my temper rise at his words. Jealous? What was there to be jealous about? He was clearly popr with his sauve style and looks but I didn''t care for the students who seemed to have wanted to follow him out and gave me stink eyes.

    "I''m not as popr as you, though." Hemented. I scoffed inwardly, not wanting to appear unprofessional. But it was given, this conversation was nothing but unprofessional, but staying by each other''s side had made us view this as normal work behaviour.

    "I don''t know what you mean by popr," I retorted sourly. He was clearly trying to make a problem out of nothing.

    "I''m a leading criminal psychologist in the field and have excellent attention to details and facial expressions. Do you want to contest me by saying that you understand the human psyche more than me?" he proudly said. I rolled my eyes intending to talk back.

    "You forget that one can be biased at times. You are not above being human." That seemed to have struck a chord in him. His brows twitched in irritation as he opened his mouth to speak.

    "I don''t like that you are questioning my integrity. I know well how to analyze without having personal preferences."

    "And I am saying that you are human and can sometimes overestimate your integrity." It was a lie. I didn''t think the same, but for the sake of the argument, I was up for some fun. It was enjoyable watching him rile up over a simple argument. I hade to appreciate such banters as they created some much-needed space in our schedules. Sebastian was an extremely busy individual: with his research, sses, and cases piling up, he was always on his feet without much time for himself.

    "No," was his simple reply. I broke out into giggles as we walked towards the professor''smon room.

    "Does this mean you are not human?" I teased lightly.

    "Say what you will, but Jameson was watching you like you were something to eat. Tell me if he bothers you." His words soothed my irritation towards Jameson.

    "What will you do? Feed him to the serial killers?" He levelled me with a re of his, but I could tell that it was yful.

    "I don''t like mixing business with pleasure," the smugness in his voice startled me.

    "Pleasure? Pray tell what pleasure you are speaking of in this case."

    "I am what some people call a non-criminal highly functioning sociopath. I don''t mix that pleasure. What did you think?"

    "Not a single thing," I told him, not giving him the pleasure of making a joke out of it. "You are far from a sociopath. Don''t worry. You aren''t going to kill anyone in this lifetime, at least." He chuckled.

    "I''m d you know that. I believe at least one person has that faith in me."

    "Why? Are there people who think you are capable of murder?" I asked, curious.

    "Sure, my own mother thinks that she will someday see me in the news," he shrugged. I eyed him with trepidation. With his personality, it was quite possible to take him as a potential killer. He was indeed capable of getting into the minds of the criminal. That was a bog that most people feared, yet he leapt into it with ease and came out unscathed.

    "And do you think you are capable of it?"

    "No. The key to being sessful in this field is not to be self-righteous but understand that the violent thoughts you are having or experiencing are not your own but a projection of what you are solving." His words made sense, but I could feel my throat constrict.

    "I wish I could say the same," I mumbled under my breath, knowing he wouldn''t be able to hear. But hear, he did.

    "Evie, you are not a psychopath." I lurched forward, stunned at his sudden promation.

    "I know I am not," I said in a small voice. I didn''t know who I was trying to convince, him or myself.

    "I am d you know that." And the conversation could have ended there, but we were already in themon room, with spective eyes on us.

 Chapter 59: Fallacy

    Chapter 59: Facy

    It was much of a controversy, I was not a student or a research assistant at the university, but I had taken up the job as his assistant on a personal contract. While the authorities were okay with it, some of the professors felt that I had been unfairly appointed.

    "I am, indeed, popr," I said with a small smile as I saw the faculty having lunch turn to look in our direction.

    "They''re just jealous that I get to bring someone who is more intelligent than them," he said suddenly. I stared at him dumbfounded, wondering where he got his confidence from.

    "They got their degrees from prestigious colleges and are leading academics," I stated sourly, wanting to point out the facy of his thoughts.

    "You got your degrees from a prestigious university, as well. Our education system creates simr minded bots that don''t like when other, more radical peoplee into the picture. It''s something like being sour because you didn''t get the premium pick. I deserve the praise," he nodded all-knowingly. "I discovered your talent and I have long known that you were meant to do great things. You just learned some other skills in turn, which willter help you in cases."

    "Why does it sound like you are grooming me to be the next Sherlock Holmes?" I shifted my eyes to look at the other faculty members who were enjoying their break time with some tea and snacks.

    "Grooming is an uncouth word to use. More like I am preparing you to be my protg." Maybe I was his protg, but with such an ambiguous background, what good would being any good at analyzing do?

    "You sound like an old man, Mr. Butler." And he did. He sounded like he was on his deathbed, uttering hisst wishes on his followers, of which I knew there were many, if the flock of students in the ss were any proof.

    "I am wise for my age" he began to say when he was interrupted midsentence.

    "Miss Lewis, what a wonderful surprise," I heard the familiar voice. I turned to see Dr. Singh standing with his hands nted behind his back. He had a huge smile on his face and his eyes gleamed with delight.

    "Dr. Singh," I replied formally but he was having none of it.

    "Call me Harshit. We spent too much time together for you to be so distant!" he eximed. I snickered at his joy and the rtively sour expression on Sebastian''s face.

    "You sound lecherous. Aren''t you too old to be making such inappropriate remarks?" Though the words were said in a friendly way, the words were sharp. I was stunned that Sebastian would be so bold at the face of his colleague. But I did know that they were pretty close, even their cabins were near each other. Other than Alec, Dr. Singh was probably one of the very few people who could stand being around Sebastian and not get irritated by his infuriating narcissism.

    "Is there an appropriate age for making inappropriate remarks?" The older man teased. But Sebastian was having none of it. Clearly, he looked like he was going to burst with jealousy.

    "I feel like you are degrading my assistant." He pushed his body in front of mine, hoping to hide me from Dr. Singh. It was hrious.

    "I''ve known her from before you." Dr. Singh reasoned.

    "I doubt that is true. I spent more cumtive time with her than you did, so I automatically win this challenge." Even though I couldn''t see his face, I was sure that he looked smug as he said those words.

    "Jealousy suits you, Sebastian. But I am here to invite Miss Lewis to my beginner''s lecture about serial killings. How far do you know about his line of work?" he turned to ask me.

    "I have been reading up on the various topics, but I would love to take your sses if it doesn''t sh with any of Mr. Butler''s." He seemed delighted at the prospect.

    "Let''s match our schedules, then." After a few moments, the two got into a discussion about a recent suspicious series of murders in the city and wondered if one of them would be called. I didn''t pay much attention at first, but they seemed engrossed in their conversation. I listened in and grew more excited as they went about their analysis. Public shows and disappearing acts. I couldn''t catch the specifics, but I knew enough about Sebastian to know that he was interested in taking it up.

    "Want to go to a magic show?" he asked, once we were away from Dr. Singh.

    "A magic show?" I asked, surprisecing my voice. "Is this about the new case?"

    "I want to figure out how they are doing this. It must be a trick of the eye." He seemed convinced and I didn''t want to refute him.

    "Book a show in a couple of days. I want to learn the ropes." I nodded, immediately taking out my cell phone to see what shows were on. Unsurprisingly were quite a few happening in the city at the moment.

    "There''s one today. Do you want to go?" I asked in a light voice.

    "I have to check some papers today. Is no other day convenient?" I shook my head.

    "The others are a bit farther away. Today seems like the best time to go."

    "Then book the ticket," he ordered me. "I''ll check the paperster tonight." He huffed.

    I gave him a small grin and booked the show.

    "Can you give me a brief on the case?" I asked him once we were out of the university.

    "There have been two simr cases recently but they haven''t been linked yet. I think it will be more prominent once I get more information on it. Not sure if they are looking for a criminal psychologist for the case, but if they do link the cases, there is a high chance that they will seek a couple of us out to get a better picture of how things are going to be."

    "The show is in a couple of hours, so we should get ready," I told him when we got inside the car.

    "Remember to dress well, today. I don''t want you to dress like my assistant when I am out in the street." I usually tended to wear muted colors and a pair of sses that had no use on me. I wanted to present a more mature look, but Sebastian had been against it since the very beginning. I couldn''t understand why it bothered him so much, but he wanted me to dress up as I usually did before I became his assistant. He believed my clothing fashionable. While I was ttered, my clothes were not exactly professional.

    ''I need an assistant who works well'' he hadmented. ''I don''t need you to look like a librarian.'' I had been slightly offended but knew that he always spoke his mind.

    "Yes, yes. I will dress properly," I grumbled. He gave me a small grin and went back to concentrating on his driving.

 Chapter 60: Show

    Chapter 60: Show

    I stood in front of the mirror, wondering what I should wear. There was a flutter of butterflies in my stomach as I donned on a lovely skirt and blouse. The shoes werefortable but still managed to look good paired with my outfit. Feeling satisfied with my appearance, I went out of the apartment with a bright expression.

    Mr. Butler was ready to leave when I arrived at his door. After petting the sweet little cat, I ushered him to follow me. We took the car, and because of the traffic jams on the street,we were almostte for the show.

    There was a crush of people at the event, and no one seemed to want to give way to others. We parked away from the event and walked the remaining way, taking quick steps to reach the front gate. There were couples all around us, and I shifted unwisely away from Sebastian when we got to the front of the line.

    For some reason, couple tickets were half price. Wanting to save money, I booked that one and felt disastrous afterwards. This was probably the reason why there were so many couples at the ce. I nervously nced around to see if I knew anyone in particr. Standing in this line with Sebastian could cause problemster on.

    "Don''t get lost," he said suddenly as someone pushed from behind. I stumbled and found myself grabbing at his arm for support. He had a small smile on his face as he looked at me. He didn''t say anything as he reached over to offer his hand to me.

    I was surprised.

    "I''m sorry?" I asked, confused by what was happening.

    "Apology epted. You can use me." My mouth dried at his words.

    ''What do you mean, use you? Have you no idea what you are saying, Mr. Butler?''

    "I''m fine," I mumbled and lowered my head in embarrassment. The crowd was getting rowdy, and it was getting harder to stand properly. It was almost as if there were a concert.

    I pulled out my phone and searched for the person whose show we were watching. Instantly, I realized what the fuss was about. Everyone wanted to get in to see the performance of this world-famous illusionist and magician. He was acimed for making a train vanish into thin air and other Houdini-esque activities at that. This was one of his few performances this year, and people from other cities hade over for a chance to view it. No wonder, couples had flocked here rather than go out on conventional dates.

    I felt something hot press up against the side of my hands and looked at him in shock.

    "I don''t want to lose you," he said firmly. His hand slid into mine and sped on. I stared, wide-eyed at his serious face and wondered what he was doing.

    He had done this before, but then I had felt warmth at his presence, a feeling of safety that I wouldn''t be able to do anything bad while he was around me. Now, it flustered me. The feeling was foreign; it made my heart thud against my chest.

    "Okay," I whispered. He leaned in closer, his ears closer to my lips as he asked me to repeat. "Okay," I breathed, hoping he had heard me this time.

    His hand grasped mine tighter.

    We made our way through the crowd, and he held onto me until we were at our seat. When we sat down, he let go and took out a small notebook from his pocket.

    "You shouldn''t hold my hand like that," I scolded gently, my heart still at my mouth. "People misunderstand."

    He quirked his brow at me as he answered cheekily. "Who do you think will misunderstand? No one here knows us."

    "I''m your assistant." He really had no EQ  no idea what his actions would mean to others.

    "If you are worried about your future boyfriend finding out that you held my hand, I assure you none of these strangers or I will let them find out."

    There was a moment of silence. I didn''t know what came over me, but I said it nheless. "I won''t be lying to my future boyfriend, Mr. Butler. Rtionships need understanding and honesty." There was no point in telling him those words. He just turned to look at me.

    "It''s just holding hands, you''re a child who needs to be taken care of," he teased. The pang in my chest grew.

    "Child?" From which angle did I look like a child?

    "Pet?" he said suddenly. "I like you just as much as Sheng Sheng."

    ''I like you''I cursed myself for letting this man get under my skin.

    "Concentrate on the show," I growled as I turned away. I leaned away from him.

    "Do you want to sit on someone else''sp? Sit straight." I huffed as I readjusted. I turned to see a man my age smiling down at me. I apologized for the intrusion, and he very politely let the matter slide.

    Sebastian really was treating me like a child. Did he think he was brought me out to y?

    I sat in rtive silence as the buzz around me died down, and the lights dimmed.

    From the corner of the stage, a figure emerged and prepared for the show.

 Chapter 61: The Fire That You Light

    Chapter 61: The Fire That You Light

    Earle Desmond, world-renowned magician sh illusionist. He wore a mask, the point of which eluded me. This had been his new forte. For the past three or four shows, he had been wearing a mask.

    In an interview, he said that it added to the mystery. In my opinion, it probably helped him with some of the tricks he performed.

    "Do you think he is going to produce a rabbit from his hat?" Sebastian leaned in and whispered in my ear. I stifled augh and turned to him with a curious look.

    "Have you ever watched a magic show?" I asked, knowing the answer. It would be unlikely that he would willingly go to watch one. This was a rare situation and I knew he hade because it piqued his interest. He wanted to get a glimpse into the inner world of the magician so that he could profile the guy.

    I didn''t know how it would help him, but whatever he wanted to do was fine by me.

    "I did get invited to a birthday party when I was in elementary school and they had a magician. That''s how I know about the rabbit in the hat trick." He nodded sagely.

    "Magicians have long abandoned those tricks. Now, it is more about psychologically pressuring your audience into believing they are a god and doing dangerous acts."

    "You must be bored enough to watch these things," hemented off-handedly. On the stage, Earle was speaking to the audience, asking them questions and predicting the answers.

    "That''s true. I watch a lot of shows and youtube in my spare time." Especially at night when sleep didn''te to me. I would spend hours upon hours looking at inconsequential content, taking in information I would probably never use. I had a phase where I would watch people choose wedding dresses and marry at first sight. It wasn''t my proudest moment, but so long as someone could steal my dreams from me, I would have to settle for such things.

    "Exin this trick to me, then," he asked. He could probably figure it out for himself, but I could see that he was mildly bored and wanted me to talk to him so that he could get through it. Knowing him, he could have just walked out without another word. I didn''t know what was holding me back.

    The case? Could be. But there seemed to be something else.

    My neighbor nudged me once. I turned to him, bewildered before I recognized the expression in his eyes. Irritation.

    "Can your boyfriend and you keep it down? We bought these tickets weeks in advance." Weeks.

    "I''m sorry," I apologized quickly and turned back. My brows scrunched.

    "Do you see anything new in this guy?" Sebastian said suddenly. I looked at the stage and scrunched my brow.

    "I''ve never seen this before, to be honest. But from my experience, this trick takes quite a bit of ruthlessness to do. They probably had to hurt some animals." This was what pissed me off the most. While a lot of magicians spoke against animal cruelty, some acted like they were animal right''s activists but used cruel methods.

    "I can see that. That''s why I asked. I don''t quite like this man. He has a cocky air about him and he views his audience as a nuisance simply a source of attention and pedestal to shoot to fame, nothing more." His analysis threw me off a little.

    "I admit he is cocky, but wanting to shoot to fame should be wrong." I looked at him and frowned. "He is incredibly famous. One of the top 5 magicians in the world, actually." Sebastian scoffed.

    "He seems subpar to be honest." I shrugged.

    "I''m not a connoisseur, so I wouldn''t know." The tricks remained controlled.

    "I present to you, the final act of the evening!" the magician eximed.

    I sat straight and concentrated.

    A metal monstrosity appeared out of the side, wheeled in by two beautiful women. I rolled my eyes and tried not to think about the sexism in the industry.

    It was a metallic bull from what I could see, it was bronze. I found myself confused and fascinated at the same time. I had never seen a trick like this. The bull was pried open and the magician showed us the inside.

    "As you can see, there is nothing inside." He called on a member of the audience. "Ma''am,e, stand by me. I have an important task for you." His demeanor had changed. The cockiness was gone. It was somewhat reced by pure delight.

    From the corner of my eye, I could see Sebastian shifting to match my position.

    "Do you see how his bodynguage changedpletely?" he whispered. I nodded.

    "Why do you think that?" I asked.

    "This is probably the first time he is showing this trick and he is vying for validation from the audience. It is a mixture of joy and performativity. He wants the audience to mirror his delight, to tell him how fascinated they are how they are dying to know what wille next." I nodded.

    "It''s like revealing your thesis after you have found all the data to back it." I had felt that way quite a bit, and I could imagine it would be the same for anyone who had to write theses.

    "Exactly."

    "You will simply have to screw the bull shut and then light it on fire." The audience member, a teenage girl, looked at him in confusion but nodded nheless. "As you see, this pedestal is used for an artificial bonfire." He then turned to address therger audience. "Tonight, I will make the impossible happen. Pinhio once wanted to turn into a real boy tonight, this bronze bull will take a life of its own."

    I squinted. He was going to make a real bull appear in front of such a big crowd without any covers?

    "I will forge it with the fire that you light," he said, pointing straight at the girl.

 Chapter 62: Submerged in Water

    Chapter 62: Submerged in Water

    He had made a train disappear, I supposed that a bull should be a piece of cake after that. I watched curiously as the girl took a screwdriver and shut the bull closed. Subsequently, an assistant handed her a torch. The girl hesitantly bent over and touched the torch to the surface of the furnace the bull was on.

    "Thank you for your service," Earle Desmond said. "You can go back to your seat and enjoy the rest of the show."

    The girl slowly stepped away, looking back a couple of times over her shoulder in confusion before finally stepping away. Sebastian and I were seated towards the back, but I could see that the girl was ufortable.

    Maybe what Sebastian had said was right. While I knew that he couldn''te to a solid conclusion until he spoke to the magician one on one, he was good at reading people at a distance it was his job.

    It took a couple of minutes until the bull started to grow hotter. A faint noise came from the thing. I scrunched my brow and leaned closer to Sebastian.

    "Did you hear that?" I asked. He nodded, looking equally confused.

    "There wasn''t anything inside the bull. Could it be water inside?" It could be a situation like the pressure cooker, but then the sound would have toe out of somewhere. The mechanism could be the same. Fire, sealed shut metal and a small opening through which the pressure was released. But where was it?

    "Do you think it is the mouth?" Sebastian contemted.

    "It is a cool trick, but I don''t see the fascination with it." But then the tone changed. The bronze was turning an odd shade,pletely heated and the bellows of the bull started to permeate through the air.

    The stage was littered with microphones, so the sound was louder than anticipated. It was deafening. At first, there was confusion and then some hesitant ps.

    There was no grand gesture, no bull turning into a live one or any of the show-stopping tricks that Earle usually used. I quickly took out my phone and put in his name.

    "There can''t be enough water to make that much pressure in that massive bull..." I trailed off. There was something at the back of my mind that I just couldn''t ce my finger on. A few more minutes and smoke started to re out of the nostrils of the bull, it rocked back and forth with vigor.

    It was a faint memory of something I had read in the past.

    The crowd was now going wild. They seemed to think it would be aplete transformation, and if I wasn''t so intent on recalling the memory, I might have thought the same.

    Usually, I remembered relevant material, but for some reason, this had slipped out of my mind. Had I seen this trick being performed somewhere?

    The bull.

    The bull.

    The bull.

    Where had I seen a bronze bull?

    "You''re right. If it isn''t water, how is he doing it?"

    On the stage, the magician wasughing, talking about his life, and the things he had done. He was talking about the great changes he was going to make and it just didn''t make sense to me.

    What is going on?

    "There''s someone inside the bull," I found myself saying. I jerked up to my feet and tried to stumble over the people.

    "Evie?" I could hear Sebastian. I turned to him, trying to pass by a particrly irritated woman. I was in no mood to apologize to all these people.

    "There''s someone inside that bull!" His face scrunched, and as I was about to turn, I saw the realization dawn on him.

    There was a bubble of misced warmth in my heart. I didn''t wonder much about it, but his faith in my spection was somewhat moving.

    Not the time to think about it, Evie.

    The whispers grew. Word caught on like wildfire, and before I knew it, I heard the emergency bell go on. As my eyes zoomed in on the magician on the stage, I saw him backing away.

    "Don''t let him go," I screamed to no one in particr. I received odd looks as I went, but the panic had set in. All the procedures taught to these people in school went out the window. There were too many people rushing towards the isle at the same time, stumbling over one another.

    I felt my breath catch. Doom washed over me as I was engulfed by the herd of people trying to escape. Those sitting ahead of me had blocked me offpletely.

    From far away, amidst the cacophony and the sounds of panicking people, I heard his voice. It was faint, but my name was clear on his lips. I tried to peak over the crowd, trying to see where the man was. The bull still zed, the bellows grew horrifying.

    As pushes came to shove, I felt the horror take over.

    I covered my face with my hands as best as I could. I was considerably shorter than most of the men that surrounded me. The women seemed unbothered and only wished to push their way past, as well. The heat of their bodies and the restrictions ced on me took over.

    In a nket of haze, I heard the voices in my head resurface.

    The heat was blistering. I couldn''t feel a thing except for the need to breathe and the flesh on my body burning. As I opened my eyes and pushed my hand out, I could see the blisters on my skin forming, almost melting off my bones.

    I choked and gasped, trying to escape. This was this what hell felt like?

    A scream slipped out of my lips. But who would listen? No one could listen.

    Help me.

    Sebastian?

    Mr. Butler?

    "Evie..." I heard.

    Submerged in the water that was my consciousness, the voice seemed to be over the surface, searching for me, panic evident. I wanted to reach out, but I didn''t know how. There was no space. No space at all. Where would I go?

    Sebastian?

    "Evie?" Closer still.

    Evie, concentrate. You are not trapped. There are people simply surrounding you. Calm down. Breathe.

    I wrapped my arm around myself, each hand touching the opposite shoulder and tried to follow the rhythm.

    Tap. Tap. Tap.

    It''s okay.

    It''s okay, Evie.

 Chapter 63: Perfectly Normal

    Chapter 63: Perfectly Normal

    You are safe.

    Just inconvenienced, but safe.

    "Evie?" So close. "I found you." The water seemed to thin, his voice grew clearer. I felt a cool sensation on the back of my palm. It was the cold fabric of my jacket covering my shoulders and back. I shuddered.

    There was a strange sense of security. The ustrophobia was there but my mind was split between the two worlds, fighting for dominance in their own dark ways. In one, I was the one trapped in that zing pit. In the other, I was constrained and tight down to the floor, my back, my head and my body exposed to anyone and everyone to wanted to harm me. The prickle of someone watching me overcame me. No, it was not the feeling I had when Sebastian looked at me, or just someone looked in the passing. It was a prating gaze of malice.

    I had felt it for years, in my darkened room as I tried to sleep.

    Othersughed it off, making memes about the proverbial demon lurking in the dark. But the demon was always there. Always following me. I was conscious of it.

    He wanted me. He wanted me dead. And he would soon have me.

    But that jacket? It seemed to shield me from the weapons that the demon would use to destroy me.

    I don''t know how long it took me to calm, but I knew Sebastian was standing at a distance, not wishing to interrupt me.

    I sighed in relief as I turned to him. The EMTs were there, as were the police. The bull was open in front and the fire put out. A gurney was taking the person inside out of the building. I followed their pace and sighed. The auditorium was engulfed in silence.

    No one spoke.

    I could hear the clicks of the camera and the scribbles of pen on paper.

    Sebastian didn''t ask. I didn''t answer. His eyes held no curiosity, just a deep understanding for which I was thankful.

    I must have looked crazy. For him toe out of his usual personality and stand amongst all those people and help was mind boggling. He wasn''t one to help in such a public disy. He could have very well abandoned me and pretended that he didn''t know me, but he had done it nheless.

    I stood up, my legs slightly shaky and I walked to him. I was conflicted. Should I thank him or just pretend like nothing happened? I knew he would bring it upter on, but now was not the time.

    "Who called emergency services?" Sebastian pointed at himself.

    "I called them when you were moving towards the stage." Nice way to put it. He wasn''t sarcastic or alluding to what just happened.

    "And how long has it been?"

    "They arrived within seven minutes, actually. I''m impressed that they cleared everyone out and controlled the situation so well." I nodded.

    "Any progress?" I asked. I needed a download on what happened.

    "They pried the bull open and got the person out. The mirror was almost melted and the person inside has third degree burns all over the body. He or she is alive, though. Identity unknown, but we will soon find out."

    "And Earle Desmond?" Sebastian scrunched up his brow. "The magician," I told him.

    "I don''t think that was Earle Desmond on the stage, at all. He wouldn''t be jeopardizing his position in society to make a spectacle out of killing someone. If I had to bet, the victim was him." He paused and looked at me curiously. "And to answer your actual question, the person on stage had a mask on. He might have slipped out before the police arrived or he could still be outside."

    "What do you mean they could be still outside?"

    "The police locked all gates and didn''t let anyone out even though there was a fire rm that rang." There was a weird look in his eyes. Yes, there was something extremely suspicious about the whole thing.

    "CCTV footage?" Sebastian shook his head. "What the fuck," I found myself cursing.

    "Oh my, I don''t think I have ever heard you curse, Evie." He did look slightly surprised, but not as taken aback as others who I had sworn in front of.

    I would usually swear after an episode or if I was beyond frustrated and the stress would lead me to get an episode. One could say it was a method of letting off the pressure.

    Studies in linguistics showed that using words that are considered ''taboo'' can often make the person saying them feel a rush of joy. Not unlike a crime,nguage could also exhibit such things in people. It was perfectly normal, so I didn''t like to think much about it.

    I shrugged. I could see a maning towards us. From the way he held himself and the uniformed police officers following him, I knew that he was the lead detective of the case.

    "Simon Nash," Sebastian leaned in and told me quickly as the man came to a halt in front of us.

    "Mr. Butler, what brings you here?" I looked between the two of them, not shocked by their acquaintance. Sebastian had been in the industry for a while and he worked a lot of high profile cases.

    "Evie, meet Detective Simon Nash. He is one of the leading members of the criminal behavioral studies department in the city bureau. He recently took on the roll on the departmental head. He has worked some very high profile cases in the past and is an excellent detective." In short, this meant that I was supposed to keep myself in the good books of this man and try to get as much information and knowledge out of him as possible.

    Sebastian was not one who worked on connections within the system, but if he was implying that I should talk to Simon Nash more, I would be doing it. I could learn a lot from this man, and I was never one to shy away from putting effort into gaining more knowledge.

    "Ah, you''re his assistant, I assume?" I nodded. "Well, nice to meet you. I would like to talk to the two of you as per the procedure. We are interviewing every member of the audience to gauge what happened."

 Chapter 64: Stimulate Criminals

    Chapter 64: Stimte Criminals

    "Don''t worry about it. We''ll follow procedure," Sebastianmented lightly. I found myself nodding along, but my curiosity was killing me. The detective seemed to notice immediately and turned to me with a smile.

    "Do you want to ask me something?" he asked, his demeanor friendly and open.

    "I noticed a lot of CCTV cameras in the building. We haven''t caught anything on there?" Mr. Nash looked at me with a sly smile.

    "Now, taking a notice of cameras is usually a sign that you are a troublemaker, Evie. What is the exnation for that?" I found myself chuckling softly, trying to hide my difort. No, the man himself brought me no difort, it was the question.

    I wasn''t looking for trouble or imagining catching myself really. It had more to do with being safe. With the presence of a camera at every turn, the fear of being caught in the crime and the footage used as evidence was a deterrent for people who wanted tomit crimes. In lieu of that, noticing cameras was a defense mechanism, I was ensuring that the space I was entering was a little more secure than another.

    "I imagine you have figured out that this is a serial killer we have on our hands," Sebastian interjected when I didn''t reply to Detective Nash.

    "This is the third case. I hope this attempt didn''t seed, but things aren''t looking good. Thanks for tipping me off, though." Sebastian shrugged.

    "Keep me updated. Didn''t think I would see an attempted murder in front of my eyes the minute I tried to understand the tricks being used," he sighed. He nced at me once before moving his eyes back to the detective.

    "Well, you know what they say: either Sebastian Butler has a super radar for criminals, or he just attracts them unknowingly." Ah, so this was the reputation he had in the industry.

    "I can''t say I stimte criminals, I just happen to be at the right ce at the right time."

    Well, wasn''t that the truth. He was spiderman with his senses most of the time.

    "Okay, you guys just get a look at the scene and I will finish the interviews." Detective Nash made a face.

    "You''ll have to check footage from the building and make sure that everyone has a ticket." It''s not a full-proof n but it was a start.

    "I''ll probably need your help. This is going to be a huge case if you haven''t noticed already." I looked up and saw their faces. I didn''t ask any questions at the moment, knowing Sebastian would fill me inter on. No use being chatty in front of detectives all the time.

    A couple of hours went by, and I pulled out some of the assignments from my drive on my cell phone and started going through them.

    "What are you reading?" Sebastian asked curiously, peering over my arm. I looked at him dully and went back to reading.

    "Just looking through the thousand-word essays you asked the first-year students to write," I said ndly.

    We were sitting on the seats in the auditorium, just getting bored. Sebastian had mostly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep while I went through the papers.

    "You mean you are reading amateur papers about them hypothesizing about crimes without knowing that they actually exist?" he asked nonchntly.

    "You never told them they were actual cases, and in my opinion, they should be quite low profile. They don''t seem very difficult either." From the corner of my eyes, I saw him shift in his seat and turn to me.

    "You sound like you can solve them." I paused for a bit.

    "I don''t think I can solve them practically, but in theory, I can feel where their thoughts are wrong." it was hard to pinpoint what exactly it was that led to this feeling in me.

    "I think it''s your prior experience of trauma and the knowledge your father instilled in you mixing together. We call it gut feeling but it is usually a product of years of experience. Your experience is purely inculcated from your hypersensitive and anxious mind which can think of thousands of possibilities in one go. While your thought process isn''t as finessed as a detective would be, you are going in the right direction." He then also paused and gave me a good look.

    "What is it?" I asked curiously. He looked like he was hesitating to say something.

    "The police department uses excessive force and fear as a device whening to solving crimes. Your thought process is more fear and paranoia driven than a study of criminal psychology or proper procedure. While you are spot on most of the time, I would like it if you could move away from your instincts and base your hypotheses on knowledge."

    I thought for a moment. He was insinuating something and I had a hint about what it was.

    "Shouldn''t learning from you both in theory and practice help me in that? I know that my thoughts are mostly conjectures right now and your procedure requires empirical evidence and solid proof that can hold in court if not be used to persuade your peers. I think learning from you will help me a great deal."

    He sighed.

    "I don''t think your analytical skill is the problem here, Evie. I think..." he hesitated. "Your capture has left a mark on you and while in a wicked twist of fate, it helps you to be an asset to finding criminals, it is harmful for you."

    "What are you trying to say?" I had found that he was an eloquent man when it came to exining things to me. Sometimes, I coaxed him to exin further, use thenguage at his disposal tomunicate more efficiently. I didn''t know why he was so good to me, but if I could help him just a little bit tomunicate better with other people, he would do so much better than he was already doing.

 Chapter 65: Notion of Performativity

    Chapter 65: Notion of Performativity

    He was somewhat like Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory, just from a different sphere and a little more emotionally adequate but oftentimes, how hemunicated with people offended them. Yes, there were people who understood his quirks, but there were too many that didn''t.

    My follies were many, but couldn''t I just wish to help him get better. Maybe someday he wouldn''t need me to prowl behind him and help him.

    "I have broached the topic before. I need you to see a therapist, Evie. If you need help, you need to take it. I know your previous experience has been poor, but I have contacts that specialize in violent trauma. They can help you. I need you to function and live a healthy life before you try to solve crimes." His hand came over mine and he took it. He drew circles on my palm.

    "Where did you learn that?" He looked me in the eye with a smile.

    "We were taught at University. I know that you use the butterfly hug to alleviate symptoms and it is helpful, but if you don''t get to the crux of the problem and solve symptomatically, your progress will be slower if not stunted."

    "And what are the chances that I will be cured." Cured. How does onee back from what I had faced?

    "No, you will not be cured, Evie. I can''t guarantee you that. You will live with those memories, but you will see yourself in a healthier light." I knew exactly what he meant. Maybe he couldn''t articte everything because it was not part of his training, but he was making sense. He was trying his best to help me.

    "Thank you," I whispered. "Will you take me?" He looked surprised. His hands stiffened over mine for a second before he rxed.

    "You want me to go with you?" I shrugged.

    "I''ll probably need you to drive me back home for the first day. I don''t know how it will go, so..." He nodded.

    "I''m d you''ll have someone there."

    "Have you been to therapy?" He shook his head. "I was asked to take sessions in college when they realized that I was mildly different from my peers andcked the ''sympathy'' and sense of justice that others had. It was a cause for worry in the department. But I convinced them that I didn''t require therapy and they needed to separate their feelings from their jobs. That was the way they could be more efficient."

    Always so superior to others. I chuckled. Of course, what else could I expect from him?

    "What do they think of you now?" He thought for a minute.

    "None of my ssmates really made it anywhere apart from Simon Nash, who was my senior from University. He is an excellent detective. While his job is more on the lines of interrogating and analyzing motive and threat levels, his job is as important as mine. I will make sure you interact with him a lot because he has some inside knowledge that I might not fully be able to provide to you." He nodded sagely.

    "You would entrust me to someone else?" I asked, surprised by it. He had denied the offers from Dr. Singh, but here he was letting someone else take the ce.

    "Detective Nash takes his work as an art form. Your mentalities and thoughts about life and philosophy are in tandem. I think shadowing him would propel your progress as a professional in this sphere."

    As I was about to speak, I heard the door to the auditorium open. Detective Nash entered with his hands in his pocket.

    "Butler, Evie," he greeted, taking the seat beside Sebastian.

    "Do you have any questions for us?" Sebastian asked, his eyes were still closed.

    Detective Smith chuckled and turned to look at me curiously.

    "I hear from witnesses that you were the one who realized that there was someone inside that thing," he said, pointing towards the stage. The bull had been carried out a while back, but I looked at the direction in which he was pointing nheless.

    "Yes. Dr. Butler and I were having a conversation about what could have caused the reaction and there were only two possible solutions to it." I thought about it. It had been mostly a gut instinct when one of the options were canceled.

    "What made you stumble out?" Detective Nash asked. Thest time I was questioned after finding a body, the tone of questioning had beenpletely different. I didn''t feel attacked in the slightest in this case. At least this guy was not treating me like a suspect because I happened to know something the others didn''t know.

    "The amount of water necessary to make steame out from the bull and increase the pressure enough to make it move wouldn''t be possible because he opened the machine and showed us nothing was inside." I stopped. "I think I remembered something from a book I once read."

    "What book?"

    "Something about torture methods in the ancient and medieval period," I said nonchntly. Detective Nash looked at me with a calm look but brewing underneath that expression was mild curiosity and horror. I wanted to ask him if he was falling back on stereotypes. Women are usually not interested in these things, or ''is there something wrong with her''? Unfortunately, I didn''t have such a rtionship with him.

    "Can you exin to me what the thing really is? I am sure a google search will help me, but yeah..."

    "If I remember correctly, this machine was built by a sculptor and artist in ancient Greece who wanted to please the tyrannical ruler. In those days, spectacles of torture were a form of entertainment." I really wanted to go into the whole notion of performativity of torture and why people in ancient times seemed to enjoy it as much as they like theatre, but that information wasn''t necessary. "While it wasn''t popr and liked by the king at first because of how cruel it was, it slowly came to be popr. The technology was advanced for its time, with a musical instrument put inside the bull so that the screams of the victim came out as the bellowing of a bull." Quite fascinating.

 Chapter 66: Package Deal

    Chapter 66: Package Deal

    "Oh," Detective Nash grimaced. "As per procedure, I will ask you some questions regarding why you came here and the like." I nodded.

    "When did you decide you woulde to the show?" There was no hesitation as I answered.

    "This morning. Mr. Butler wanted toe to a show to see how magicians perform. He asked me to get tickets, therefore I booked the one that seemed to have a reasonable price."

    "Okay. Where did you buy the tickets?"

    "I bought them secondhand from an online seller, bidding for two." He looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

    "Why didn''t you go the normal way? You could have bought the tickets from the official event website."

    "Today''s was the closest show and everything including this was sold out. I went on the other website and brought the ones I won." There was something in his eyes that I noted. A thought that passed through his eyes. I followed his movements carefully and realized that the questioning could go two ways. He was looking for a pattern in something and I had either broken it or reinforced it.

    I also knew that he wouldn''t tell me. At least right now.

    "If I showed you the CCTV, would you be able to discern who the suspect is?" I looked at him with worried eyes.

    "You looked through the footage and couldn''t find him?" I was sure that was the case. I thought for a bit. "It depends on what he was doing. I can tell you the feeling he gave off, but nothing concrete that can highlight him in a video, especially if he left with a lot of people during the chaos."

    "How would you define him?"

    "I saw him from very far, but his voice was muffled by the mask he was wearing. But I could discern that he had a low voice... " I paused. "Now that I think about it, it sounded like he was trying to change his voice so that no one could hear his real voice, but if I were to guess, it is very difficult to continue doing an ent for a very long time."

    "What do you mean?" Detective Nash asked.

    "Changing your voice for a long amount of time is quite difficult, but with the added help of the mask and the microphone taking away from his real voice, I would bet that it would be difficult to pinpoint him even if I spoke to him. But the ent is something that is distinct. It''s hard for someone to fake that, even if they are a trained actor. It takes years of continued practice to replicate an authentic ent, really."

    "Wouldn''t you say that our ent changes when we are around people or stay in a ce for a time?" I nodded.

    "That is the case, but when a person is excited and doing something taboo, they usually have stunted inhibitions when ites tonguage. Moreover,nguage or the words they use to frame sentences can say a lot about their position and their upbringing or personality."

    I could see Detective Nash look past me and stare at Sebastian.

    "Don''t look at me. She may be my assistant, but he got her Master''s degree innguage studies. She is the boss when ites to that. You can trust her." From his voice, I would hear inhibited pride. I wanted to scoff. Of course, he had to show off and pat himself on the back for getting someonepetent, but this was my talent, not his to write off.

    "You probably have a profiler who specializes innguage at your department, if you get your hands on a recording of the show."

    Detective Nash rubbed his chin and then looked at me with curiosity. "I''m pretty sure I will have to sign the papers and get Sebastian on the case, I would lose to have you on too." He smiled.

    Stunned, I looked at him. "Thank you," I found myself saying.

    "Of course, she is going to be there. Wee as a package deal."

    We followed the police officers to the station. I had been there too often, I realized. Most people had little to no contact with the police and there was a fear of them in society. Yes, it was unfortunate, but systemic violence does that to society.

    The process was fast and we were sitting in a room with other people in no time.

    Unsurprisingly, most of the officers were men and I was the only one in pretty clothes, a skirt, and a blouse and a nice bag to go with it.

    There were a lot of things that needed to be thought through.

    "I''ll be the one to give you the bad news. The victim passed away in the hospital. They went into cardiac arrest even though the doctors did everything in their power to save him." I looked around the room. The people surrounding me were professionals used to hearing about deaths. They were desensitized to it, or maybe they weren''t. But I wonder if they thought the same thing as me.

    When the victim is dead, you just know that there is less chance of understanding what exactly happened. You only find out one part of the story if you catch the criminal.

    The scene was set up and the officers were briefed.

    I turned to Sebastian and asked him under my breath, "Do you think we can see the CCTV footage and ask the people at the show to hand over any videos or photos they have?" Sebastian turned and looked at me and nodded.

    "You ask." My lips thinned. "You gotta speak up. When you are in this room, you need to ask questions. No question is stupid because it could give us a clue or direct us to another avenue and help solve the case. Ask your question and assert your thoughts. It is the only way you are going to grow. No other way to evolve." He shrugged. I sighed and pushed my hand up.

 Chapter 67: Substitute

    Chapter 67: Substitute

    Detective Nash turned to me andughed.

    "You''re not in a ss, Evie. You can ask me without raising your hand." I chuckled myself, not feeling abashed in the least.

    "Can we watch the CCTV footage from when the rm rang?" Detective Nash nodded. "I also wanted to understand if we can get any videos that the audience took."

    "Good points. We have asked all the audience members to hand over any photos and videos that they have taken during the show." He pointed at theptop. "I have the footage here. It might not be of any help right now, but we can look through it."

    The n of action was distributed and everybody got to work. As the video yed, I looked closely at everyone that the CCTV spotted. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everyone left through the same gate and together.

    No. I hadn''t seen him get off the stage but he couldn''t have left through the front gate. But then they showed footage from all the other exits.

    None of the people wore the same clothing. Because of the mask, it wasn''t possible to profile the face, not that it was evident either. That''s when I realized how easy it was to evade a camera. You change clothes and if there are no distinct signs to identify a person, they could get away with it.

    The sense of security I felt with having cameras around me slowly dissipated. It was a feeling of slow dread creeping into my bones and taking roots. What was it that protected me, really? I had to think about that.

    I clenched my fist and looked at the people surrounding me. All calm expressions, each one of them took notes and had intuitive expressions on their faces. What was I doing in this room? A fickle girl who couldn''t even decide what she wanted to do with her life? Am I qualified to sit here, even if I am in the process of learning?

    "Sebastian, what do you think his personality is like?" I snapped out of my reverie. I looked at Sebastian with desperation, trying to outrun my errant thoughts for a little while.

    "Male, between the age of 25 to 30. Good looking and confident of himself. Believes that he deserves more than what he has achieved in life and wants others to know who he is." He paused as he got up from his seat near the back of the room and traveled to the front.

    "While his motivation is unknown as of now, examining the method he has used, he has a lot of pent up anger against the victims. Our first job would be to figure that out. Subsequently, we will be able to paint a clearer image of who he is."

    I saw a young male police officer raise his hand. "Dr. Butler, you said victims as in plural. Is there a reason why?" Sebastian smiled and pushed his hand inside his pocket.

    "As you might have noticed there have been some grizzly murders urring across the country. The identity of the murderer is unknown, but he is using some torture methods to dispose his victims and in a very public setting. I have been keeping a close eye on the chain of events and am positive that we have a serial killer on our hands. These murders have been done by the same person." There was absolute silence for a minute and then vigorous scribbling on notepads.

    "What is the source?" Another one asked.

    "Newspaper articles that I havee across. My assistant has the documents, you can get the information on her and then get the forensic files. We will have an illustration of how the crimes are progressing and such."

    "I have also looked at these incidents and while the motivation remains unclear as Dr. Butler said, there are a few things we can be sure of. One, he is an organized killer and he prepares months in advance, scouting the victims, abducting them, building the devices that will kill the victim and then chooses a location where the exposure will be the highest. Secondly, he enjoys the process of killing and the showmanship of it. It is possible that he is more interested in torturing the victims to death than simply taking their lives, showing that it is vindictive in nature."

    Detective Nash was exining it further and with the two hypotheses working together, it formed a clearer image in my mind.

    "Substitutes," I said and some people turned to look at me.

    "You''re right, Evie. He is looking for substitutes. Something in these victims triggers him to kill. He is replicating his fantasy of torturing and killing a specific person but he is unable to carry it out so he is replicating the fantasy by killing others." Sebastian''s voice was strong. Seeing two people doing the same thing was somewhat different. I could see how their methods were widely apart.

    Detective Nash took the more bookish approach, analyzing the crime, whereas Sebastian was more person-centric. It was fascinating to see, knowing that their jobs were exactly the opposite. One was involved in catching the criminal while the other was a researcher who was trying to understand the mind of the criminal. Detective Nash was more inclined to give in to his passion than Sebastian, who was clinical about the whole thing. Such a dichotomy.

    "Get to work. We need information on the crimes. Thereafter, we can figure out who our suspect is." The meeting was dismissed and I found myself walking out of the police station behind Sebastian. As we entered his car, he slid into the driver''s seat and waited for me.

    "Evie, I want you to know that this case is going to be difficult. It''s not going to be short like before. The facets and possibilities are great and we have no evidence on who it can be."

    "So, you mean it is going to be a long haul?" I asked. He nodded.

    "This killer is organized. Seeing that he evaded the cameras in the building, it will be difficult to find his traces even if he stalked his victims. Therefore, we will have to make sure to find alternate routes to get to him."

 Chapter 68: The Best For Me

    Chapter 68: The Best For Me

    "I understand." We drove in silence and I found him following me to my apartment. I looked at him suspiciously.

    "Why are you following me?" I asked. He shrugged and held the door open for me after I had keyed in the password.

    He looked around the apartment and then pulled out his phone. "I''m setting up an appointment with the psychiatrist immediately. I think he will assign you to a therapist shortly. It shouldn''t take more than a day."

    "Doesn''t it take weeks to get an appointment?" I was surprised. He looked at me with a strange expression. "What? Did I say something wrong?" He shook his head.

    "I have contacts. It''s an emergency, so I can get you a slot." I nodded. I entered the kitchen and prepared some food for me. From the living room, I could hear the hum of his voice as he spoke.

    After half an hour, he entered the kitchen, his footsteps impatient.

    "What are you doing?" he asked. He was peering over my shoulder and looking at the pots and pans on the stove.

    "Cooking."

    "Inviting me over for supper?" His voice had a teasing lull. I rolled my eyes.

    "It''s not like you will cook your food after you go back. Now that you are here, I might as well feed you." It felt like I had adopted a child, sometimes. He quietly left the room and when I surfaced from the kitchen, I saw him patiently sitting in the living room, waiting for me to bring him food.

    I pushed the te in front of him and waited as he dug in. Only after that did I put the fork in my mouth. It was a boon that he didn''t eat non-vegetarian food or else Iwould have to kick him out of the house every time he wanted to eat over.

    I remembered suddenly the papers that I needed to read through and went to my bedroom to bring myptop. cing it on myp, I ate my food and read meticulously.

    "Focus on one thing at a time," I heard him say suddenly. He had been concentrating on his food the whole time and only seemed to notice what I was doing. I looked at him with confusion. "I know it is hard for you to concentrate on one thing and there are things running in your mind all the time, but you need to finish one task before you anxiously go on to do the next. Right now, your focus should be on sustenance. You need to eat your food and chew it properly."

    It didn''t make sense. He must have gauged the same so he ced his fork on the te and gave me a stern look.

    "You are eating with me. Why don''t we engage in a fruitful conversation." I almost coughed. Did the recluse want to talk to me? What happened to not partaking in social niceties?

    "What would you like to talk about?" I asked, humoring him nheless.

    "What are your ns for tomorrow?" he asked without blinking. I stared at him for a second, taken aback.

    "I''ll workout in the morning, then dress up for university and apany you to sses and take notes. After that, I wille home, freshen up, cook dinner, and eat while I enjoy a book." That was her daily routine.

    "Oh, that sounds nice." Yes, my life is somewhat boring, what can I say? I could sigh, but this was how every adult was living their life. "Shouldn''t you ask me what I will be doing?" You just had to tell me what you were going to do. No one was stopping you, Mr. Butler.

    "Okay, what will you do tomorrow?" He smiled victoriously.

    "I''ll wake up snuggled against my cat. Eat breakfast with her and then I will take you out." What?

    "I''m sorry?" I said dumbly.

    "Don''t be. I am not sacrificing a lot of time for you. We don''t have any sses until 2 in the afternoon tomorrow, so I will be free to take you for your doctor''s appointment. You don''t have to thank me." He waved it off. I sighed, feeling helpless. Why had I suddenly thought he was telling me that we were going out on a date? What was wrong with me?

    ''He is too weird,'' I told myself and let it slide.

    "Have you informed the university that you will head inter? And why didn''t you just tell me when I came out? You didn''t have to pretend like you wanted to talk to me." I could feel augh bubbling at my throat, but I kept it at bay, knowing he could be mildly offended.

    "You always tell me that I need to learn how to be social. What better way than to start with you? I also wanted you to know that I was taking time out for you." I nodded. The dichotomy of his character was immense. He was this deeply understanding individual who could process what was happening to her andfort her in a strange way but he was also this proud personality that needed to remind everyone that he was a boon to humanity.

    "What''s their name?" I asked, changing the topicpletely before he went down the dark hole of self-appreciation.

    "His name is Philip Knight, one of the best in the country for trauma and violent crime-rted mental health issues. I think he will be a great fit for you. If I am not wrong, thest therapist you went to was a child specialist and unequipped to handle the severity andplexity of your condition. Dr. Knight has a record of forty years of treating retired army men who fought wars and people with violent experiences." I looked at him for a second, wanting to do something. It was a strange feeling, almost an urgency to say or do something that I couldn''t understand.

    "You really got the best for me." He shrugged. He went back to eating, but sometimes he would look up at me to check if I was eating or doing something else. I found myselfughing through the whole ordeal. It was the first time I ate without doing something else at the same time.

 Chapter 69: Gripped With Paranoia

    Chapter 69: Gripped With Paranoia

    "You may head in," the receptionist said, looking at me. I blinked, looking at Sebastian for approval.

    "Head in," he urged. He was flipping through a magazine about mass anxiety levels increasing or something. I shrugged and went in, clutching the file I had received from myst therapist.

    When I entered, I was stunned to see the room. It looked like a little hall and the pictures hanging on the wall showed that this man took sses for younger children here. But Philip Knight was actually sitting with his back to the wall alongside the door. I had to turn to my left to see the man scrolling through his phone.

    "Dr Knight?" I asked tentatively.

    The man looked up and I finally got a full view of him. He was clothed in a crisp white shirt and blue formal pants. The exciting thing about him was that he had a humongous belly and wide sparkling eyes that reminded me of Santa use.

    "Evie, I presume?" he said, sounding amused. "I''ve spoken to Sebastian about you. It''s a pleasure to finally meet you, really." The greeting was warm but I sensed the underlying meaning.

    "That is to say that he has spoken about me. What''s wrong with me?" I asked, thinking that he will answer me.

    "Ie into this room after washing my hands," he proimed, stunning me. "I mean... I don''t trust what people tell me. I''ll have you tell me everything. Sebastian doesn''t know what he is talking about anyway!" he scoffed.

    I found myselfughing, the noise traveling across the room. I had to bite back the effect before I could speak. "Don''t let him hear that. He''ll probably throw a tantrum," she teased.

    "Yes, I know. The child never grew up." He rolled his eye. "Did he tell you how much of a brat he was when he was younger?"

    "He was a patient of yours?" My eyes widened and Dr Knight had to stop himself from saying more. "Don''t worry. I''m his assistant. He won''t mind me knowing the details of his life, narcissistic as he is."

    "Well, not really a patient. His parents brought him in thinking that he had a learning disability, turned out they were just being overprotective." He paused. "I had to talk his parents out of therapy or going to someone else because the boy was reading some very grownup books from a young age. He was just bored and thought his parents weren''t intelligent enough to indulge."

    "Sounds like him. But why are you sitting between me and the door?" I just had to ask. The curiosity was eating me. I knew that suspects were usually treated this way but patients too?

    "Oh, I know what you are thinking. I''m not trapping you here. You can see the door clearly so if you n on escaping, you have an option. I won''t be stopping you and you can leave without exining anything to me."

    "You seem to know exactly how I feel. I did search for all potential escape routes when I came in," I chuckled and then I stopped. "You''re psychoanalyzing me right now, aren''t you?" I squinted at him to get a better read.

    "I''m not doing anything. I''m just making conversation so that I get to know you better." He had a pleasing smile that calmed me.

    "I suppose you have your wiley ways of getting my story and problems out without having to hear everything from me." I snuck a look at him and sure enough, he was smiling.

    "You''re perceptive. So, tell me. What do you want my help with?" in and simple. Straight to the point.

    "I believe I have unresolved trauma rted to my capture seven years ago. I get very little sleep, my diet is a mess and I am constantly gripped with paranoia."

    "I''m d you are so easy about your symptoms. Are you making small of them?" he asked in a timid manner. How very uncanny.

    "Not really. I realize that these are bad for me in the long run, but I also see the benefits they have." I had to think about it for a moment. "Like, theck of sleep. I find it easier to concentrate when I get less sleep."

    Dr Knight frowned. "I see. But why do you find it hard to sleep?"

    "It is two-pronged. Firstly, I feel like someone is always watching me. Like they are going to jump out of the shadows at any time. And if I do fall asleep, I have terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis. I often find myself unable to wake up from my dreams. I can sleep up to twenty-four hours at a time if that happens."

    "And, do you have hallucinations?"

    I found myself silent. I didn''t know how to break it to him. "On my first case with Sebastian, he made mey down on something and I had the wildest episode. It''s not often I hallucinate or feel that level of pressure, but I will feel the pain and sensations all over again."

    Actually, that whole sentence took me longer to say than expected.

    "And was one of these episodes the reason why you came to me?" He was the visage of empathy.

    "Actually, it was part of the reason. Sebastian persuaded me toe." I was quite ashamed to say this.

    "And why didn''t you think of this yourself? Did you not want toe? Maybe because you don''t need therapy?" His voice was free from judgment.

    "I know that I am in terrible need of therapy and rehabilitation. I''m not stupid enough to believe I am invincible. But... I have had very bad encounters with psychiatrists, unfortunately."

    "Unfortunate encounters? I''m not sure I understand." He poked for more information.

    "I was taken to a therapist after fleeing from my captor. At that point, I was physically emaciated and unable to walk around. I was also reliving all the torture I had gone through for seven months. The psychiatrist basically told me to get over it and told me I was faking it." I had to shrug. I didn''t have many feelings about this person because I understood the circumstances I had faced were impossible in the eyes of others.

    "And your eating habits, what about them? Anyments about that?" Dr Knight was furiously scribbling notes on a piece of paper.

    "I eat a lot of vegetables and fish. I avoid meat at all costs."

    "And why is that?" he asked curiously.

 Chapter 70: Sleep With Me

    Chapter 70: Sleep With Me

    "You haven''t read the files, have you?" she smiled.

    "No, Sebastian told me your symptoms but never really spoke about the trauma. I didn''t think it would be brought up during our primary session. We haven''t created a rapport for you to tell me what happened to you and I certainly don''t want to create a n without getting a detailed note on your symptoms. But I will have to tell you that psychiatrists aren''t privy to case files. You''ll have to tell me yourself." He smiled reassuringly.

    "Have you heard of Alicia Williams?" she asked, leaning forward.

    "I believe so. Notorious cannibal and serial killer. Quite a few police officers had toe by and get it off their shoulders." He shook his head. "Were you a victim?" he asked. He must have known. But he didn''t let the answer show.

    He was testing me. To see if I considered myself a victim.

    I juggled my options. To lie and say that I was a victim or reveal what I really thought. I chose the middle ground. "Yes, she captured me from my house after murdering my whole family, including my father who was the lead investigator in the case. She also made me watch as she tortured the subsequent victims and tried to get me involved. I cooked for her. I also ate the same things she did."

    I had to smile to stop the real expression on my face from revealing.

    "And what did you eat?" No, he didn''t ask what she ate. He asked me what I ate.

    "Humans. Human meat. I ate human meat."

    There was silence. It took a moment for the room to get back into the normal ce.

    "Okay, that will be all for today. For now, I''ll be telling you something you already know. You do have PTSD. There are other underlying issues that I need to discover and help youe to terms with, as well. I''ll give a full n to you the next time we meet."

    He scribbled some more on the notepad. "We''ll be meeting twice a week for the first few months. Then, as we progress, I''ll make the frequency of the sessions lesser. But the most pressing aspect of this is yourck of sleep."

    "Myck of sleep?" I raised my brow.

    "Your source of protein is mainly from non-meat products and you work very hard. You have a fairly healthy body right now but without sleep, your body will crash. Lack of sleep also worsens the symptoms. Therefore, we need to help you sleep."

    "Are you going to prescribe me a medicine?" she asked, frowning.

    "I''m not a fan of prescribing medicine when there is no need for it. Right now, we will get you under a routine."

    He wrote some more down. "Do you know how a baby falls asleep?"

    "From what I have heard, rarely when it is needed." A smile curled at the corner of my lips.

    "No," Dr Knight chuckled. "They follow a very specific routine. And that routine basically tells their brain that it is time to sleep. You need to create a routine and get used to it." He flipped the paper around to show her.

    "First, don''t look at anything work-rted or any form of entertainment an hour before you n on going to sleep. Make your bed yourself and take a cold shower. Follow your night routine to the dot and theny down on bed and close your eyes."

    "Does that help?" I asked skeptically.

    "Studies show that it does," he reassured. "You''ll have a lot of bad thoughts. Write them down. We''ll review them in the next session, but don''t give up on falling asleep. Justy there in the darkness. Listening to calming music or a podcast also helps if you don''t look at the screen."

    I thought for a bit.

    "Anything else that I need to do?" I asked tentatively.

    "Do you live with anyone?" I shook my head.

    "Is there anyone you can trust and ask to stay with you?" I thought about it for a moment even though the answer was obvious. I didn''t know how I would even ask him to stay with me. "I can see there is someone that you do trust but you are reluctant..."

    Dr Knight paused. "Okay, I was going to tell you to sleep in the same bed as them for a time, like a safety nket of sorts, and to monitor you. Think about it. If you do manage, we''ll continue with this method, or I''ll tweak it to suit you. How does that sound?"

    I had to smile. "Perfect."

    Now, I just had to think if I could ask Sebastian or not. I took my leave shortly after booking my next appointment with him.

    "How was it?" Sebastian asked when I came out of the door.

    "It was fine," I shrugged. Sebastian ced the magazine aside and stood up.

    "Okay, let''s go back, then." His announcement was followed by him heading for the door. I followed behind without a sound. "Something you need to tell me?" he asked after a while.

    "So, you know," I sighed.

    "Your face is like an open book. I don''t need to be a mind reader to know that you are in a dilemma and it has to do with me." His voice was proud as usual. The man really did know everything.

    "I was asked to make changes to my sleeping pattern," I informed him. I bit my lip as I tried to say the next bit.

    "Ah, so make a concrete routine and stick to it. It works very well," he said. I looked at him surprised, suddenly realizing that he thought I needed reassurance orfort from him. I had to smile at that.

    "Yes. I also need your help."

    We had already reached the car. I slid in and watched him walk to the other side. I wondered if he had heard what I said.

    "Ask away," he finally said when he had bucked himself in.

    I turned to him and with the ndest voice I could muster, spoke the next words.

    "Sleep with me."

 Chapter 71: Strangled In Sleep

    Chapter 71: Strangled In Sleep

    "Right now?" Sebastian asked, not looking away from the road. He had a serious expression on his face and didn''t look surprised at all.

    "You''re saying yes so easily?" I replied, bbergasted. Usually, people would stare weirdly if someone asked to sleep with them. Possibly because sleeping with someone connotated sexual encounter between the two. But this man didn''t even think about what she was implying before saying yes.

    "I''m the only one you know in town and if it helps you recover, I''m willing to sacrifice my body." He nodded strangely, making me feel strange about this whole situation.

    "What do you mean sacrifice your body?" I protested. The vigor of my voice not impacting the man sitting beside me.

    "I''ll have to move in with you for the most part. Sheng Sheng will have toe, too. And I don''t know what kind of sleeping habits you have, so I will literally be putting my body on the line to help you recover."

    I huffed in frustration.

    "I haven''t strangled anyone in my sleep." Yet, I added internally. If it was Sebastian, I would pretend to sleep to let him get a taste.

    "Because you''ve never slept with anyone. Once you have a partner, all sorts of secrets about your sleeping state wille out. Maybe you snore, or kick in your sleep." Sebastian frowned. "Not to mention, your mattress isn''t the best for my back."

    I had to roll my eyes. "No disrespect, Mr. Butler, but maybe go to an orthopedic to get your back checked. You''re definitely getting old. Also, stop sleeping like a mummy. It''s freaky." I breathed in a victorious gush of air. Whatever that meant.

    "I don''t sleep like a mummy!" Sebastian protested and fired up the car''s engine.

    "I don''t want to wake up in the middle of the night to that horrifying sight. Please act like a human." The conversation continued into the university where students greeted them. Sebastian had gone to lengths about how superior his sleeping method was. No doubt, this genius thought himself perfect in all ways.

    "Beware. I might try to pull out your brains through your nose in the middle of the night," I promised threateningly. I could see people turn to look at us when I said that. For the most part, people had ignored them but this must have gotten their ears working.

    I slowed down, trying not to say anything scandalous after that.

    "I''m already letting you sleep with me and you pay me back like this?" he scoffed. The surrounding people turned away as quickly as possible, some of their eyes wide with excitement.

    "Shut up," I warned him.

    "You''ll regret it," he began. "I''m a ve to the modernization of medicine and surgical practices but I draw the line at taking my brains out. It''s precious and can only function within my body. I''ll fight you to death if you try."

    I nodded quickly and was going to speed up when he held me back. "Also, if you''re capable of being violent, should I be scared of you jumping in my sleep?"

    I wanted the ground to split up and swallow me. "I''m not going to act like an animal, Mr. Butler," I grit out through my teeth.

    "You have a lot of repressed emotions, you can never tell." I wondered if he was being obtuse but when I turned to look him in the eye and beg him to stop, I saw the amusement in his eyes. He was doing this on purpose. In the distance, I could see students from sses I sat in on, staring at me. Sebastian looked at them too. The receivers of his gaze were usually men.

    Confused, I let the matter go and turned to retort.

    "I''m throwing you out. I''ll find someone else," I said without a shift in expression.

    "Someone else?" he almost yelled.

    "Yes, I''ve found that you''re not supportive and understanding in your ways. I''ll just find someone who is more understanding of my situation. Even if I jump them." I gave him a pointed re.

    "I''ll have to warn you. I have extensive knowledge in the field of psychology and can help you if you meet any adverse situation. Someone else wouldn''t be well equipped to do the same. And not everyone is so controlled as I am. If you jump an unsuspecting person, they''ll not control their animal nature. You''ll be swallowed alive while you are unconscious."

    There was no hint of panic in his voice after the initial one of surprise. I turned to re at him.

    "So be it." I strode into the facultymon room and ced my bag. The first ss was in ten minutes, so I had to prepare for it. Sebastian didn''t say another word for the rest of the day.

    When they came back to theplex, I went to my apartment without prompting. I was just preparing to have some fruit for snacks when the calling bell sounded. I looked over my shoulder towards the front door and had a sneaking suspicion that it was Sebastian. I padded towards it without a hurry, wanting to make him wait for a while.

    When I peered through the peeping hole, I saw ck fur. Confused, I pulled back and opened the door quickly.

    "Oh," I sighed. Sebastian was holding up Sheng Sheng in front of the door, leading to the strange sight. Sheng Sheng was looking healthy and the shine of her fur made me want to cuddle with her. I leaned in, extending my arms so that she could jump into them.

    "Traitor," Sebastian muttered as he walked in, bypassing me. Sheng Sheng rubbed herself against my clothes and purred. I closed the door behind me and followed Sebastian in without a word.

    "What brings you here?" I asked. He had already taken a seat

    "We have interviews with the victims on tape. We''ll be analyzing them to see what they have inmon and how we can make a profile for the perpetrator."

    He held up a pendrive to show me. I nodded.

    "Set it up on myptop. I''m cutting fruits," I told him. I ced Sheng Sheng into hisp and strode towards the kitchen without another word.

    When I came out with the te of fruits, Sebastian had already set everything up. He looked up and patted the seat beside him. I gave him a smile and ced the te between us.

 Chapter 72: Jumping To Conclusions

    Chapter 72: Jumping To Conclusions

    Sebastian gave me a sideward nce before turning theptop screen towards me.

    "I want you to look at the tapes closely. You might learn a lot from books, but practical experience and viewings of the investigation will speed up your progress multiple folds."

    I nodded in understanding and asked for him to start ying the video. His finger lurked over the spacebar when he spoke further. "I''ll exin the technique and reactions in a bit of detail. Add in anything you feel is relevant."

    "You want me to make my suggestions." I hummed.

    Before he started ying, he didn''t give context about who they were watching. Presumably, it was one of the victims. In a different sense, all information regarding the suspect would be given to her for her to browse through, but Sebastian was taking a more haunting take on it.

    I just trusted him and yed along.

    Sebastian finally began to speak. The words sounded like those right out of one of his lectures.

    "Our first suspect is a member of the army. The rigid power structure of the institution has a stark psychological impact on the cogs that run this system and how it operates. The behavioral mannerisms are based on the hierarchicalmand within the army, leading to differentiated patterns than that seen in ayman. The mechanism of the army forces its officers to be dispassionate and calctive, which during a time of war will have a great impact on the oue."

    He stopped and looked at me, asking for permission to continue.

    "In that case, theirmands and hierarchy is an important part of their personal identity. In situations of war or emergency, military personnel not only havemand over their army subordinates but also the civilian poption inhabiting in the area of conflict," he continued when I nodded.

    "The importance of obedience is relentlessly ingrained into volunteers through indoctrination and essentially forges a mindset that ensures the fast and urate transmission of orders andmunications. There is no error nor hesitation in the field of military operation. And total respect and acquiescence to any superior are essential."

    "It is a rigid sociological hierarchy that has been ongoing for hundreds of years..." I mulled over. "Is our suspect a high ranking officer in the army?" I asked tly.

    Sebastian smirked and wagged his finger in front of her. "You don''t get all your answers that soon. You must first understand the area we are dealing with before jumping to a conclusion. We don''t know if the murderer is from the army. We do know the victim is."

    My eyes widened considerably as I realized that this was not a game of just analyzing but also critiquing the methods of the police. He was giving me a strict lesson on not assuming things. I had to say, I was guilty of this far more than I had initially believed.

    I suspect people by the look in their eyes or circumstances... because I believe that I know the look in their eyes. But that could be possibly problematic. I had understood that from the many sses I had sat in on. Alicia had wide, maniacal eyes that gleamed with interest and mischief. Howard Hunt, on the other hand, had a sad and violent aura. He was more turned towards impulse and desperation than the qualities of the other. There were different types. Simply basing it on instincts that I had cultivated didn''t mean I was right. I also couldn''t write off that not all people with that look in their eyes were criminals.

    These were things to consider.

    Sebastian went on to continue. "This is the real reason an enlisted person ismonly referred to as their surname or nicknames, whereas officers are recognized by rank. The higher they are in rank, the greater the importance of these hierarchical nomenture bes." He gave a significant pause.

    He pressed the space bar and the image of a man in a uniform.

    "Richard Davis became embroiled in the air force and was soon promoted to captain. From that moment on, he would be addressed as ''sir'' by his subordinates and Captain by his superiors. Being an exemry pilot and exalted individual in the military, he quickly rose through the ranks. He was essentially in fullmand of seven thousand military personnel who would be subservient to him."

    I had to add in at that moment. "This would have given him an extreme amount of psycho-social equanimity and confidence and wasn''t exclusive to his work life." I mulled over it for a minute.

    "His designated title would be printed on all forms of identification and every encounter would sanctify this position and restore his authority, boosting hisposure and self-assurance. There was one exception however and that was the day he met detective Sam Smith."

    I turned to the screen.

    Indeed, this was our suspect.

    "Sam Smith is an exalted officer and specializes in interrogative methods. He''s well known in the industry," Sebastian exined. I nodded in understanding. Finally, Sebastian yed the video.

    <em>"Have a seat, Richard," the detective on the screen said.</em>

    He paused the video again. "Before rifying the psychological relevance as to why a detective would purposefully refrain from addressing a respected official by his title, first circumvent each of the elements and circumstances that led to the meeting of the two."

    I sighed in frustration. Sebastian smiled and pulled out a file from his bag and handed it to me.

    "You could have given this to me beforehand, you know?" I grumbled.

    "What''s the fun in that?" he asked. He nudged me to open it and read the file.

 Chapter 73: Air Of Invincibility

    Chapter 73: Air Of Invincibility

    The gist of the file was as follows:

    A few days before the interrogation, Marcus Wright received a call from his mother midday that his younger sister Amy Wright had failed to show up to work and wasn''t responding to phone calls or texts. He drove to her home and discovered that she wasn''t there. There was no sign of a break-in, but she usually didn''t keep her phone unlocked or leave her belongings behind. The city has a low crime rate and is one of the safest cities in the country. A missing person report was filed and the police took the matter seriously because she was a member of the army. A task force was created for the search and the police took immediate action. The word spread fast across the city with the help of the media and on the second day, an anonymous citizen came up with some information. The man was driving past her house the night before her disappearance and noticed an SUV parked near her house in the field. He stated that he remembered feeling that something was odd, the car was parked unusually at such an odd hour. The man had driven past the area thousands of times before and never seen this car there. Police canvassed the area and found tire-tracks on the field. They also found boot prints leading up to her house. They had attained the first two pieces of evidence, which became the foundation of the next stage of the investigation. Police set up roadblocks in the surrounding area and paused all SUVs that passed. Reportedly, they stopped over 300 vehicles for the next four days without luck. They were on the verge of calling it off when they had a breakthrough.

    Richard''s car was stopped at one of the roadblocks and was sent on his way after just two minutes of checking. Unbeknownst to him, he was ced under police supervision from that moment on as his tires were aplete match to the tracks found near her house. Two dayster, he received a call from police headquarters asking him to visit the premises to answer some questions in rtion to the missing person''s case. He didn''t enquire about the case he was going to be questioned about and told his wife that he would be back for dinner that evening.

    He was greeted by the detective, a trained polygraph technician, and lead investigator for the police behavioral investigation unit. He was taken to the interrogation room where he was shown the microphone and the cameras before being seated.

    "I''ve gone through the file," I said after a couple of minutes. Sebastian grinned and yed the video again.

    The detective and suspect started to make small talk about the current situation.

    <em>"Have you ever been interrogated by the police?"</em> Sam Smith asked.

    <em>"I have never been interviewed by police, but I have been interviewed by the intelligence agency regarding top-secret clearance."</em> Replied the Captain.

    "There are three types of security clearance: confidential, secret, and top-secret, which is what Richard Davis just specified. This takes 8 months to be cleared and only a select few are given this jurisdiction as disclosing top secret information may lead to a threat to national security. Remember that the detective didn''t call him by his title, so he reminded the detective of his authority in this manner within 30 seconds of the previous statement."

    I thought about it for a second and then added in my thoughts.

    "It''s a testament to his idea that he is invincible and just how assured he felt in that situation."

    Without telling me if I was correct or not, and continued.

    "This is quickly brushed to the side by the detective and he continues to use the suspect''s name casually. He sets the stage for the interview and takes the suspect down from the elevated tform the suspect puts himself on and to diminish his confidence and air of invincibility. This precedes the telling signs in bodynguage and intonation when lying and also decreases stamina, lessening the time an individual can keep a facade before they break. cing the subject on an even tform allows the detective to exercise and mystify his own powers, which will serve a purpose in theter stages of the interrogation. This demoralizes the suspect but at the same time maintains a rapport, giving a reason for the detective''s non-confrontational disposition."

    The interviewer proceeded to tell him that they are taking the case seriously and that the police department is unwilling to give up on a missing person until they have concrete proof that Amy Wright was dead. This was why they had to work on a Sunday and Richard had to be called in. He said that the interview was going to be long and thorough as they didn''t want to call people over and over again.

    "This statementpletely dis-includes Richard and doesn''t give him any inclination that he is a suspect. In turn, it establishes that he is someone who can help them solve the problem, feeding his ego without taking away from the fact that he is still being called casually. This dichotomy keeps the rapport going, without elevating the person and giving them space to build their mental barriers."

    I suddenly realized that I needed to take notes of this conversation. I wanted to bang my head against the wall for not considering this earlier.

    "Wait, I''ll write this down." I reached for the notepad and pen and started to scribble short notes on what had been said already. Sebastian waited beside me, peeking at the notes and then nodding.

    "Your analysis is helpful. Share it with me tomorrow, will you?" heplimented. I stared at him nkly and then gave a timid nod. How my notes would help him, I don''t know. But if he said it would, I didn''t have any objection to it.

 Chapter 74: Remain My Assistant Forever

    Chapter 74: Remain My Assistant Forever

    They turned back to the video. The detective proceeded to exin that he is a lover of tea and asked Richard if he would like some. Richard politely declined, saying that though he likes tea, he was more of a coffee drinker.

    "Usually, ayman would have chimed in and nodded along with the detective because the power of the detective is much higher than their own, but Richard holds an official position in the army and his confidence is higher than the normal person. This is why he is able to exert his own opinion and casually say no. Notice that there is no significant change in his bodynguage yet. He doesn''t suspect that he will be caught, he has no fear of that happening."

    I wrote that down carefully, adding a little question in the margin. ''Is it a casual question or has the detective asked it to gauge the suspect''s reaction? It could also be used to build rapport.''

    <em>"I have a simple rule when I am talking to someone and I know that you are the same. I treat people with respect."</em> The detective established. He proceeded to read out Richard''s rights after assuring him that it was normal procedure.

    "Any time you feel you want to leave, the door is not locked. You can walk out at any time."

    This reminded me of the situation at the psychiatrist''s office.

    "Although the suspect was free to leave at any time, there was a subtle yet highly subconscious strategy to stop Richard from going out. The detective sat between Richard and the door. Almost every interrogation uses this technique. It is a subliminal message that tells the suspect that if they want out of the situation, they will have to pass through the detective. It is widely argued if this technique works. On one hand, it can act as an impactful emotional barrier that is often prevented suspects from leaving the area where they are vulnerable, on the other hand, psychologists also argue that it puts undue pressure on the person being interviewed and can lead to false confessions and problems in the court if the defensewyer can establish that a confession was ''coerced.''"

    I thought about that carefully. "Dr. Knight had a simr setup. I asked him casually if that was what he was doing, as well but heughed."

    "You must understand that the patient is not a suspect. It is the demeanor of the person asking the questions that determines the purpose of this technique. The doctor is there to help you, that is their universal task. A detective is out to catch the criminal. No matter how friendly they are, they are doing a job. That puts pressure on the person being interviewed," Sebastian casually exined.

    "It''s interesting how simr techniques can elicit different emotions in people." And that was something to think about.

    "Write down your thoughts. Academic papers written about victim interrogations and techniques are scarce. If you need field experience, I can ask the officers to let you watch in and evaluate." The offer was enticing.

    "I get to write academic papers, too?" I asked with amusement.

    "Did you think you''ll remain my assistant forever? You need to surpass me in investigation. Just because I excel in profiling serial killers doesn''t mean you can''t have your own area of expertise." He shrugged.

    "You clearly think far ahead in the future." I looked at him with admiration.

    "I have faith in you. With your ability, it would take a thousand men to pull you down from what you will achieve." With his mentorship, of course, I had to add in my head.

    "Enough of this talk. Let''s watch the video."

    The detective told him that he could contact awyer at any time. The suspect smirked as if showing that he was confident that there would be nothing incriminating against him. He didn''t need awyer in his opinion.

    <em>"I want to exin to you exactly what is going on, okay? Amy Wright is one of four cases that we are currently investigating and essentially what has happened is that over the past 6 months, there have been four urrences where someone entered women''s houses during evening hours andmitting sexual assault."</em>

    "There were 25 break-ins and 30 cases of sexual assault in the city that year, resulting in theft of female garments. All these urrences took ce near Richard''s home, who is the prime suspect for the four cases at the time of his interrogation," Sebastian added helpfully.

    The detective went on to give the names and case histories of the four women.

    <em>"Essentially when you look at those crimes, we are looking at different charges. It arches over first-degree murder, sexual assault, kidnapping, forcible confinement, and trespassing. When we find out who is responsible for one or all of those crimes, they will be charged with them. Whether it is you or somebody else. This is why it is important that you understand what you have to look out for when you are talking to us. I reiterate, if you feel like you need awyer, let me know I will take you to a separate room where you can consult awyer."</em> The detective paused. <em>"Is there a chance that you wish to speak to awyer before starting this interrogation?"</em>

    The detective hadid out all the facts in front of him without threatening the suspect. He had also repeatedly asked Richard if he wanted awyer, showing proof that the right wasn''t stolen from him.

 Chapter 75: Alternate Questioning

    Chapter 75: Alternate Questioning

    "We can see from his vocal intonation and bodynguage that his attitude is changing," I noted.

    "The analysis of vocal intonation is tricky when dealing with interrogations as they are not admissible in court. But you can see that Richard is very ufortable with the situation and it is exuding from his bodynguage." Sebastian told her quickly.

    "Despite not being admissible in court, the knowledge can be used by the detective. Part of their job is to ess and go with their gut in such situations. Can you exin Richard''s bodynguage to me?"

    I thought about it for a minute, rewinding to a minute earlier and closely following his actions. "The way he is speakinges across as slightly nervous and unsure. He would appear to be agitated in the way he is processing the information andmunicating his stances."

    "Good job," Sebastianplimented quickly. "This type of cognitive recognition is a difficult thing to articte and investigators simply categorize it as instinct, which the detective no doubt had felt at this moment. He will be certain that Richard was guilty by the way he was talking, silent with a hint of nervousness. Incongruous with how a military person would normally carry himself." Sebastian''s exnation was articte, much like his lectures. Only, he was much more patient and happy to exin. His expression showed that he was going an extra mile for her.

    I had to wonder if I was getting preferential treatment or if he saw me as a weak student and had to nurture me more.

    <em>"Essentially, we wanted to talk to you about those four cases and see what you say to us. You have almost hit the nail on some of the issues that make us want to talk to you. Because there is a connection between you and all four of those cases, geographically. Would you agree?"</em> My ears perked up. The detective broached the topic so casually, letting Richard tell for himself if he a probably suspect without saying it outright. It was a great move in front of a person who likedplete control of any situation.

    <em>"Uh I do drive past that--"</em> Richard admitted quickly but stop mid-sentence.

    <em>"Hmm?"</em> the detective prompted.

    <em>"Yeah, I would say there is a connection."</em>

    Richard was asked to state his movement and activities.

    "This is known as gathering pretext. The detective wants to get an initial alibi of the suspect before the confrontational phase of the interrogation begins. This is the calmest state the suspect will be kept in before the detective ramps up the pressure. The more rxed the suspect is, usually the more detailed pretext and more information to scrutinize and corrte with will be provided. The detective can pick up on any changes or discrepancies in eventster on citing this alibi."

    I blinked. "So, it''s literally the pleasure of catching someone in a lie. Sounds like fun," I snickered finally.

    "Well, it can be fun but keep your expression straight. You shouldn''t show your actual feelings on your face in front of a suspect!" Sebastian warned. I nodded enthusiastically and turned back to the screen.

    The alibi went on and the suspect stated that he was in a different city, suffering from stomach flu. The detective asked more specific questions, asking for specific times and events that he would remember.

    <em>"Not sure. Uh"</em> The suspect started. He gave tentative timings, trying to evademitment to anything. He tried to act nonchnt but I could see the thoughts rolling in his head. He was trying to think of a way to disassociate himself from the crime.

    Richard stared at the door with a thoughtful expression throughout his exnation, nodding his head sagely, almost showing signs of feeling triumphant that he coulde up with an alibi so instantly.

    He didn''t look at the detective for prolonged periods of time, almost scared that he would reveal something he doesn''t want to. This was another sign of guilt that the detective must have picked up on.

    <em>"If you didn''t have the stomach flu, what were you nning on doing?"</em>

    Sebastian paused the video immediately. "Alternate questioning is a method of seeing what the suspect wille up with as a separate alibi in an alternate situation. It brings out what their thought process is like. Usually, they will avoid any mention of the situation and try to act like it is of no importance to them. Like, if the detective asked, how would you make someone disappear, he would have a hard time answering that question because he has made someone disappear. He would probably give an answer after much hesitation, but he would purposefully avoid the method he used to make the girl disappear. It is a choice he makes."

    "A person who is not guilty will not feel like the question is very important and answer immediately, listing off things others can do to make someone disappear. Another thing to note is that someone guilty will keep saying how horrible the methods are and how he was just stating the methods and that it had nothing to do with him. He might say something like ''I am not saying that is what happened. You understand, right?'' He would constantly look for reassurance."

    He yed the video again.

    <em>"It was a standard schedule in the office. So, I don''t remember the specifics, but there would have been a brief with a couple of officers in the morning and then a couple of meetings."</em> There were a lot of ''uh''s and ''um''s as he said those words.

 Chapter 76: The Cross Road

    Chapter 76: The Cross Road

    <em>"Okay, so what did you do the day before?"</em> the detective asked. He didn''t have any notes, but he sure remembered a lot of details and stuck to the narrative he was driving home.

    <em>"That day, during the day, I was at the base and doing what was standard. Again, I don''t remember the specifics. I went out in the evening after spending all my day at the base, there were no flights, though."</em> Standard response. He didn''t remember specific things. It was just a normal day.

    <em>"Do you remember what time you left the base?"</em>

    "Make note that the method of gathering pretext will be focused on the murder of the woman," Sebastian added quickly. We turned back to the video and watched closely.

    <em>"I want to take you back to the day of the death of Miss Wright. Do you remember how you came to find out about the incident?"</em>

    <em>"Yes, I do,"</em> he said confidently. The detective had put the question out in such a way that there was no suspicion in his voice and he was giving the suspect a leeway to make an alternative answer, to make an alibi which the detective could pick apartter on. <em>"I remember receiving an email about the cruel incident and everyone was talking about it."</em>

    ''The cruel incident,'' he had said. This was amon technique to distance himself from the crime and subliminally say that ''he'' was not capable of such a heinous act.

    <em>"How do you know her?"</em>

    <em>"I remember once that she was on the same crew as me. We exchanged pleasantries."</em> Richard went on to exin the encounter, giving details that he shouldn''t have remembered from the single encounter they had.

    It struck me. He was ovepensating for the answers he didn''t have by giving too many details for something he did remember. But the only thing he was doing was establishing that the single passing meeting with the victim had left a mark on him and he vividly remembered it even though it had been months since it had actually happened.

    <em>"Do you remember roughly when that happened?"</em>

    "It was soon after I got to the base, so five or six months?" The number of months the break-ins and sexual assaults had been taking ce in that region. How very convenient.

    <em>"Now, you received an email. Do you recall if there was anything scheduled that week? What was happening in your life?"</em> The detective brought Richard back to the timeline of the crime.

    "I can''t remember in detail..." he repeated a few times. He sounded apologetic. In contrast to the vivid detail of the meeting, this paled inparison. "I can''t even remember the day of the week." He sighed. "There was a whole bunch of activities going on..." he said atst.

    In quick session, he had stated that he couldn''t remember the answer to the question. The normal conversation between individuals would usually posit the person asking the question to reassure the individual it was directed at. Usually, they would say, ''don''t worry if you can''t remember. We''ll move on,'' or ''it was a long ago, it must be difficult to recollect'' would be awarded as a form of constion and to also break the ufortable silence. Even during some witness testimonials, some form of emotional assistance and encouragement will be given, especially to someone recollecting a disturbing event from the past. On this asion, the detective provides no assurance, he only stoically gazes at the suspect and doesn''t shift even a little bit during the moment of silence. The detective was clearly ying into the game theory of interaction. Very basic tactics in interrogation and conversation situations.

    The detective was trying to break into what littlefort Richard had left.

    <em>"So if we were to investigate into your background, is there anything you can think of that someone might have misinterpreted and say that you did this?"</em>

    <em>"Absolutely not!"</em> Richard answered immediately.

    <em>"Okay..."</em> the detective replied dispassionately.

    <em>"It would be very boring..."</em> The words were mumbled but I could hear it as clear as day.

    <em>"Excuse me?"</em> the detective asked.

    <em>"I said, that would be boring."</em> There was a little reassurance in his voice, unfounded and hopefully soon to be broken down again.

    <em>"You seem like a very intelligent person and I know you can see that there are some rm bells in the investigation..."</em> The suspect nodded. <em>"The next thing we need to ask given the types of crimes we are investigating do you watch any crime shows?"</em>

    <em>"I have watched a little."</em>

    <em>"So you have an idea of the forensic capabilities out there. What would you be willing to give me today to help me move past you in this investigation?"</em>

    <em>"What do you need?"</em> Richard stammered.

    <em>"Do you want to supply fingerprints, blood samples?"</em> The fact that the detective was letting the suspect decide gave the suspect a sense of power, a choice that he has to make for himself to either prove his innocence or to re-evaluate how he can dupe the system into thinking he was innocent.

    <em>"Sure."</em>

    <em></em>"Wait, this actually worked? Shouldn''t a man in the military know more about this and know that he can deny taking a test under many pretexts that doesn''t look suspicious?" I asked, clearly confused.

    "Though he is in the military, the information out there that is true about the forensic procedure is little. People don''t know that there are other ways. But Richard wants everyone to believe he is innocent so he will concede to everything." Sebastian exined.

    "This is known both in psychology and philosophy as a cross-road, a moment in your life when a single instantaneous choice will take you to multiple exceedingly different oues. The only two pieces of evidence acquired at the time were the tire-track and footprints. The DNA found on the body was not admissible as the body was highly dposed at the time and gic analysis was not possible because the oues could be wildly different from the truth. Remember that this was before the advent of the new DNA testing method known as next-generation sequencing."

 Chapter 77: Beyond Control

    Chapter 77: Beyond Control

    I had to add to his assessment. "The suspect had been very careful and had not left his DNA on any of his victims apart from one. The evidence was found on a victim who was forcibly detained and was by far not the most serious crime that could be pegged on Richard. Furthermore, just bringing up that evidence would leave him open to walk away, not taking the me for the more severe crimes."

    Sebastian nodded. There was a gleam of pride in his eyes. "You''re reading up on forensic knowledge andw aren''t you?" I just smirked.

    "Of course. I don''t need spoonfeeding. I should be of better use than just taking care of your paperwork. What''s the point of doing something half-assed?" I shrugged.

    "Have some fruit," Sebastian said quickly, picking up a piece and pushing it into my mouth without warning. I stared at him in surprise but he had already turned back to the screen and was speaking.

    "The evidence of the tire-tracks could easily be refuted by the defense team as it could be said that many other trucks had the same tire. And footprints are not admissible in our country. None of this evidence can peg Richard as the criminal without reasonable doubt. The defense would have many ways of maneuvering out of it and the suspect could go scot-free," I rationalized.

    Sebastian nodded. "Watch," he ordered. I closed my mouth and watched.

    As the detective brought up the evidence they had, Richard looked down at his shoes subconsciously.

    "You must have seen this method used in thrillers and shows like the Mentalist. It is a matter of bodynguage and was one of the tells written in a lot of interrogation manuals. While it is not a science, this has more to do with the gut than anything," Sebastian interjected.

    Richard gave the response.

    <em>"You will need to give your footprint impressions, as well. That''s all we''re going to ask you."</em>

    Twenty minutes passed and a detective came in and took prints of Richard''s shoes. The size of his feet, the impression of the underside were also taken. When the detective came back, his demeanor was a little different.

    <em>"I told you that I would treat you with respect if you did the same with me. I''m trying to be as discreet as possible, but the problem is that every time I walk out of the room, some more issuese up. These issues don''t discard you as a suspect, they only reinforce the department''s suspicions on you."</em> The detective''s voice was full of concern. Quite fascinating.

    "Notice how he doesn''t say that he is the one who suspects Richard. This is another way of subliminally saying that the others are the problem, he will not believe it unless he has concrete proof. He is showing that he believes in the suspect and his testimony. This can, at times, make the suspect feel guilty about lying to the detective they think they havee to know and have a rapport with." I turned to stare at him.

    "Isn''t it hard to talk to someone who has done vicious things to others? How do detectives hold that in?" I asked, wincing slightly. I probably wouldn''t make a good interrogator. I was too prejudiced.

    "While detectives believe keeping your feelings in is how the truthes out easily. I won''t say the same. They''re humans, too. They might be criminals, but they also need a chance to tell their story... the chance to confess without being treated like an animal." The words were said with such passion that I had to look back. The man that seemed so cold and aloof, he thought a great deal about people.

    "Shouldn''t someone who sees the evil in the world be more cynical?" I challenged.

    He shook his head. "When you see the worst side of humanity, you start to believe that there is good in the world too. Life would be too dark otherwise."

    I chuckled. Well, you could see it in that way, too.

    <em>"I want you to see what I mean,"</em> the detective pleaded.

    <em>"Alright."</em>

    The detective gingerly brought out two pieces of paper and held it in front of him. He didn''t let Richard see it before he exined what it was.

    <em>"This is the footwear impression of the person who approached the rear of the victim''s house on the evening of the crime. When youe down to footwear impressions, a member of our team is world-renowned..."</em> The affirmations were false and were made to psychologically weaken the suspect. Footprints are not admissible or seen as undeniable proof. They are not incriminating or distinguishing.

    "Although experts of footwear imprints exist, there was no one on the premise at the time. He just printed out the images in the office and brought it over," Sebastian chuckled.

    "He even made up the name of the specialist," I added, pointing to the video in awe.

    <em>"This is what you are wearing and this is what was found. While I am not an expert, they are very much like fingerprintparisons. You take a look at this print you know these are identical."</em> There was helplessness in the detective''s voice. It was surprising how good of an actor he was.

    The sigh was soft. <em>"Okay."</em>

    <em>"Your vehicle drove up the side of her house. Your boots walked to the back of her house. In the evening she went missing. You want discretion, we need to have some honesty. This is damning evidence and it is getting out of control."</em> He emphasized.

    The suspect hummed nervously and shifted in his seat, sitting up ramrod straight. The next few minutes were spent in silence.

    <em>"This is beyond my control."</em>

    Sebastian leaned in and whispered, "This is the previously discussed tactic of the interrogator exaggerating his own power while maintaining his rapport with the suspect. He is saying ''hey, I want to get you out of this situation, but the evidence is too hard for me to get you out of his mess. I am on your side, buddy.''"

 Chapter 78: Laying Down the Risks

    Chapter 78: Laying Down the Risks

    "He is essentially telling Richard that he is a friend and that the detective can only do what is within his power if Richard acknowledges the usation. For now, the detective will be okay if he simply says that he was present at the scene of the crime."

    "The reason for trying to get him to say that he was at the scene and not to the actual crime is to afford Richard multiple options that he can choose from. The detective wants to see which story Richard takes on. An outright usation will lock up the suspect and cause them to deny everything as a reflex. They would probably request legal counsel and stop the interrogation.

    "Leaving an exit strategy for the suspect results in a higher chance of acknowledgment. Richard could, hypothetically, say that he was at the scene but also mention alternate reasons why he was there. It wouldn''t be a confession but it would get the detective leeway to question the alibi. It would further build the case."

    Now that was a lot to think about. I quickly wrote everything he had down. In detail.

    Psychologically speaking, once someone hasplied with a smaller request, they are more likely toply with arger demand.

    <em>"I called you in and gave you the respect you deserved because I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But both of us know that you were at the victim''s house and I need to know why."</em> You had to give it up for the detective. This was some good police work. No threats or maniption, simple conversation tactics to make the other person speak.

    Richard was looking down and not replying. The detective ced a palm on his cheek and waited for a response.

    <em>"I don''t know what to say..."</em> Richard''sposure was breaking and it was evident. He could see his alibi slowly falling apart and in some part of his subconscious mind, he probably knew that whatever he said would lead to his conviction.

    <em>"You need to exin it because this is a problem. These decisions aren''t made by me. Right now we have a search warrant to check your house. So your wife knows what you are being used of."</em> From the blurry side angle, I could see Richard''s eyes widen and then sharply close. <em>"Your summer house is also being searched and your vehicle has been seized."</em>

    There was no way out for him. That was the ultimate message.

    <em>"We will get a match with your DNA by the end of the evening. This is a major investigation and there is a big, dedicated team working on it twenty-four-seven. You have the opportunity to take some control and have some exnation that anybody is going to believe is quickly expiring."</em> I had never heard someone politely threaten another person.

    Sebastian jumped in. "The narrative technique was a variant of the reframing technique which is when the interrogator reframes the risks associated with not cooperating and the gains associated with cooperating. In this situation, the detective isying down the risks: his wife has found out, his subordinates will find out, his power will be taken away from him and everyone will know what he has done. The authority in his words, the authenticity of it will not only be questioned but also disregardedpletely."

    "Ah, yes. We are quite familiar with the reframing technique. Attributes of it are used in our linguistic courses," I reported to him softly.

    Sebastian nodded. "Another aspect of it is the gain he will get from confessing: the suspect will get to spin his own narrative of the crime and effectively sound better than the situation actually was. The other person at the scene is already dead, there would be no one to refute. But dead bodies and evidence speak, especially with modern forensic tools."

    "But how is it possible to create their own narrative when the evidence isid down in front of everyone?" I asked, confused.

    "Think of it this way. Though we have all the evidence, we were not present at the scene of the crime. In that way, we can''t have an ''authentic'' scene apart from the one Richard gives us."

    "But ording to forensic science, the body is supposed to tell the details," I countered, trying to grasp the meaning.

    "No. We can''t know what happened exactly. The particrs can change the whole sentencing of the criminal. Think of it in that way." Sebastian''s exnation made sense. Actual crime scenes were different from the ones people saw on the television. There were no omniscient detectives running around imagining the whole scene y out to the smallest details.

    "I understand. But also, this technique gives the suspect a sense of power in how his life will pan out henceforth."

    Sebastian grinned. "Exactly." I gave him a proud smile and turned back to the video.

    <em>"Okay..."</em> there was a long pause. <em>"Give me some time."</em>

    <em>"Sure. When the evidencees in and that phone rings your credibility is gone. Because this is how it works and I know you are an intelligent person and you don''t need an exnation. Your mind must be racing right now and it''s normal. I have sat across from a lot of people in your position. Bottom line is, as soon as we get that piece of evidence that solidifies it it''s all over."</em> Pause. <em>"You know you have one option what other option do you have?"</em> The detective supplied. So, there it was. ''You have no option.''

    <em>"What is the option?"</em> Richard asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive position. Or was it that he was trying to hold himself together?

    <em>"I don''t think you want to be seen as the cold-blooded psychopath."</em> He didn''t spell out the option. <em>"I might be wrong. I have met people who enjoy and get off on notoriety. They liked thatbel. I don''t see that in you."</em>

    This, again, was the reframing technique. Here the detective was insinuating that Richard was not a monster, at least in his eyes.

    <em>"I wouldn''t be talking to you if I thought you were a monster. I could have sent someone else in."</em>

 Chapter 79: Death Brings Justice

    Chapter 79: Death Brings Justice

    Sebastian paused. "In older terms, this technique was called the Ego-Up and Fear-Up techniquesbined. The detective is heightening the perspective aspects of the suspect''s character while also instilling the fear of this perceived character being stained." He paused. "I''ll refer some books to you on the subject. This is a very good technique to use during practical cases."

    The detective kept talking, ying the narrative up. <em>"This can have a bad ending and her parents can continue to search for her and never find her a huge search is on and we will continue to search for her until her body is found. It could happen tonight for all you know."</em>

    Richard sighed.

    While sighs are attributed to sadness and frustration, they are also linked to the fight or flight response as the additional oxygen is preparing the individual for battle. The thought of the body being found the same evening evoked a subconscious emotion of danger, resulting in this reaction. That was my analysis. Years of speech analysis and linguistic study had taught me this much.

    I was surprised how much my education was helping in thispletely different field of study. Indeed, all things in the world are interdisciplinary.

    <em>"Once that happens, I don''t know what you could possibly do to get out of it. Tell me what we are going to do."</em> After some silence, the detective repeated himself. He called Richard''s name gently.

    <em>"Only Rick, please."</em> I knew it instantly. It had worked. He was almost broken. He was going to confess soon.

    <em>"Rick, will we have to go far or dig her out?"</em>

    More silence ensued for the next 3 minutes. Richard was now mirroring the movements of the detective. His palm, too, was ced on his cheek. Sebastianmented about the association and wanting to feel a sense of security, leading to this phenomenon.

    "I can see that you are struggling with this. Tell me, exin to me what is going on in your head." Sebastian asked softly, startling her.

    "Why did it turn into a therapy session?" I asked, bewildered.

    "Sometimes, they need a little help, someone who will listen to their problems and motivations cut them some ck," Sebastian replied.

    <em>"I''m struggling thinking about how upset and afraid my wife must be right now."</em> At least this guy had some sense of love for people other than himself. From the tone of his voice, I could tell that his concern for his wife was genuine.

    The next fifteen minutes were spent talking about the different stakeholders in the case, how much it would cost, how dedicated the team was, how they were close to a breakthrough, and several questions about what Richard wanted from the detective how could he help?

    Throughout, Richard kept mimicking the detective''s motions unconsciously, showing that a bond of trust had been solidified.

    <em>"I want to meet my wife. How can I do that?"</em> he asked finally.

    <em>"You can meet her as soon as you tell me the truth so, where is she?"</em> She, the victim. That was evident.

    <em>"Got a map?"</em> Breakthrough.

    The detective moved without blinking as if nothing unnatural was happening. He quickly pulled out a map from the documents and ced it in front of him. He had been prepared for this moment since the beginning of the interrogation.

    Slowly, the location came out, and then the brutal details of the murder. The graphic details of her negotiating with him, of the sexual violence he hadmitted, and the surprise he felt on killing her were all revealed. Sebastian made no noise. He let me watch patiently, soaking in the details.

    "How was he not convicted?" I found myself asking. "The detective, in my amateur opinion, did a great job and got a confession out of him." It was dubious that he had not been caught.

    "He was a high ranking military official. They snubbed the case and made it private, never to be spoken about again. It is because of his death that they have revealed these files." That was horrible. How did ite to this?

    "So, they got him out and then asked him to retire?" I asked. What kind of a world did we live in?

    "The world is corrupt. The military was trying to make sure their reputation was not brought into question. As long as that didn''t happen, what was a couple of heinous crimes." He shrugged.

    "You don''t approve of the military," I stated.

    "Now, that is a conversation for another day." He rolled his shoulders and moved to the next video.

    I looked down at the te of fruits to see that we had unconsciously finished it. Good. The fruits were just ripe and keeping them aside would lead to a fridge full of spoiled fruits.

    "They found her body, right?" I asked. That was the least they could do.

    "They did. The police dug up her body exactly at the location he had given. They returned her body to her family and made them sign a non-disclosure agreement. It was military orders." Sebastian''s voice was low and mournful.

    "That''s horrible. They weren''t even able to mourn her death properly. But now, it is alling to light, isn''t it? Now, a psychopath has killed Richard. In a twisted way, justice was served."

    I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling.

    "You could say that. But does an act of violence really nullify or bring justice for another?" Sebastian spected.

    "This is what angers me. Sometimes, thew is unable to do anything. They let the victims rot and their families suffer. And then these peoplee around, act as vigntes." I paused. "No act of violence is justified... even if the victim is a ruthless psychopath." I sighed.

    "You''re absolutely right. Don''t think that vigntes or psychopaths who kill criminals are doing this for justice. It''s a means to their end. Maybe they are triggered, but they made a conscious choice to kill. They are no better than the people they are punishing."

    I nodded absentmindedly. "Why is the world such a dark ce?"

    "Remember, believe in the good in people. The world is a swamp, but you wade through it and try your best to get out. Everyone is doing the same. Without hope, you won''t want to live. You''ll have no choice but to extinguish your life."

    Yes, I had thought about that possibility, too. I didn''t want to admit it, but I had thought about it.

 Chapter 80: Sign of Desensitization

    Chapter 80: Sign of Desensitization

    "Don''t think about it," Sebastian warned in a grim voice.

    I turned to him in surprise and burst out into nervousughter. "What?"

    "I know what you just thought. Don''t think about it. Isn''t that why you are meeting Dr. Knight?" He raised his arm and ced his palm on my head. He brushed my hair gently as if patting Sheng Sheng.

    There he went, treating me like a pet again.

    "Is that supposed tofort me?" I asked sarcastically.

    "I''ve heard it works, so I am trying it out on you." He paused. "Is it working?" he asked innocently.

    "Not really," I replied with a shrug. In all reality, just his presence and his understanding wereforting. Very few people actually understood or tried to understand what other people were going through. On that note, he had gone the extra length to try andfort me in these moments of vulnerability.

    With that level ofmitment despite hisck of social skills, it made you think about other people. Someone who was so intelligent that they couldn''t understand others... theoretically. That was clearly not the case.

    Or was it me that he understood explicitly? Was it his need to understand and rte to me the reason why he could do so? Now, that was a rabbit hole I didn''t want to dive into.

    "What''s the next case?" I asked, snapping out of my thoughts. If he saw my mind turning, he would figure out exactly what I was thinking.

    "In the next case, we will be seeing the mind of a stalker." He pulled another file out from beside him. "Enjoy." I quickly went through it and sighed.

    "Okay. Why did I get to see the file earlier this time?" I asked.

    "The privilege of doing well in thest session." He told her with a proud nce. "You''re learning really quickly."

    "I''m far behind your students," I grumbled. I was actually pissed off about that. I spent all night reading books so that I could catch up with his master''s students. Which was close to impossible.

    "They don''t really match up to you. You have an inherent capacity when ites to criminal cases. Moreover, I''m teaching you things that those students won''t know until they get on the field. Theoretical knowledge can be acquired from books, but these things that you know and are learning, in those, you are far ahead of them," he assured.

    I nodded but didn''t believe him.

    "Let''s start the video, shall we? It''s gettingte." I nced at the clock.

    "Sure," Sebastian replied cheerfully and I gave him a weird look, confused why he was so happy all of a sudden.

    "To understand the mind of a stalker, you must first understand the influence of fantasy on the judgment of an individual. Fantasy takes us far beyond the familiar realm of belief and allows us to enter a new world that breaks away from the confinements of realism. When it stems from a positive state of mind, it can be a part of a creative process and tool in cognitive development, encouraging people to imagine themselves in different scenarios and pursuing alternate paths without exposing themselves to actual risks. By living vicariously through fantasy, they can expand their capacity for analytical thinking. However, when it stems from a sense of dejection like loneliness and despair, the immense escape it gives can be extremely addictive. The simted fulfillment from the fantasy world can rece the emotional needs one would otherwise pursue from reality. It provides immediate ess to reward."

    As usual, I quickly wrote down what he had said.

    "This produces a short-term rush simr to that of an addictive substance. Like other tendencies, the user builds up a tolerance, leading to it bing the signs of the behavior of a stalker. When forensic health professionals evaluate stalking, four essential items are taken into consideration: the nature of the rtionships between the stalker and the victim, the stalker''s motivations, the psychological and pathological realities of the stalker, the same vulnerabilities of the victim."

    I nodded and added in my input. "A key factor, in this case, was the inte search history of the suspect, 24-year-old criminalw student, William Martin. Unlike before, technology has given the police the tools to find out the motivation of the suspect with the click of a button." I paused and scrunched my brow.

    "Actually, I''m a bit surprised that someone studyingw would do this. Didn''t they catch themselves when they spiraled?" I frowned.

    Sebastian shook his head. "Just because you are studying something or work in a certain sphere doesn''t disclude you frommitting a crime. Psychology and the human condition run deep through us and make us prone to crime despite our ideology." He sighed. "Also,wyers are not just studying to gain justice, they also try to twist thew to help their clients."

    "That is true." Sometimes I sounded so prejudiced, I wanted to bang my head against the wall.

    "Okay, back to the case." Sebastian pped his hand. "Search histories and browser activity reveal a lot about the person and their thoughts that generally remain unknown by people around them or even by forensic psychologists. It is an easy tool that cuts down on investigation time and points towards the right direction. On the contrary, search history can also be misleading and should not be seen as the primary reference point to paint the character of a person."

    I started to chuckle. "Imagine going through the search history of a writer and suspecting them of murder." Sebastian nodded.

    "Exactly! But, the search history of William Martin spoke volumes. It primarily featured pornographic content with the theme of violence and torture. Furthermore, he conducted back to back searches on how tomit sexual assault and not get caught."

    Unfortunately, there are enough websites and people on the inte ready to deliver that information.

    "Several variations of the same theme were typed out. To forensics, this is a sign of desensitization to sexual activity. Excessive exposure to taboo content can lead to ack of stimulus for the person watching and lead to wanting more of the initial thrill they felt from watching this content. By nning and replicating what he saw on the screen, William Martin was trying to get that rush that he craved to feel."

    I nodded, thinking back to the famous serial killers who had sumbed to the same cycle of fantasizing.

 Chapter 81: Extraordinary Piece of Footage

    Chapter 81: Extraordinary Piece of Footage

    "His target was his ssmate fromw school, Irene McDuff. Surprisingly, the social vulnerabilities that we usually associate the victim of stalking with were absent in Irene. She was outgoing, intelligent, and well-liked. You could call her naive, though." Sebastian turned to her.

    "I know that look," I squinted at him. "I might not be outgoing or well-liked, but I am intelligent. I''m also very good at protecting myself. Don''t worry about me," I said.

    "But as you can see, there are exceptions to the rule."

    "Don''t try to scare me," I scoffed. "And why is this a topic of conversation? I am not getting stalked."

    Sebastian shrugged. "You don''t have to worry. You don''t really live alone for the most part. I''m with you, so you don''t have to worry about such things."

    I sighed. So, this was what this was about. I had a small inkling of what this man meant.

    "I already have hypervignce issues, don''t add to my problems," I told him ndly.

    "Well, I can help you ovee it." I ignored that sentence.

    "Okay, continue with this," I pointed towards theptop.

    "Williams had asked her out on a date on their first time meeting each other. They had a mutual friend who would be leaving for college and they just happened to be studying on the same campus and department. She declined and wished to remain friends. It is evident that she was trying to soften the blow, but this is something that needs to be taught to girls and boys."

    I had to sigh at that. This was what pissed me off. You are allowed to say no and not be polite. You are allowed to voice your concerns when you are ufortable. On the flip side of the coin, we also need to teach people that rejection is part of the process and pushing does no good.

    "Irene informed her friends multiple times that she felt like someone had been in her apartment when she wasn''t there. William, in actuality, had stolen a key to her apartment and had been freely moving in and out of her home when she wasn''t there. There were also instances where he went in while she was sleeping. The police also found videos of her going about her normal day.The videos spanned over months and went up to 3 hours before the estimated time of her murder."

    The police projected the image and thought that Williams had crept into her apartment in the wee hours of the morning and she had probably awoken from her sleep to see an intruder. He strangled her. From the tissues found under her nails, she put up a fight. The same marks resonated with marks on William''s arms and shoulders. She was eventually overpowered and died of asphyxiation. He proceeded to dismember her body in the bathtub with a saw, cutting her into five pieces, cing each in a separate trash bag, and then disposed of each of them across the neighborhood.

    Yes, she knew this. Upon Sebastian''s exnation, it made me wonder how far a person living in fantasy could go. How much worse could it get?

    "Her friends grew concerned when she didn''t show up to sses for two days and went to check her house. Williams had apanied them. The friends told the police that nothing in her house was out of ce. A missing person report was filed and a searchmenced. Within a few hours, part of her body was found. The rest of her body was never recovered."

    I flipped through the file to see the pictures of the scene. "The disposal method wasn''t very advanced but that could be attributed to being engrossed in the fantasy. He must haveter realized how bad the situation was."

    "Yes, which was why they knew it was an act of passion of some sort. It was not a nned killing. The police began interviews now that the case was that of a murder. One of the interviews was with William Martin. They had spoken to Irene''s friends before and had grown concerned over Irene''s incessant fear of this man. He had seemed okay when he wasing in, cooperative and saddened by the news that her body was recovered.

    "When the police had questioned him and gone through his phone, they had found the videos of him trespassing. At this point, the police could arrest him on minor charges.

    "He was bewildered at first, but then quickly his demeanor changed when he found out his house would be searched by the police. It was amon procedure, the police had told him, but he was a student ofw. He knew they were lying.What you will see next is the interrogation." I nodded. Sebastian pressed y and the image of a wild-haired man my age sitting inside an interrogation room shed.

    <em>"Alright, I will ask you a few questions. We''ve talked in the morning, so there is no need for introductions. You don''t have any weapons on you, right?"</em> The detective asked. He was a short and stout man with a southern ent.

    <em>"No,"</em> William''s voice was lethargic and he sounded almost robotic.

    The detective gave him a curious look and asked, <em>"What''s wrong with you, boy?"</em>

    Sebastian paused the video and exined what was happening to me. I was sure I looked beyond confused. "Apparently, the monotone behavior and one-word answers started post he was left behind and he knew his house had been searched. The suspect''s conduct throughout the entire procedure is not only mystifying but almost impressive. This is one of the extraordinary pieces of footage you will ever see." And then he yed the video. I watched in utter fascination as this man yed the role of a catatonic yet creepy man.

    <em>"You know her?"</em> the detective asked, producing a picture of the victim.

    <em>"Yes."</em>

    <em>"Who is it?"</em> the man asked, trying to coax out more words from the suspect.

    <em>"Irene McDuff."</em> At least he said two words, even if it was a name.

    <em>"Were you her friend?"</em> Okay, so here the detective was trying to make a clear connection between the suspect and the victim. This I had learned from the previous interrogation video.

    <em>"Yes."</em>

 Chapter 82: Implementing the Wrong Method

    Chapter 82: Implementing the Wrong Method

    <em>"When was thest time you saw her?"</em> You could see that the detective was trying his hardest to maneuver the guy to talk. They knew by that time that he had seen her that night, but they needed him to build a lie which they couldter debunk. Remember that it is also a crime to lie during an interrogation, not that it is chargeable for more than a fine, but it is at least pinning something on the suspect.

    Apparently, he had seen her three weeks ago.

    The detective paused for a second for effect and then mumbled his acknowledgment.

    <em>"How close were you to Irene?"</em> he asked. This question was one that needed a little more exnation on the suspect''s part, which was why the detective asked it probably.

    <em>"Yes."</em> I scrunched my brow.

    <em>"Look at me when you are talking,"</em> the detective said. It was hard to believe that the guy was polite despite how irritated he sounded, his ent making it quite humorous. But the situation wasn''t funny. It had been two minutes into the interrogation and the suspect had already agitated the detective. It was not a good sign, especially considering that interrogations were psychological warfare and the suspect somehow had gained an upper hand by frustrating his opponent.

    Emotional upheaval leads to making poor choices, hence it is not ideal for the interrogator to feel this way.

    The moment the detective asked the suspect to look him in the eye, William turned slowly, his head moving exorcist style and staring nkly at the detective.

    Sebastian paused the video. "The suspect has morphed himself into this abnormal and creepy character. It can be a strategy or a mental breakdown, we are unclear about that. What is incredible is that the behavior dictates the pace of the interrogation. It is a win for his side. The detective has just closed the distance andmanded eye contact, recognized techniques to increase the psychological pressure on the suspect. Yet the haunting manner in which the suspect turns his head and fixed his gaze unsettles the detective, making him look away and reposition himself." At that very moment, I could see the detective shifting back in the chair, leaning against the back and physically keeping a distance from the suspect.

    "Does this happen in interrogations?" I asked, stupefied.

    "Almost never. It takes quite a lot to unsettle a seasoned detective, especially since they have seen loads of people try different techniques to evade the truth. Rarely do theye face to face with someone with the mental capacity to hold on to their methods."

    The approach of the detective softened, he started to sway away from his line of questioning and spoke about the suspect''s interests inw. It seemed like he was trying to open him up to conversation by making him talk about himself. It was a good technique, but it didn''t work on William. He strongly held on to the character he was performing, just answering lifelessly with no more than three words.

    The detective asked such questions for a couple of minutes before ramping up the pressure yet again.

    As he questioned their friendship and when hest saw her, he ced Irene''s picture between his fingers. For a second, William turned his head a tad bit faster than his demeanor allowed him and looked at it intently. He then turned back to look at the detective again.

    Suddenly the detective picked up his phone and started to talk into it.

    "What is he doing?" I asked in confusion.

    "People don''t take calls during an interview, but when they do, it''s to give the suspect a sense of doom. The phone call subliminally trantes to important new information that could reveal what they had done. Why else would the detective have their cell phone on? He was expecting more information." Sebastian whispered.

    When the detective put the phone back into his pocket, he turned to William with a stoic expression. <em>"Just tell me what happened, kid."</em>

    <em>"I don''t know,"</em> his voice was small but still monotonous.

    <em>"Where is she? I am asking for your help."</em> There was no sign of pleading in the detective''s voice, unlike the previous interrogation they had watched. I took note of it and paused the video for a second. Sebastian turned to me curiously.

    "I see the differences in the style of the interrogation but I feel like this is not the method that needs to be taken with this guy. At least the way it is being implemented is not correct. The detective doesn''t sound invested in his emotions. He sounds almost patronizing. Is this a tactic that he is using? Is it saying that I have power over you and I know, you just need to confess, but I will act like I care about you..." The words flew out of my mouth as I analyzed and mulled over the technique.

    "While patronizing the suspect is a tactic used, it is not highly approved of. I know of many cases where it would work, especially with people who have issues with feeling excessive guilt, have inferiorityplexes, or even excessive superiorityplexes. Someone who is too sure of their ways needs to be shown their ce and told who holds the power in that room. Your gut feeling is right in thinking that this technique is not working in this situation. I don''t want to spoil it for you, but it would be good if you take notes and tell me where they failed, exactly." His exnation made sense, and I made a mental note to ask him to refer me to books and videos where I could see it in action.

    <em>"Can you help me?"</em>

    <em>"I don''t know."</em>

    <em>"What do you mean you don''t know?"</em> the detective asked. <em>"You don''t know if you can help a friend out?"</em> My lips tugged into a frown. For a second I thought he was talking about himself and wondered why he would say he was William''s friend. My mind wandered into the possibilities of why he would say it when I realized that he was talking about Irene. William said he was Irene''s friend. I wanted to p myself on the head for being stupid.

 Chapter 83: Going In Guns Blazing

    Chapter 83: Going In Guns zing

    <em>"Do you even care that your friend is dead?"</em> he asked. He had calmed down, but the condescension in his tone was yet to be gone.

    <em>"Yes."</em>

    <em>"You don''t sound like you are."</em> For a couple of seconds, they stared at each other. I could see the dip of the detective''s head and his gaze fell to the table. I sighed.

    He had lost eye-contact again. William was still looking at him while he had broken contact. He had given William the ego-boost that he needed to increase his psychological run. He wouldn''t exhaust himself any time soon.

    The questions turned to things the police had found in his apartment.

    <em>"What about the pair of women''s underwear in your apartment that was cut out like a mask?"</em>

    What? I paused and had to think about this for a second. Who''s underwear was it? If it was Irene, the maximum they could pin on him was stealing underwear and trespassing. It didn''t prove that she was murdered by William.

    <em>"No."</em>

    The conversation continued but my head was stuck at the underwear. It was not easy to catch me off guard, but this certainly did.

    "Whose underwear was it?" I asked, turning to him as the detective remained silent, thinking about the next question.

    "Irene''s," he said without much hint of emotion.

    "He took the time to steal her underwear after disposing her body and then cut it up to make a makeshift mask?"

    "Yeah, while I have never personally spoken to him, I think he was trying to live out his fantasy again in this way. The act of cutting up her underwear was another attack on her being, as such. I know it''s a long stretch but sometimes, the fantasy world that stalkers inhabit doesn''t make much sense to those who haven''t ventured into it," he exined. I thought for a minute.

    "I would also think that everyone''s psychosis is different and the same symptoms manifest differently." He nodded.

    "True." I turned back to the screen and continued to watch.

    <em>"Earlier today when you sat there and spoke to me, you were fine. Now you are acting like you don''t know what is going on."</em> There was a pause as the suspect kept staring nkly at the detective. "<em>Did something happen that you would like to tell me? Why are you shutting down?"</em>

    <em>"Are you scared?"</em>

    <em>"No."</em>

    <em>"You are not scared, are you?"</em> William''s demeanor doesn''t waver the first twenty minutes, so the detectives took an aggressive approach. He attacked the subject''s character to coax the suspect out of his act and try to defend his dignity.

    <em>"Of course. You know everything, but you are a sorry piece of shit that doesn''t give a fuck. Right?"</em> What in the name... Was this considered professional? I remembered Sebastian saying that interrogators need to hide their true feelings. This seemed like a gross misdemeanor.

    <em>"No."</em> The tone sounded almost like a taunt, slightly different from the monotonous performance he had been giving.

    <em>"You sure sounded confident this morning when you were talking to us. Now you have to tell me the truth."</em> There wasn''t footage from that conversation, so I had to trust the detective on his word.

    <em>"I don''t know where she is."</em>

    <em>"What you are doing right now isn''t going to work with me. So, you need to snap out of it and tell me."</em> And therefore, the detective broke down. All his attempts to make him speak the truth had been thwarted. He had somehow acknowledged that William was having a psychological break. This could be disastrous in court even if Williams ended up confessing to his crime. He could just say that the police had coerced him into a confession when he was not sound of mind.

    The detective went out. Whether it was nned or not, another detective entered the room with simr aggressive behavior. Report development was thrown out of the window from the very beginning. There was no point to this change apart from psychologically nursing the previous detective. It seemed that the interrogation had taken a worse toll on him than the suspect.

    What an irony.

    The interrogation continued and I grew more agitated. The method wasn''t working and the detectives couldn''t really get a grasp of his performance or how to break it.

    They tried to get him to say that he was attracted to her. And he kept acting bewildered. It was frankly frustrating to watch. I knew that these detectives probably weren''t sexist or engaging in locker room talk, but the tone they took to coax him to admit that he found women attractive, wanting to ''bang'' the victim and watch pornography.

    "Your anger is justified," Sebastian told me when he saw me gritting my teeth. "Usually, detectives don''t use this tactic, I am using this interrogation as an example for you to understand what not to do when you are in front of the suspect. Lead them, make them feelfortable, maybe even make them feel guilt. Get a grasp of their personality and their personal and professional background before you go in and use any one particr method."

    "In my opinion, they started in an aggressive tone, making it impossible for them to turn back or increase the psychological pressureter on. In this state, he got desensitized to the questions and didn''t feel the need to defend himself. As you said personal and professional background is also important. While assumptions can lead you a long way, stretching the narrative and guessing blindly will get you in trouble. Here the detective says that they found blood in his apartment, and he looks unaffected. I would think that they found nothing of the sort and the crime scene was Irene''s apartment, making it impossible for them to find anything in his apartment except for memorabilia. Furthermore, he was studying to be a criminalwyer, you would think the detectives would take that into ount and not try to teach him what could happen to him. He already knows the stakes, exaggerating it to him is of no use whatsoever." I analyzed it carefully.

 Chapter 84: Jeopardize the Situation

    Chapter 84: Jeopardize the Situation

    You''re right on point. Now, this is the insight I need from you. You are catching along well. Keep note of these things. I want you in the interrogation room with me the next time I get a chance and I want you to signal which direction you want to take the interrogation." He seemed confident that I would make it, I was almost surprised.

    "You''d take me?" I asked in a stunned voice.

    "Of course, we would need to decide on how tomunicate before that happens."

    "Aren''t you scared I will make a mistake and jeopardize the situation?" I asked. I didn''t want to question his confidence in me, but the pressure would be overwhelming if I was asked to make someone confess but wasn''t able to.

    "You have a natural affinity withnguage and persuading others. I have full faith in you." He paused. "Furthermore, if I let Jamison interrogate people, I don''t see why I wouldn''t let you someone who is far superior to him in every way, do the same."

    In short, he thought the world of me. I looked at him for a moment before going to the whiteboard.

    "Anyway, what happened to William?" I asked. If the first one had set any precedent, this perpetrator had not been jailed, either.

    "They couldn''t take out a word about where her body was or if he was the killer. They could only pin trespassing on his name but without a victim, it was pretty bleak." Sebastian frowned. "They did go to court with all the physical evidence but the judges deemed the evidence insufficient to prosecute."

    "There must have been other charges, right?" My voice was almost pleading.

    "No, thewyer deemed him temporarily insane and they were forced to give him counseling sessions. He acted perfectly in front of the psychiatrist and he went scot-free."

    My head was starting to hurt.

    "Don''t tell me he went back tow school and became awyer." Sebastian nodded. He didn''t need to say any further. "Okay, I don''t want to talk to this anymore. Do we have any information on the third victim as of yet?" I asked.

    "No. We haven''t dug out anything. Let''s go over your theories now." Sebastianmanded.

    "So, we have somemon factors that tie the two together. The first two victims both sexually assaulted and murdered their victims. They also escaped any punishment. Apart from this, there are no other simrities between the two." I scribbled on the whiteboard and jotted down the points.

    "The third victim ispletely unrted. Following his trend, there are three possibilities in this situation." He stared at me. I sighed and looked at the board. He had already figured out the reason, but of course, I would have to deduct it for myself.

    "One, he wanted to be performative about it. From the previous crime scenes, we can see that he is fascinated by the performative nature of the killing. He chooses locations where there will be lots of people and he has maximum exposure. While he went to parks and public ces for performances for the first two kills, the third one had to be big. He was simply not getting enough exposure. By killing in front of this huge audience, he has brought fear into the hearts of the people. He is now notorious, everyone is curious about it. Knowing how our world includes serial killers into popr culture, glorifying them into monsters, he probably would enjoy that sort of name for himself." I stopped and looked at him for approval. His palm was on his chin and he was stroking it softly.

    "Continue," Sebastian urged.

    "The second possibility is that the magician is a sex offender who got away with his crime and we just haven''t discovered it yet. The third victim moves across countries, so the range of targets is broad. We will have to do considerable research to figure out if this could be the case." I quickly wrote the possibility down.

    "And the third?" Sebastian asked, looking at me hopefully. After thinking for a moment, I drew a nk.

    "I don''t know." He leaned in and swept the marker from my fingers. Taking it, he quickly added a plus between the two possibilities. "You think he is acting as a vignte and wants to show off his work to the world?" Sebastian tipped his head in acknowledgment.

    "But all of this is a hypothesis. We need to find concrete proof before we can paint a picture of the psyche of the criminal. Our first course of action should be to inform the cops and get them to find out if the third victim was an offender or not."

    I plopped down on the couch and leaned back.

    "Tired?" he asked, looking at me curiously.

    "You told me that we were going to watch something fun and made me watch criminals deny their crimes for two and a half hours," I found myself ring at him.

    "This is my idea of fun, actually. I''ll have to condition you to think the same," he said with a crooked smile. I felt the intense need to roll my eyes but stopped myself.

    "If you aren''t careful, I will think you are trying to make me a replica of you."

    "I have a feeling of deja vu. I don''t care for replicas. I would be happy if you were recognized by your own name, Evie. I want to see you at the top because you made a name for yourself and not because you tried to be me." He sounded so strong in his words like he was somewhat offended that I could be his shadow.

    "Did someone try to copy you?" I asked, finding myself beyond curious.

    He frowned. "I had a student who thought herself brilliant and wished to be like me. She tried so hard that it got a little creepy." I raised my brow in surprise. Criminal psychology students indulging in such behavior, how fascinating when they be the subject of their own study.

    "Where is she now?"

 Chapter 85: Foolishly Hoping

    Chapter 85: Foolishly Hoping

    "She got a new target and left school. Don''t know where she went," he shrugged. That was it? That was the end of the story? "What, did you expect some form of passionate confession or her stalking me? It didn''t go that far because I grabbed the opportunity and made her go away." He rolled his eyes.

    "Obsession is aplex thing. You never know." I shrugged. "You make it sound like you killed her and buried her." I had tough.

    "Well, most people would think the same. But there is nothing called a perfect crime. Even I couldn''t pull it off. Someone or the other would find out how everything happened and I wouldn''t be free. I don''t have those instincts."

    "Yes, you''re above human instincts and too pretty for jail. Got it." He shook his head and smiled as he watched meugh to my heart''s content.

    "It''s clearly getting toote for you to think clearly." He shook his head. "You should go to sleep soon," he looked down at his watch. "If you start now, your ritual will be over in time for you to sleep."

    "So this is why you made me watch these videos?" I asked, amused.

    "Why would you think that? This is a high priority case. Of course, you need to be in the loop. I''m just here in time to monitor you." What a straight reply.

    "Well, we''ve finished watching the videos so you can go home," I admonished.

    Sebastian''s mouth slung down in a frown."Isn''t it more productive if I stay? Dr Knight asked someone to apany you and you don''t know anyone else from me. Moreover, I already brought Sheng Sheng over and she is asleep." He pointed towards his cat.

    Knowing that it was a lost cause, I shook my head. "You as you will." I got up from the ground and sauntered towards my bedroom. Picking out the clothes I wanted, I ced them in the bathroom.

    "Make sure to take a proper cold shower! Your body temperature needs to be low to facilitate better sleep!"

    What a nag.

    I showered slowly and remembered to towel my body dry. It was getting chillier outside and I didn''t want to catch a cold. I put on my night clothes, very different from my usual clothes and walked out with the towel in my hair.

    Sebastian peered at me curiously and then stood stumped.

    "This is not what you wear usually," he protested. I was wearing a tank top and really short shorts.

    "This is what I usually wear to bed. If it''s too scandalous for you, it can''t be helped. I feelfortable in this." Sebastian sighed in resignation.

    "Well, yourfort is important."

    "Did you bring any clothes that you want to change into?" I asked. He wasn''t wearing clothes fit to sleep in.

    "I''ll just wear this," he said as he looked down at his clothes.

    "That won''t do. You''ll make me ufortable." I walked over to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of pajamas I had bought and never worn because they were too big on me. It would be Sebastian''s size.

    I handed it to him and he squinted. "This is not your size," hemented. I rolled my eyes.

    "Yes, it''s for you. Go." I wanted to push him but he remained rooted to his spot.

    "Do you bring people over to your ce? That is not safe!" I didn''t need to exin.

    "I''ll eventually bring people over, so why not start now." The horror on his face was amusing to say the least. I motioned him forward and he moved with much protest. When he came out, I had to chuckle.

    The pink color and cherry prints brought out his features. He looked unbothered by his feminine clothes. Someone unconcerned with sociological pressures could do a lot of things without thinking. But he seemed to be in a better mood.

    "So you''ll be bringing girls over," he said with a smile.

    "And what makes you think that?" I asked. He pulled at the hem of the clothes in answer.

    "No other man would wear this because it would hurt their fragile masculinity." He shrugged.

    "You''re so severe on your own sex." I chuckled.

    He shrugged. "Well, it''s herd psychology. I am not being prejudiced here."

    "Well, I need to prepare to sleep, so." She shooed him away. I went about my skincare routine, something I had started seriously recently. He watched in rapt attention.

    He walked over to me once I was done and picked me up by the shoulders. He pulled me towards the bed and pushed me down. It took him a couple of minutes to tuck me into bed and then went towards the light switches to figure out how dark the room needed to be.

    After switching on a blue nightlight, he settled in beside me. His phone was nearby, so he opened an application and soon a podcast came on. It was a woman with a beautiful voice talking about literature and ying songs.

    I turned to look at his face. He was staring at the ceiling, not moving from his mummy-like position. In the dimness of the room, I found my heart starting to pound. I couldn''t think about the man whoy beside me because the monsters were finallying out. They seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting for him to fall asleep before they crept out and swallowed me.

    Sebastian fell asleep shortly after the podcast ended, leaving me in the room... alone and awake. His steady breathing was overshadowed by the faint shuffling of feet in the distance and the darkness moving before my eyes. I screwed my eyes shut and counted sheep to hopefully fall asleep but it didn''t help.

    I heard a breathing close to my ear and my eyes flew open. There was no one there. When I looked in the distance, I saw a shadow lurking near the door, it''s form reaching over the door and hunching down as if looking at me. I tried my best to stop breathing, foolishly hoping that it would think I was asleep and not hurt me.

 Chapter 86: Lucid Dreams and Paralysis

    Chapter 86: Lucid Dreams and Paralysis

    I slid my hand out of the cover and inched towards Sebastian, hoping to wake him up.

    ''Save me,'' I screamed in my head.

    I poked his arm several times, hoping to catch his attention. He didn''t wake up. My eyes never left the figure at the door, staring at it intently as I tried to shake Sebastian awake.

    I gave up pretty quickly, resorting to pulling the cover over my head and remaining under the covers until I felt the heat ovee me. Something dipped down on the bed near my feet and I froze. If I could stop breathing, I would. If I could rip the covers off and face the shadow at the bed, I would. But I was too scared.

    For someone who was not easily scared, my demons gripped me with fear so acute that it paralyzed me. It hovered over me, breathing down on me. I felt a sob rip through me and I shuddered as I tried to figure out what to do.

    I had only one option, wait until the sun rose and this thing disappeared. It felt like a lifetime before I felt Sebastian stirring beside me. He jumped into action, ripping the cover off me. I could see his face hovering over mine, illuminated by the dim light.

    "Evie," he whispered, his cold hands touching the skin of my face. Electrified, I stared at him, unable to move. He saw something in my eyes that moved him. His touch became softer and his voice smoother.

    "Listen to me. You''re trapped in your body. Slowly breathe ording to my instruction." I followed blindly, my eyes locked on his lips, my ears only for his voice. As I breathed, I felt the panic recede. The tears still poured out but my heart felt lighter. His hand was on my neck, pressed against my jugr as he took my pulse. Once he was satisfied with my heart rate, he started another set of instructions.

    "Focus on the tip of your toes. Now, slowly try to move it." He waited, his eyes flickering to my toes. "Very good, now let the feeling of controlling your body and being able to move it slowly rise up your legs." His voice was soothing and his words easy to follow.

    I don''t know how long it took but finally, I escaped the prison I never knew I was in.

    I gasped when I felt my voice return.

    "You''re okay, Evie," he reassured me.

    "I called you. I shook you. You didn''t wake up." His eyes stiffened slightly and he nodded, the emotion leaving instantly before I could understand what he was thinking.

    "I''m sorry, Evie. I''ll exin everything to you once you calm down." It took a while but I nodded. He slid his hand under my neck and pulled me up gently, making me sit up. Next, he moved out of the bed and took my hand into his.

    "Come," he ordered in the gentlest way possible. He sat me down in the living room and he disappeared into the kitchen. I realized btedly that he had switched on all the lights in the apartment. Not a single corner was shrouded in darkness. I gave a small smile and waited for him to return. From where I stood, I could see his back as he prepared something on the stove.

    He returned with a clear ss filled with warm milk. As I pressed my palms to surround it, I felt my body be warm.

    "Sip on it slowly and tell me what you saw." I nodded. I took a small sip, testing the temperature. When I was satisfied, I took a bigger sip.

    "I saw a tall man at the door, shrouded in darkness," I admitted, embarrassed.

    "Don''t be embarrassed," he assured. "Tell me more. How did he look? Have you seen him before?"

    "I have," I nodded. I gave him the distinguishing features and Sebastian grimaced. "What is wrong with me?"

    "Do you want to purify your home? We could call a priest or something..." he asked nervously, his eyes flickering to her face.

    "I know you don''t believe in the supernatural. Neither do I. Tell me what I am seeing. I need the science behind it." I urged him to reveal the truth.

    He sighed. "This figure is a recurring theme in a lot of studies. A lot of people across the globe have imed to see this man in windows and doors, lurking in the shadows. Despite studies, we don''t have a conclusive answer why it is this figure that people see, but it can be said that the mysterious background and nature of the brain making anthropomorphic images out of shadows has led to the creation of this figure in the collective consciousness." He paused to check her reaction. "Your brain is powerful, Evie, and it tries to make out things you can make sense out of in the darkness. Because of your hypervignce, you expect to see something in the shadows, and therefore see something in the shadows when the lights turn off."

    "Then why did I start seeing it only after you fell asleep?" I asked, utterly confused.

    "Because when I was beside you, you had a sense offort. When I fell asleep, you felt alone and vulnerable and your brain used that fear to conjure up the image. Your body fell asleep, Evie, but your eyes were still open. You were lucid dreaming and had a case of sleep paralysis along with it."

    "Is that normal?" Sebastian nodded vehemently.

    "It is verymon. Remember what I taught you. Remember that you were not able to move and when you thought you called me, you actually didn''t. I will wake up when I think something is wrong with you, Evie. When I felt your sob, I woke up instantly. I am a light sleeper and I can take care of you." He stroked her head in reassurance.

    "Will this never go away?" My voice was small and full of fear.

    "You''ve lived with this for six years, Evie. Now that you are talking about it, Dr. Knight and I will help you. The routine given to you was to regte your body. It''s your first day, so your body is not used to the ritual. It fell asleep without your brain realizing that it was time to shut off as well. Once they get into sync, you''ll be able to fall asleep."

    I drank the ss of milk and scrubbed my face.

    "I need to write this down, right?" Sebastian nodded.

    "Don''t spare any details. We''ll continue tracking your sleep and dreams for the next couple of months until you can sleeppletely. After that, I can move out of your bed and sleep in the living room. Slowly wean you off," he offered.

    "You''re doing too much for me."

    "Do you want to repay me for it?" he asked with a sly smile.

    "No. I don''t owe you for it. You denied me when I asked you and then slid into my apartment of your own ord. That means you are injecting yourself in my life without prompting, so I won''t be grateful to you and offer repayment." I smiled, not giving him the chance to act narcissistically.

    "Well, I was going to ask you to work harder," he shrugged.

    "I''m dedicated. You don''t need to be a ve driver," I retorted. "Also, I believe in working smarter, not harder."

    "As expected from my assistant. I chose well." I was sure there was no way to reduce his love for himself. It was impossible. But I had to admit, it was one of his charming qualities. He couldn''t stop at being proud of himself, he had to include her in the mix, as well. Truly an interesting way of viewing people.

    "Should we go back to sleep?" I asked. The curtains were drawn so I didn''t know the time.

    "No need," he flicked his wrist to reveal his watch. "It''s dawn. You didn''t realize how much time passed." He gave her a warm smile. "I''ll make us some breakfast and then we can head to the police station to get more information on the Magician case, okay?"

    "You''re cooking?" I was beyond surprised. After we shifted, he hadn''t cooked. He had fully used her mediocre cooking techniques and benefitted.

    "Yes," he answered. He walked to the kitchen and put on the apron. Very cute, I thought to myself. "You''ve already had the milk, so I will make something nutritious for you." He got busy in the kitchen and I went back to the bedroom to make the bed.

    Once, everything was settled, I came out and sat down to have breakfast. We ate silently and I basked in how delicious the food tasted. It was indeed better than mine. I quickly realized that my praise and respect for his superiority had fed his narcissism. But also, I couldn''t not respect him for hispetence.

    Even Sheng Sheng had a ce beside their feed, licking at the milk in the small bowl.

    "Prepare the psychological profile along the lines of what we discussed yesterday. I''ll add in some things and present them to the police force. With the behavioral studies department with us, it should be a great experience. We canpare notes."

    I nodded. I recalled the conversation and made notes on what I would need to add.

    "I''ll show you a draft before the presentation," I told him.

    "No need. I trust you." The rest of the meal continued in silence, yet again.

 Chapter 87: Another Distinguishing Factor

    Chapter 87: Another Distinguishing Factor

    On the way to the police station, I typed out the presentation precisely. The notebook was open to my notes and I created a bit more details, including simrities in the two victims. I asked him for more information on the profile of the suspect and made note of that as well.

    When they reached, the police station was mostly empty. She looked around and saw people filtering into the conference room.

    Detective Nash was already briefing members of the force on the progress. They were searching for builders of the torture devices at the moment.

    "We found specialty makers, but there are only two in the country. Apart from that, we have been talking to customs and ports about iing materials of this nature. These were made from scratch and the work is excellent, so they were not assembled after bringing it into the country or after buying. This means that the perpetrator bought it and transported the devices as they were."

    Considering that the devices were huge, it would be difficult to transport these inconspicuously. I leaned towards Sebastian, who was sitting beside me and spoke softly. "Why aren''t we considering the perpetrator to be the one who made those devices?"

    "ording to behavioral studies, people who make showmanship out of their performance usually don''t like to put effort into it. They want to show off, but they don''t have much to show people. Otherwise, they wouldn''t be acting that way," Sebastian exined.

    "But you seem to forget. He is not just an exhibitionist. In this case, he is giving out punishment to people. The methods aren''t original either. He is putting in the effort to make it look like he is doing a lot but instead he is just replicating what others have done before him. In that way, if he is indeed someone with an inferiorityplex, he could make it himself."

    Sebastian thought about it himself. "I didn''t think of that, good job." He raised his hand. Detective Nash raised his brow and motioned him to speak.

    "Evie has to say something," he said with a sly smile. Detective Nash rolled his eyes and asked me to speak. I told him exactly what I had reiterated to Sebastian.

    "Good thinking. What do you think this man''s upation will be then?" he asked, testing me.

    I had seen the pictures of the devices up close. It was someone with intimate knowledge of metalwork. "It''s heavy-duty metalwork, definitely so I would rule out people who make metal jewelry and other such objects. The tools will be very different as will the raw materials. However... someone who makes bigger pieces and knows how to wield and mold them would also have the equipment and materials..." But I didn''t know what the profession could be.

    Everyone drew up a nk.

    "Another distinguishing factor would be his involvement in a sexual assault case. He is passionate about dolling out the punishment. Someone he knows might have been a victim or perpetrator," Sebastian added from the side.

    "Right!" Detective Nash spoke out. "Ourst victim was suspected of raping and murdering an air hostess two years ago but got away due tock of evidence. We are sure that he was the perpetrator."

    Therefore the modus operandi was established.

    "ording to this, we will be narrowing down the search. The third victim was constantly traveling, so tracing his footsteps and finding the people who weremonly seen would be good. Considering that all these people are originally from this city, there has to be a connection between all the victims."

    The meeting was concluded just like that, leaving me with more questions than I hade with.

    Just like this, days passed and there were no real leads in the case. I was growing hopeless with each passing day. Calcting the time between the three crimes, the perpetrators might act within another week.

    In the middle of the night, the phone rang. I was in the middle of falling asleep when the phone rang and left me sleepless.

    "They had found a few suspects that fit the bill. But nothing conclusive can be drawn from any of this." Sebastian told her.

    "Did they bring him in for questioning?" I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

    "No. They are going to his house to bring him in for questioning." I checked the watch. It was six in the morning.

    "Is this a good time to bring him in?" I asked.

    "They''ll wait outside his house and tail him for a couple of hours. He had closed his shop for the past two weeks and followed the third victim around at that time. They found hotel and ne booking records to prove it. They even had footage of someone following the victim."

    "Will they be able to pin it on him, though?" Sebastian shook his head.

    "If we show simrities between his stature with the person following the victim, we could use it to make him feel endangered. It doesn''t have to be conclusive evidence as long as we make it out to be to him."

    We changed and went to the car quickly without grabbing any breakfast.

    "You''re going into the interrogation today, you know that, right?" Sebastian spoke up suddenly.

    "But Detective Nash will be interrogating the suspect, won''t he?" I asked, confused. "I would be a bother if I enter the interrogation room without any prior experience. I can trust you to hold the interaction up, but I have never worked with Detective Nash."

    Sebastian chuckled. "He knows that you''re my favorite pupil. He''s an excellent detective and knows how to handle tense situations. I''ll talk to him about the exercise."

    "Don''t!" I protested. "I really don''t..." I sighed.

    "Okay, you don''t have to go in. You can watch from outside," he conceded.

    "You aren''t someone who likes to give up so easily. You must have an alternate n," I asked. My suspicion was rising. "There is definitely something about this guy that will make me walk into that interrogation room and talk to him. What is it?" I crossed my hands over my chest and waited for him to say.

    "You were spot on about everything about the man. You did a marvelous job. What are you going to do, sitting outside and letting someone else take the credit?" he scoffed.

    "The police did most of the job. I just watched and gave my amateur opinion," I shrugged.

    "And it was your ''amateur'' opinion that actually helped them get the police. You were a step before me, even. I''m very proud of you." He smiled, his eyes still on the road.

    "But why do you want me to go in? You''re talking in circles. It is very unlike you." And a bit maniptive, if I admitted it myself.

    "I know what you are thinking. It''s just in my personality," he told me quickly.

    "If you know what I am thinking, why aren''t you telling me the right answer?" I asked, slightly offended.

    "Well. You''ll get a new perspective on the mind of a criminal." He paused. "Remember, you told me that you were worried. I know that you are worried about bing the person who inflicts pain on others. You keep referring to theory and it keeps bothering me. I can''t talk you out of your thoughts, I don''t have the training to do so, and I know Dr. Knight will show you a way toe to terms with yourself and your nature. But in this case, I can offer you this case to show you that it is possible for you to not be what you fear."

    I didn''t think I had ever heard him say so much to him. Recently, he spoke a lot. He filled up the silence and my doubts with warm words and analytical lectures on life. I felt slightly good about all of it.

    "Lay it on me, what is this guy about?"

    "I''ll tell you this much... He customizes cars. All three victims were his clients at some point of time. And he was close to a victim who was raped and murdered."

    I took in that information.

    "What else?" I asked vehemently. "He went to the same high school as the victim and he was on the location of the crime." The car stopped in front of the station and I sat silently.

    It could mean one of two things.

    He was abused and powerless in the situation and had to watch someone he knew undergo such brutal treatment... or he was the perpetrator.

    Now the question remained, which one was he?

    If it was the first, I would understand the emotions he felt for people whomitted those crimes. But if it was thetter, I had no clue what he was thinking when killing people who hadmitted the same crime as him.

    "You seem to know which one it is," Sebastian said knowingly. His hand rested on the steering wheel and he waited for me toe to the decision.

    "I seem to know what your reason is." I sucked in a deep breath and took thest step. "If you can convince Detective Nash to let me into the room and watch it up close, I''ll go in," I promised.

    "That won''t be a problem," he grinned victoriously. "You made the right choice."

    "You''re too confident in yourself," I groaned.

    "I am only confident about the things I can do. I know my limitations. I don''t go beyond it," he said seriously. "I know a lot of people think I am arrogant without having the qualification..."

    "But you have the qualification..." I trailed off. Which was why it wasn''t too irritating.

    "Thank you." He murmured. "Only you understand me."

    Well, wouldn''t that be wonderful...

 Chapter 88: Open-Ended Question

    Chapter 88: Open-Ended Question

    We walked back in and were met with Detective Nash. He was leaning against the wall and only looked up when he heard us approaching.

    "Sebastian," he called. "I need to show you some case files on this guy." We hurried behind him and he led us into a small office.

    "You even have an office?" Sebastian asked, looking impressed.

    "I share it with another person," Detective Nash replied, throwing a nce at the other desk in the room. "Here is the file," he shuffled over his desk and found it.

    "Why are you still so unorganized?" Sebastian asked, his brow scrunched up. He peered at the empty cup of coffee that had been left for at least a day on the desk and shook his head in disgust.

    "It is all in order, okay? You can''t see it, but there is a pattern to this madness," he told us. Sebastian handed me the files and motioned me to go over it. I read through it and passed it to him.

    "He was one of the four high school boys who gang-raped a female ssmate. The case never made it to court because two of the other boys had powerful parents. It was swept under the rug." I mulled over it. "There are multiple possibilities," I mumbled.

    "What do you think they are?" Sebastian asked. I saw him hold up a hand to stop Detective Nash from speaking. I gave him a small smile as I started to speak.

    "He was not an active member in the rape and just stood around watching them rape and kill her. He considered himself weak and unable to stop it from happening, so he is taking it out on others now that he has the power to doll out justice."

    I looked at the two men in approval. "That could be a possibility," Detective Nash said in a contemtive tone. "It''s like in the group of bullies, it is one or two people who do the actual bullying while the other just stand around and watch it happen. With those other two having powerful parents, it must have made him feel inferior in the group. He might have felt invisible and unable to do anything, so he is expressing exhibitionism in his method of killing."

    "Makes sense," Sebastianmented decisively. "What about the other options?"

    I chuckled. "He was part of the group, he took part in it but feels an extreme level of guilt and is punishing others of the same crime that he wasn''t punished for. He''s too much of a coward to punish himself, so he, by punishing others, is recovering from his guilt." What a joke.

    "We can''t ascertain which it is because the case files were not avable. The evidence is confidential and we couldn''t ess it." Detective Nash wanted to throw something.

    "Now, during the interrogation, we will have to find out which one it is by talking to him about it," Sebastian nced at me. I gave him a pointed look. "Nash, what do you think about giving my assistant a crash course on interrogation?" he asked, shing the brightest smile I had seen on his face.

    The boyish look had me stunned. I couldn''t speak for a moment.

    Detective Nash turned to appraise me. "What do you think?" he asked.

    "I have great trantion skills and can handle tense situations. I won''t let you down." I bowed, hoping this would be enough.

    "You don''t need to convince me. I''ll let you in. Sebastian asked me for a favor, how can I say no?" he, too, grinned mischievously. "I''ll trust his judgment."

    I kept my head down, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

    "Let''s go over our strategy and signals so that we can coordinate effortlessly in the conversation," I said firmly.

    "Oh! You know coborative interrogation technique!" Detective Nash eximed.

    "I did my research over the past couple of days because Sebastian informed me that he would bring me into an interrogation if the situation arose." Always better to be prepared.

    "Quite the girl scout, aren''t you?" he joked. Over the next few hours, we tracked down the reactions we were looking for and how we''re going tomunicate.

    "You are familiar with the branched behavioral response, right?" Detective Nash asked suddenly.

    "Yes, multiple possibilities and reactions to them. It''s what my mind goes to effectively."

    And therefore, the time hade. Dean Stanley had arrived and he was waiting in the interrogation room. He had been offered a cup of coffee as per his preference and he was leisurely sipping on it. The police officers who had gone to his home had only summoned him and asked him toe at his own leisure.

    Detective Nash had been right to think that he would jump at the opportunity and follow the police immediately. He wanted to see what effect the murders had on people, he wanted to show off that they couldn''t catch him.

    Therefore, his unbothered attitude was as we anticipated.

    "As a female, I can pull the weaker card,ck of rationality, and empathizing with the perpetrator because I know how sexual violence feels. He''ll put his guard down and reveal some of his thoughts. We can use that to broach the topic of the previous case, what do you think?" I asked right before we entered.

    "Excellent idea," he grinned and patted me on the back.

    "I''ll be in the other room, watching the interrogation live. Don''t be nervous. You''re going to kill it!" Sebastian encouraged.

    "That''s not the right expression in this case," I grumbled before shooing him away and entering the interrogation room.

    Dean Stanley passively nced at us when we entered. I gave him a small smile, cing myself as the nicer and emotional interrogator as I sat across from him. The room wasn''t too big, so, with three people, it was a little crowded.

    "Hey, I am Detective Nash and she is Detective Lewis," he said. I kept my face neutral. Detective Nash closed the door and finally sat down. "Detective Lewis was interviewing some of the other people who the victimst spoke to, so she joined in on the conversation."

    "Do you mind if I go to the washroom?" he asked, shifting in his chair. I sent him a passing nce and saw a sliver of nervousness in it. Sitting in this silent room for ny minutes would be monotonous. He must have been thinking about a thousand things and why he was called. The door opening should have been a relief to him. But now that there were two detectives in ce of one, he would be on guard.

    Detective Nash controlled the situation beautifully. "Sure sure. Please go ahead. This is standard procedure. You don''t need to stand on ceremony because of it," he said casually, his voice going a little higher, imitating a friendly neighbor who was giving you sugar and not the hardened detective that he was.

    Detective Nash followed him out, giving me a pointed look over my shoulder. I quickly pulled out my phone and started scrolling through it, going along long enough to see him return and catch me scrolling through my phone at work.

    This, we had nned beforehand so that we could diminish how important the interrogation was. This way his guard would be down because he would think himself imprable. He would believe that this was the procedure and that the police didn''t suspect him, so they were letting him do all of these and actually rxing on the job.

    I looked up when they came in but kept looking at my phone. Detective Nash went out for a couple of minutes, leaving the door open. There was no one in the corridor, so Dean could see out. Detective Nash even handed out a bottle of water to him.

    Detective Nash put on his sses and pulled out a piece of paper so that he could start writing. I, on the other hand, put down my phone and started to look at the piece of paper in front of me.

    "We are just lining up witnesses who would have seen the victim so that we can pinpoint when he was taken. Okay?" Detective Nash said in a friendly voice.

    "Okay," Dean replied with a nod of his head. Double affirmation, I noted in my head. He was over-exaggerating his motions and words topensate and look sincere in this situation. We went over his personal information and if he had taken any alcohol or drugs that day or thest.

    This was to clear out any chance that he could say that it was a false statementter on.

    We were covering all our bases.

    "I just had some meds for my headache, nothing else today," he informed us.

    "So, you knew him from work?" Detective Nash asked finally.

    The question was open-ended, giving Dean the opportunity to say whatever he wanted as he wanted. It is believed that people who have nothing to hide give short responses to such questions, whereas people who are hiding the truth or their intentions talk in circles topensate for the truth that they cannot say.

    If Dean was not concerned about his answer or not guilty, he would answer in a short few sentences. ''I know him from work. He came to my shop to customize his car. We''ve known each other for x amount of time.'' Simple.

    But Dean went into a long answer. This was because he was seeking approval. Guilty suspects will see the interrogator as an imminent threat and will attempt to appease this threat from further aggression. Someone who was not guilty would see the interrogator as a mere inconvenience.

 Chapter 89: Self-Inflicted Wounds

    Chapter 89: Self-Inflicted Wounds

    He went on to exin how the victim hade into his shop. Everything seemed so long drawn that he didn''t mention anything specific apart from him knowing the man. No signs of obsession with him or anything. What I couldn''t figure out was how Dean found out about the crimes of these people. All police records of the victim were confidential, not something he could find out. Did he get so close to the victims that they told him what they had done? That was highly improbable.

    As the speech continued, I could see that he was still talking but he remained confident. Subconsciously he was scared though.

    "So that was thest time you had contact with him, right?" Detective Nash asked quickly. "I''m sorry, I''m not putting words in your mouth. I just want to confirm." He gave a reassuring smile.

    "Oh, no bother..." he trailed off, waving off the question. "Yes, that was thest time I saw him. He came into the shop to get his car touched up." And that was around three weeks ago. A week before Dean closed his shop and started to follow victim three around.

    "So you didn''t text or call him, nothing," Detective Nash pressed.

    "Yes, yes. Nothing of that sort." He shifted in his seat. His eyes were solely focused on Detective Nash. He didn''t even turn to look at me as if treating me like thin air.

    "I did see him on the road once while I was on vacation, though. Didn''t speak to him or anything," he admitted finally after a bit of thought.

    Dean didn''t know the extent of the evidence, but he did know that the investigators have some information, which was why he was being questioned. He had no choice but to amend his alibi to some degree to give him leeway. This allowed us to get one step closer to the confession.

    We could keep the evidence against him hidden for longer and keep it for a more critical moment to have the final impact.

    "Oh, you saw him? Where?" Detective Nash pretended to be surprised like this news was new to him. Dean gave a location.

    Nash scratched his chin. "Right, can you tell me how he looked? Maybe that could give us some clue about what he was up to before he went missing."

    "Oh, I didn''t see him for long enough. He was casually walking on the street." He shrugged. "I did know that he was preparing for a show though... he had told me thest time he visited my shop." This was why the location of the show was revealed to him and he could so easily gain control.

    "Right..." He changed the line of questioning. "Can you tell me the details of where you were... something of that sort so that we can find some CCTV footage?"

    Dean quietened, but then he went about the details in hope that if they did find something it would be his advantage. Unfortunately, the words he said could be used to lock him in at ater stage. He had never met him face to face, the encounter hadn''t happened. While he could imagine the police rummaging through footage and finding him at the location, he had missed out on a small detail...

    Because he had followed the victim for so long, he didn''t remember each and every detail.

    Which would be normal. He could just say that he didn''t remember the details, but instead, he went into great detail to make a clear image of the scene. Detective Nash even drew out the scene in front of him to confirm.

    I kept wondering why Detective Nash asked these questions. We already had Dean under control. But when I saw Dean ease into the conversation, I realized why. This line of questioning and sincere listening led to Dean letting his guard down. He thought he was fooling the detectives and that we believed in what he was saying.

    They were simply talking about the particrs when Detective Nash jumped.

    "What happened to your neck?" he asked quickly. Dean went from feeling assured to feeling threatened. The shift from one to the next was so extreme that the suspect became disoriented. I could see that his critical thinking had been hindered.

    He took a couple of seconds to respond.

    "That was self-inflicted, actually." His voice was dull as he didn''t know what emotion to project. He was going to exin when I interjected.

    "To your neck?" I asked casually. The topic of self-harm is taboo, so I showed no particr expression to seem suspicious, just curious. The neck is an unusual ce for a self-inflicted injury. And it looked a little old, too. I said it casually, just giving him a little hint but saving the pressure forter.

    "Yeah," his voice was considerably lower.

    "What did you use?" I remained neutral.

    "A knife?" he seemed unsure.

    "When did you do that?"

    "Uh...st month... I pick at the scabs," he exined quickly, steering away from the real-time of the struggle. I knew scabs that were removed before the skin underneath was fully healed. This was not how it looked. These wounds were fresher and hadn''t been peeled off yet.

    "Don''t peel your scabs. They leave dreadful scars." I ced my hand on the desk, my sleeve riding up enough that he could see the sliver of marks on my hand. He stared dazedly before turning away.

    Dean showed some other wounds, stating they were from the same knife.

    Of course, Detective Nash jumped in to understand the timeline, sounding so casual that it surprised me.

    The whole conversation continued until Detective Nash asked him about the victim. "He passed away. Did you know he was involved in a police investigation before? Had he mentioned anything of the sort to you?"

    "He''s dead?" Dean pretended to be shocked. "Police... investigation..." he gritted his teeth. He was trying to rein in his reaction to the best of his abilities.

    "Yes, do you know of it?" I interjected.

    "Ah yes, the rape-murder case." His voicecked emotion.

    "So, you know about it. Did he tell you?" Detective Nash asked. Dean nodded.

    "He mentioned it in the passing," he sighed.

 Chapter 90: Punish Them

    Chapter 90: Punish Them

    "Mentioned it in the passing? Raping and murdering someone isn''t something you mention in the passing," I snapped, finally getting into my bit. My hand banged against the table. I hoped that I was ying my part properly. "What a cocky bastard." I hissed.

    "Detective Lewis," Nash reprimanded right on cue.

    "Well, the sick bastard slipped through the investigation and wasn''t convicted. It''s probably a good thing that he''s dead. Divine retribution if you ask me." Dean looked up at me in shock.

    "But we still need to find out the guy who murdered him. That''s our job. Keep your personal feelings out of this," Detective Nash said in a firm voice. I scoffed and looked away. Dean''s eyes were trained on me. He waspletely ignoring Detective Nash post that.

    The need to brag about what he had done was bubbling in his heart and I was the person who was on his side in his opinion.

    "Do you know who did it?"

    "No."

    "I think you do know who did it," Detective Nash pressed. He had grown aggressive, making himself out to be the bad guy in the situation.

    "No," Dean replied confidently. He had been expecting this confrontation at some point in this conversation. He had not an ounce of guilt or emotion in his voice. If he hadn''t done it, he would have been appalled and asked why he was being treated this way. But no, he had reacted like he knew exactly what the answer was and didn''t want to tell.

    Like a stubborn child who had stolen but didn''t want to admit to it.

    "Tell me something. His parents need to know what happened to him. They deserve better!" he demanded.

    "I don''t know anything. I told you when Ist saw her."

    "But that''s not true. Because we have proof," I said calmly. We had rehearsed this moment multiple times beforeing into the interrogation. We had nned who would reveal the surveince tape to the suspect and exactly at which moment.

    The situation waspletely transparent yet he continued to maintain his innocence by clinging to his narrative. It became evident that he was not going to budge. So I took control. I revealed the final and most substantial piece of evidence. Now, I had to tell him I understood and make him speak to me.

    "We have proof, Dean. I don''t care about what you did. I am doing my job... I look at that man and I think about the people who did this to me. The pain I suffered and I see why this man needed to be punished. But I need to know the truth. I need to know the truth, Dean." My voice wavered as I spoke. I pressed my finger against the picture of the victim.

    "This man is dead." I bit out the words. "He was a horrible man and he deserved what wasing to him, but he is dead."

    "I know it''s your job... but I don''t know." His voice was weaker. He was slowly cracking. Dean''s eyes flitted to Detective Nash and I knew what was stopping him. Detective Nash needed to leave.

    I had one leg crossed over the other, I lifted it and quickly kicked Detective Nash''s chair, informing him that I needed alone time. This was something I had decided from the beginning.

    It was not a good n to lower the pressure at this point, but we have changed methods. We were taking a risk by putting me there alone with this guy.

    Detective Nash cleared his throat. "I''m sorry. I''ll go to the bathroom." He sighed as he scrubbed his face, showing that he was tired of the conversation. Dean''s eyes gleamed with victory as he watched Detective Nash stand up and leave the room. The door remained open and Dean kept his eyes on his retreating figure.

    I leaned back into my chair, unsure if I could pull the trick off.

    I was looking towards the wall, pretending to be deep in thought when Dean interrupted the silence.

    "What happened to you?" he whispered.

    I blinked and turned my head to him, confused.

    "That," he pointed towards the scars on my hand. "Did you do that to yourself?" he whispered.

    "No. Someone else did. I still remember every moment. But I came back alive." I gulped.

    "I''m terribly sorry. Those people should be punished. Were they punished?" I looked him in the eye.

    "Is it really punishment that they received? They went behind the bars for a couple of years. Whereas I... I am living with the memories of what they did to me. My family, my friends... they are all suffering with me. I can only stop them frommitting more crimes. I can''t erase what they did to those other people, though." I sighed heavily.

    "That is why someone needs to take care of those people. They slip through the cracks, use their money and power to slither right out of being punished, and then... and then they live excellent lives like nothing had happened. They boast about the horrendous things they did." He shook his head in disbelief.

    I wanted to chuckle. Sir, that is the exact same thing that you are doing.

    "It angers you, doesn''t it? It makes me see red," I admitted. "Have you ever done anything to stop them? To punish them?" I asked, not ncing at him. I wanted to act like I was thinking about something I had done.

    "Sometimes when I see someone molest a woman on the street, I beat the shit out of them. It makes me happy to hurt them like they hurt those women," he revealed in a conspiratorial tone. This I knew about. This man had a record of violence. He had beat up some guys on the street for trying to mug and molest a prostitute on the street. There was nothing wrong with saving the woman, just that he had beat those guys half to death. They had to be admitted to the hospital.

 Chapter 91: Hard to Resurface

    Chapter 91: Hard to Resurface

    I paused for a minute, trying to figure out what I should say next. We had not expected him to start speaking so freely so quickly. My silence must have tipped him off because his expression became harsh.

    "You beat them up?" She nodded. "How many women did you save, you think?" I asked. This was the best method to make him confess to the most violence without making him think I was pinning a crime on him. He was saving people, that was what my words conveyed.

    "Not enough," he sighed, aggrieved. "I once beat up a group of four guys. Made them remember what it feels like to be tormented." He scoffed. "Do you know about it?" he asked, looking up curiously.

    "I''m not sure I do," I yed it safe. I didn''t know if my knowledge would make him stop speaking or not. "Tell me. Do you get angry when women are assaulted?"

    "Yes, it makes my blood boil. Those fuckers need to be taught a lesson. Our justice system and police force are so inefficient that they can''t even punish people. Someone needs to!" He banged his fist on the table.

    "Why are you so passionate about this? Most men are stumbling over their feet trying to talk about how not all men are predatory. Why are you so different?" I asked. This was a question I needed answers to. What was his motivation?

    "I had a crush on this girl in high school. A couple of jocks thought she was ignoring them. They killed her after raping her. It went on for hours..." he trailed off, tears prickling in his eyes.

    I sat stunned. He said someone else did it. He didn''t mention he did it. Was this evasion of truth or... I looked at his expression and grew more confused.

    "You sound like you saw it happen," I whispered. I leaned forward, reaching out and cing my hand over his fist. "You can tell me." The conviction in my voice must have made him feelfortable.

    "No, I wasn''t there. I just know... that''s how it happened." A sob ripped through him.

    "And what happened to those boys?" I asked. He was not lying. He was not lying, but he was definitely present at the scene of the crime. He wasn''t a very good liar, but these words he was saying... he truly believed them. He really thought he was not there at the scene. But he also knew the details.

    "Nothing," he spat. "Their daddies got them a free card out of punishment."

    My mind wandered. Should I keep pressing him to understand why he didn''t mention being at the scene or get a confession about the serial killings?

    "That must have hurt. Did you get to tell her that you liked her?" I asked. My hands were slightly trembling and I tried to control them as best as I could.

    "No, I couldn''t." He retrieved his hand from under mine and pressed it against his face, hiding as tears poured out.

    "I''m so sorry to hear that. You deserved better." I sighed. "It must have been hard talking to him. He was a piece of shit, too. He killed a woman after raping her, didn''t he?"

    "You should call him by his name. Earle Desmond," Dean said firmly. "When you don''t say his name with the crime hemitted, you let him get away with it."

    "You''re right. Earle... how did you talk to him without feeling anger and disgust?" I scrunched my nose to imitate the emotion.

    "It was hard... it was really hard. Whenever I saw him, I wanted to puke. He was so charismatic and carefree. He acted like it was no big deal and I had to smile and stay silent." He shook his head in disbelief.

    "Why did you stay silent?" I asked. "If it were me, I would have turned him away. I wouldn''t be able to stand being near him. You''re really a strong and excellent person. You didn''t deprive him of your services even though he was a horrible person." Dean looked up and then smirked.

    I felt like a breakthrough had happened. I had confirmed that he was above average. That was what he was looking for. To appease me and make me think more highly of him, he would brag. Only, I would have to coax him a little. That was okay.

    "Do you think I wanted to talk to him? I was hoping someone would end him." Okay, that was progress. He admitted that he wanted Earle dead.

    "Why didn''t you beat him up, though? Like those other guys? You could have punished him." Dean stiffened slightly and he stared at me, trying to find something. "You''re admirable. You aren''t scared that these scumbags will press charges against you. How can they when they were the ones doing the wrong?" I looked up at the ceiling. "When you have the job that I do, you see people worse than you can imagine. It makes you look at people differently. When you dive into the swamp, it is hard to resurface. Sometimes..." I trailed off. I nced at him and realized that he was fascinated.

    "I..." he trailed off. It had been a long time since Detective Nash had left. As if on cue, he entered.

    "I''m back. I''ve been workingte nights so I have stomach flu, I think," he chuckled. I remained silent as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Dean looked at me with confidence that I wouldn''t reveal anything much.

    Now, I was wondering how we would bring out the actual news. I was too amateur to make him confess following procedure, which was why Detective Nash had intervened, probably.

    "Did you guys talk about anything fun?" Nash asked casually and Dean shook his head.

    "We were just talking about life in general. I would love to grab a coffee with Detective Lewis after I tell you everything I know. Detective, you''re single, right?" My heart skipped a beat but a smile bloomed on my face.

 Chapter 92: Manipulative Scum

    Chapter 92: Maniptive Scum

    "Sure, that sounds like a n," I said. "But Dean, you need to answer our questions honestly before you leave." Now, I had a role to y. Detective Nash had scratched his nose, so I knew it was time to increase the pressure.

    "I have been honest with you the whole time," he defended, his voice low and confused.

    "No, you haven''t. But you need to start now," Detective Nash demanded. He ced the file on the desk and flipped it open. "You lied to us about passing the victim. No... we''ll call him Earle. We found the encounter you spoke of. And we followed the footage. You are in every frame, following Earle."

    Dean''s eyes dimmed. "It... it was not me." He turned to me to plead.

    "Then, where were you these past two weeks?" Nash asked, his voice no longer friendly. "I trusted you. Detective Lewis trusted you and we find this footage... you need to tell us where you were. We are trying to help you out in this situation but you keep lying to us."

    "I... I was at the hotel," he stuttered. His eyes nced at me. I knew that he was trying to impress me and seeing if I thought less of him. I put on an expression of disappointment.

    "But you weren''t. We found everything. Was it you? Did you do that to him?" Nash asked.

    "Just tell us. If you lie, it makes you seem worse," I sighed. I pled with him.

    "I didn''t do it," he hissed.

    "Well, your criminal record doesn''t say the same!" Nash responded firmly. He pulled out photographs after photographs of battered men. "You were charged with battery and excessive force."

    I leaned in and took a picture to take a look at it. My eyes shed towards Dean and then back at the photo in my hand. He really did have bursts of anger. This was done under blinding rage.

    "That doesn''t mean I did anything to Earle!" he shouted.

    "We are not saying you murdered him. We don''t know what happened. We have footage of you getting into the same car as him and that was thest time we saw him on the footage. Something happened to Earle after that. Maybe it was something else, but you know... you know something that you are not telling us."

    "I told you when Ist saw him," he pressed.

    "But that''s not true. We have proof," I interjected quickly. "That is why we are sitting here, Dean. We need this. "

    "Maybe something transpired in the car..." Nash said in a lower voice.

    "No..."

    "Something must have happened because he never got out of the car, Dean. I am tired and I want to know what happened. I want to go home. I want to rest and you are not helping me."

    "I was not there in the car. I don''t know what happened, Dean. But video cameras do not lie. Did Earle do something? He''s a maniptive scumbag, maybe he did something..." This was alternative questioning. I was giving him alternate solutions and ming the victim so that he could answer. It would lead to a confession at the least.

    I was giving him a far more morally eptable choice for him to agree to.

    It didn''t work. Nash kicked my chair and I shut up immediately. The silence was filled with Nash taking over the question.

    "Okay, take me through this. He got into the car with you... Where did you go with him?"

    "I didn''t go anywhere..."

    "You did," Nash interjected. "You did. So, is the video camera lying? I have footage to prove otherwise."

    The CCTV footage could be quite damning but it wouldn''t have a big impact in court. It was still inconclusive evidence. We needed a confession and continue to apply pressure relentlessly.

    "We''re not biased against you. We''re just doing our job. Help me," I begged.

    Dean picked up a bottle of water and shook his head.

    "No. No... no... Where did you go with him?" Nash asked.

    "Dean, where did you go with him? I know you''re not a bad person. Please tell us..." I paused. "I know you are not evil. You are dolling out justice. Just... please tell us."

    He whispered that he didn''t know anything.

    Nash started to tell him exactly the route he took and Dean watched. He was slowly resigning to his fate. Fifteen minutes more and he was still denying it, his voice growing dimmer.

    "Where did you drop him off?" I asked.

    "I didn''t drop him off," he admitted. This was a breakthrough, we had once again made him adjust his story by lowering his level of admission. Now we needed to get more damning information.

    More time passed as he refused to give up more information.

    "I understand. I really understand." God, I had never pleaded with anyone this much. "What you say is how people will remember you. Do not let them think of you like a twisted monster, Dean."

    He became silent. After a couple of minutes, he looked up and stared right at me.

    "I want to talk to Detective Lewis alone," he demanded.

    "I--" Detective Nash stopped me from talking.

    "Okay, I''ll give you two some privacy."

    "Thank you," Dean said finally. As Detective Nash closed the door behind him, Dean slumped in exhaustion.

    "What do you want to talk to me about?" I asked.

    "You... you are the only one who will understand. You remember what they did to you... you will understand." He began feverishly. He admitted to asphyxiating Earle to the point he fainted and then traveled with him until the show. He admitted to transporting the bull backstage himself and going up. Everything. "I want to finish them all up. I felt good about it."

    "Is there anyone else?" I asked, my voice neutral.

    He nodded. "I killed two more. They were just as bad. I just... those poor girls..."

    "Thank you for telling me, Dean. Thank you." I didn''tment about what a horrible person he was. I wanted to bring up the rape-murder case he was involved in but now was not the time. My phone vibrated and I looked at it.

    "Come out," it said. I pushed it into my pocket.

    "Stay here. I''ll be right back," I assured him and slowly walked out of the room.

 Chapter 93: Mental Breakdown

    Chapter 93: Mental Breakdown

    As I was about the close the door behind me, the suspicion from earlier gripped me. "Hey, Dean?" His head perked up at the sound of my voice. "Who pulled the fire rm?"

    He stiffened and his eyes widened in panic. I noted unsteadily as his eyes moved to the CCTV camera and he kept shaking his head. "No one was helping me. What makes you say that?" The hand on the table slid away as he fit it underneath. His body was defensive and I realized I had made a huge mistake.

    I kept my mouth shut as I waited for someone to show up. How was I supposed to make this situation better? I heard footsteps from behind me. It was Sebastian. He was almost running towards me. He stayed hidden from Dean''s side and whispered to me.

    "Come out. It''s okay."

    "It''s okay, Dean. I didn''t mean anything by that. I''ll leave you for a while," I said with a slightly stiff smile and closed the door. I quickly moved away as if the doorknob was on fire.

    "I messed up, didn''t I?" I groaned.

    "No. It''s okay. It was not part of the n, it was okay." He remained rtively silent. "Let''s get you washed up. You never know what kind of germs he is carrying around. He might be a drug addict, too. Wash your hands." I nodded and followed him.

    "But why am I washing up?" I said suddenly, realizing what was wrong with his words. "What? Am I supposed to get psychopath germs from interacting with him?"

    We were already at the little monitoring room when I said it. Sebastian pushed me inside and shook his head.

    "Evie," Detective Nash called. He looked unbothered by thest stunt I pushed but the guilt made me speak.

    "I''m sorry for going out of the script. I messed up." I bowed my head.

    "Oh, don''t say that! You were such a joy to work with. You followed the signals so well and made so much progress with the suspect. I was astounded." He smiled warmly. "As I matter of fact, I am wondering if I should steal you from Sebastian. What are your thoughts on taking the civil service examination, huh?" he joked.

    "Well, she might have been better than some other detectives but she was way too familiar with him. While you act understanding and offended on the suspect''s behalf, don''t make him think that he shouldn''t respect you at all."

    "Did I do that?" I asked.

    Detective Nash nodded. "Well, these videos get submitted to the jury, so if they see someone overly sympathizing, it can look bad for the detective. It was a great tactic, especially in this case, but you''ll learn to tone it down a little."

    "I''ll study this more," I informed them sincerely.

    "I can''t believe a suspect asked you out for coffee in the first interrogation," Sebastian scoffed.

    "It''s because Evie is a catch and everyone can see how charming she is," Nash defended quickly.

    "Don''t tell me, none of the suspects ever asked you out," I joked, even though I was ufortable that Dean had asked me out.

    "I''m sorry. I don''t want anyone to ask me out!" Sebastian retorted. "What''s so good about being popr among criminals?" The snort came and Detective Nash looked between the two of us spectively. I wanted to defend myself but Nash might have already drawn his conclusion.

    This was what I was scared about. This misunderstanding. It was okay.

    "You don''t mind me stealing your assistant, though?" Nash asked, surprised.

    "We''ll have a three-month school break after the exams and I won''t be busy at that time. She can use the time time to productively intern with your team. She''ll learn a lot." Sebastian nced towards me in question.

    "That sounds nice," I encouraged. It seemed he had nned out my future very well. As we were talking amongst ourselves, I saw Dean''s reaction on the monitor.

    "What is happening?" I asked, pointing towards the screen.

    "You are seeing a human being experience an emotional reckoning so overwhelming while also trying to process of understanding how terrifying his current situation is."

    He was pacing across the room, mewling and wailing. He looked like he was having a breakdown.

    "This is unexpected from him. He was so cocky and sure that he had done the right thing..." I trailed off.

    "Usually, the ones like him don''t cry. They silently stew in their misfortune. But he..." Nash frowned.

    "It''s because Evie asked me about someone helping him," Sebastian interjected. "That put him off-guard."

    "What did you mean by that, Evie?" Nash asked me curiously.

    "Something has been bothering me," I exined. "I was trying to ignore it, but the ring evidence has made me unable to look away."

    "What evidence?" Sebastian asked.

    "You must have recognized it, too," I pleaded, my eyes searching for understanding. "He is a violent individual but I don''t think he would murder people again. Even if it is possible, the showmanship, the idea of punishment, it wouldn''t match with his profile. Medieval torture methods for the punishment of criminals? That is a highly improbable method of execution, won''t you say?"

    "But it still doesn''t indicate that someone else was involved," Nash interjected.

    "At first, it was just a suspicion, now I am sure. Earle is the third victim. There were two others before whose records were not made public. Especially Richard who was in the military. I refuse to believe that the victims would tell Dean about their crimes." I shook my head. "I have spoken to him. He is mildly charming, but not enough to invoke confessions from people. Someone fed him the information. Someone fed him information."

    "Lastly, the fire rm rang without prompting. There was no fire, but just as people started to notice something was wrong, the rm rang." I gave Sebastian a pointed look.

    "I suspected the same," he said. "That''s why I went running when you asked Dean. I was meaning to ask him myself when I evaluated him and the crime," he informed.

    "Sorry. I ruined it for you," I frowned.

    "You didn''t. Seeing him in this state is a good sign. When he feels doomed, he''ll tell me more easily to make himself look morally better." I nodded. I would believe what Sebastian said.

    "Is there anything else?" Detective Nash asked, peering at me.

    "There was something that the person sitting beside me at the show said that stuck with me," I told him tentatively. "I bought the tickets on the day of the show. I bid for it and the price of the ticket was the same as what the others bought." I sighed.

    "What about it?" Detective Nash asked.

    "The show was sold out months in advance. Everyone bought it then but I somehow got two resold tickets for such a cheap price." It was really bothering me.

    "You could have been lucky." I shook my head.

    "I have used up my miracle for this life. This is not an easy coincidence to have." I pressed my hands over my chest and waited for their input.

    "Used up your miracle, huh?" he repeated. "Do you have the link to the post you bought it on?" I nodded.

    I pulled out my cellphone and showed him the information. "The seller deleted their ount. I have screenshots of everything so... here." I bit my lips.

    "Thanks, just send it to me." I did have the Detective''s number, so I sent it to him within a few moments.

    "Why do you think someone targetted you?" Sebastian asked. He was sure there was an ally, but he didn''t seem sure about the tickets. It could be a coincidence, I could see his opinion in his eyes. But that was it. It wasn''t. I wasn''t being paranoid.

    "Not me. They want your attention," I told him quickly. "I made the ount in your name. The card details were yours, too. So, whoever this is, was targetting you," I informed him. Sebastian''s eyes hardened slightly and then he shrugged.

    "Well, as long as it''s not you." He chuckled.

    "You two are so strange," Nash dered.

    "Well, don''t worry. I''m proficient in martial arts, I''ll protect you," I joked, even though this was not a joking matter.

    "And you can run as fast, too. So, you just run if someone attacks me. I''ll handle it myself." He raised his hand to shuffle my well-ced hair. I ducked away, avoiding his hand.

    "Don''t rub my hair, all my hair will fall," I warned.

    "Well, I wouldn''t want to run around with a bald assistant," he insisted.

    "Okay, break it up, you two." Nash pped his hand. "What are we going to do with him?" He pointed towards Dean, whose mental breakdown had turned into anger.

    "We''ll listen to him rage for another hour. Let him along with his thoughts. I think he''s on drugs or was on drugs until yesterday. Let it make him paranoid. The more he spills the easier it will be for us to ask him intrusive questions."

    "Do you want me to go in with you?" I asked.

    "No, you stay outside. Take extensive notes and transcribe the whole interview for now." I nced towards Nash.

    "Do it. We''ll take permission from the higher authority and judges so that he can include the case in his ss and next book." Detective Nash chuckled. "You better put my name in the acknowledgments. Actually, you know what? I want to write the introduction to your book."

    I giggled as the two bargained about how important their name would be in the research. It was hrious. They went from crime-fighting machines to academics really quickly.

 Chapter 94: Throwing Board

    Chapter 94: Throwing Board

    Sebastian went into the interrogation room after half-an-hour. Unlike my sympathetic approach and Detective Nash''s calm and friendly approach to interrogation, he was a more clinical person. He walked into the room with an air of knowledge that neither of us possessed and chatted to him about his life in general. From what we could see, he had no memory of being a perpetrator in the rape-murder case and firmly believed that he was avenging his long-lost high school crush.

    He mmed up the moment questioning about the serial killing began. Sebastian smiled as he patiently coaxed, asking questions about the perpetrators and how Dean stalked them before finding them.

    It was a long discussion. He got lost in his obsessive thoughts, telling each and every detail of what had happened, gloating really. A stark contrast to what he had been when no one was in the room. The presence of others brought out the performer in him and he got the will to pretend that he was okay, that he was not scared about what his life would look like from now on.

    I sat on the other side, writing every word spoken. It was quite fascinating how Dean described himself as this vignte who was helping women. I hadn''t expected him to talk so much upfront, but he was spilling everything.

    I was almost suspicious that Sebastian had some superpower.

    "The cases were very confidential, where did you get the information from?" he asked after a long time.

    He mmed up as readily as he had spoken. After ten more minutes of Sebastian speaking to him and asking him to cooperate, he finally gave the first clue.

    "I got the files in the mail," he admitted atst. There was nothing else, he didn''t know who had pulled the fire rm or how they had found him, but they did send him. Dean took it as a sign from God and followed his mission to end those people.

    It all sounded like bullshit. It really did, but Sebastian said nothing. He finished the interview and came out looking perplexed.

    "Is he lying?" Detective Nash and I asked.

    "No, he didn''t lie. He froze up and cried because we found out that he wasn''t the sole mind behind the serial killings. I think he wanted to be credited for them if he ever got caught. And he knew he would someday get caught. He just didn''t expect that we would find out something was amiss." He pursed his lips and thought for a minute.

    "Then what was the talk about a sign from God?" I asked. "That doesn''t seem to be in his pattern. The reluctance to trust anyone in power and hatred for society because it doesn''t uphold justice doesn''t fall in line with the pattern of ''God made me do it.''" What the hell was this case? Why did it have to be so perplexing.

    "They drew blood and it has gone for testing. We''ll find out what he was on. If someone did send those files to Dean, they had ess to it. This means someone who has ess to it spoke of these cases to the aplis and also spoke about Dean''s case."

    I shook my head. "They might not have known about Dean''s case," I told him. "The turn of someone''s eyes, the expression in it, and how they react to situations gives away the criminal potential of someone who is unstable."

    Detective Nash protested quickly. "I don''t think that is possible," he said quickly.

    "Believe me, people can understand. When you are drenched in darkness, you can see the darkness in the soul of others, too. It permeates their skin and their words. Detectives and academics have to study it, but others... we get the sense naturally." It wasn''t a lie, I seemed to have this power stuffed into me.

    "It''s a gut feeling. Just like we have gut feelings about a case or a suspect, people with contact to violent crimes can sense these things because of their prior experience." Sebastian shrugged. "We''ll have to look into both of it. In that case, we will need to go through Dean''s residence and shop. Maybe we will get a hint from the CCTV footage in the store or the list of customers he has met in the past."

    "We''ll have to date it back to at least a year. This will take forever," Detective Nash frowned.

    "Well, that is your job. We''ll be off for now. Keep me updated about the test results." Sebastian waved him off and took me back to the car.

    "Do you think the case will be sent to court quickly?" I asked. Sebastian shook his head. "The courts are in a backtrack. He''ll remain in confinement for a couple of months before the first trial... at least. But in the meantime, a public defender will be appointed to him."

    "You don''t think he will call awyer himself?" I asked.

    "He may. But we will have to see. The news will cover this as soon as the Chief of Police makes a statement. His family will be informed too. They might get someone to represent him."

    "It''s going to be hard for anywyer to take up the case, really." I wondered out loud. "With the confession and the subsequent details about the stalking, making of the devices, and public execution, it will be hard to get him out on bail."

    "You''re right. You did an excellent job, so we have a full-proof admission of guilt to provide at court." I scoffed.

    "There you go again." I rolled my eyes. "We''ll be summoned in court, will we not?" I asked.

    "Yes, Detective Nash and you will be called in to give detailed statements about the interrogation whereas I will be called in as the appointed criminal psychologist who talked to the perpetrator after the confession. You''ll also find a range of psychiatrists that will be brought in to prove my statements."

    "Seems like a long process," I muttered.

    "They try to be meticulous so that nothing falls between the cracks. But sometimes it does." He shook his head in memory of something. I was about to ask when he started driving.

    "I spend a lot of time in the courtroom, you know? It is part of the job." He shrugged. "But it is rewarding when someone you caught faces the punishment they deserve."

    I smiled. "You''re a good man," I told him.

    "Just doing my job," he said like a wise-crack.

    "Well, I am stunned to know you actually also want to help humanity and not just catch criminals to search through their brain," I smirked when I saw him raise his brow.

    "Well, you''re not wrong. I did start out that way, watching people and trying to guess what was on their mind, but seeing one less person being killed or vited is also nice. It makes me feel better about myself," he admitted.

    "You don''t need anything else to make you feel better about yourself, you know that right?" I teased.

    "You shouldn''t say that to the person who protects you from the monsters at night," he reprimanded me.

    "You don''t really keep them away." Most of the time. Sebastian had a biological clock that never deviated. If he was on a case, he would spend all day working on it, but as soon as it was time, he would fall on the bed and sleep. He imed to be a light sleeper, but no matter how much I called him, he didn''t wake up.

    Or maybe it was because I imagined calling him in my lucid dreams.

    Sebastian pouted. "Your session is tomorrow, am I right?" he asked.

    I nodded. "I dyed it a couple of days because of the case but it seems that it was unnecessary. We''re done with it so I can speak to Dr Knight without any worries." I sighed in relief.

    "Why were you worried?" he asked, surprised.

    "The cases... they always leave me in a lurch. I wonder if I am a psychopath just like them or evil... and it weakens my progress. So, I wanted to have a clear mind when I went to Dr. Knight."

    "You should have done the exact opposite. Use Dr. Knight as your throwing board. Throw whatever you think at him and make him see what really goes on in your mind. He is a talented man, but he''s not omniscient. So, tell him so that he can help you better." His suggestion made sense. "You know you can take emergency appointments, right?"

    I raised my brow, making Sebastian chuckle.

    "Well, I know where Dr. Knight lives. If you ever feel like you are drowning and even I can''t pull you out, just say the word and I will drive you over to his ce." He smirked. "You can choose your poison, too. He might give you meds to calm down or even some alcohol. You never know." Sebastian winked.

    "Alcohol sounds like a bag idea when I am having a crisis," I said suspiciously.

    "Well, then you can drink with him after your therapy is over." I closed my eye and felt a smile spreading across my face. I would very much like to get to know the fascinating Dr. Knight away from his office. He looked like a cuddly pr bear who could do no harm.

 Chapter 95: Ethics of Torture

    Chapter 95: Ethics of Torture

    When we pulled up to the university, we were almostte for ss. I shuffled into ss so that Sebastian could take his time before returning. The ss was a three-hour continuous one that fried the students'' brains. Mostly the post-graduates and doctorate students attended it with a few undergraduates overestimating themselves. It was an advanced ss in victimology and restorative justice.

    Sebastian hadn''t told me what today''s ss was about, so I was in the dark about this. I was talking to individual students, taking questions about the course and date of submissions when Sebastian walked in. I nodded towards him and walked towards the end of the ss.

    "In today''s ss, we will be evaluating torture and its effects on the victim." My eyes shot to him, my hands pausing over the keyboard. Was this why he had kept it from me? He nced at me passively and didn''t even acknowledge it.

    "We''ll be looking over a couple of cases and I will put it up to you to decide how the victims need to be rehabilitated."

    The first couple of cases dealt with state authenticated torture and captivity of terrorists. The ss was fired up, people firing out their opinions.

    "The question I want to pose is, does a criminal deserve to be tortured and treated inhumanly?" Sebastian stood back, his eyes roaming over the students. Mostly, the undergraduates and post-graduate students pointed out their opinions.

    "In my opinion, if the torture and captivity of a criminal can lead to extraction of information that can save many more lives, I don''t see the problem with it." I flinched. It didn''t sit well with me.

    "Then, in your opinion..." Sebastian began. "If torturing a criminal saved a hundred thousand lives, it is okay to torture them, is that right?" Some students nodded. "Okay, raise your hand if you agree." Hismand was received well.

    "Okay. If torturing a criminal saves one life, is that okay?" People still raised their hands.

    "Then, if we torture the criminal, and no lives are saved. Is it still right?" There was silence in the ss. People still raised their hands. He picked one of them and asked them to stand up. "Don''t be scared," he assured the guy. "I''ll give you a hypothetical question." Sebastian looked around the ss, he pointed towards the girl this guy liked and pulled her up. Just because.

    The maniptive man. I shook my head.

    "She is the criminal in question," he said. "She has allegedly nted a bomb within the city and you need to find out where it is," he exined. I sat back and watched him look down at his desk calctingly. "Will you torture her to find out?" he asked.

    The guy gulped and hesitated before nodding.

    "What about everyone else?" There was radio silence. "Raise your hands," hemanded. Some did. There was a long silence.

    "I have a few questions for you, then. First, are you sure that there is a bomb?"

    "There is no benefit of the doubt in this situation," I female student spoke up. "In the off chance that there is a bomb, we need to find it and take care of it. And this is the suspect who knows the location."

    "Okay, I admit. There is no benefit of the doubt in this matter. There are lives at stake. Then my second question bes, what technique will you use to bring out the information?" He picked up a fountain pen from the table and opened the cap. He smiled at the student and asked them to keep their hand on the desk.

    "Come on," he coaxed. "If you have chosen torture, you need to tell me what is the most effective." If this was Sebastian''s way of breaking bias, he was very aggressive about it. I quite liked this style. He was shattering their concept little by little. Having a live person in front of them appealed to their humanity. No one spoke. "Okay, I''ll choose it myself, then." He pressed the nib between the girl''s fingers and she flinched back.

    The students protested.

    "What? You don''t want this to happen?" he asked with a small smile. "Why?"

    "She didn''t do anything wrong!" the guy from earlier yelled from the back. I chuckled. "I don''t understand what you are getting at."

    "But you''re just assuming that she didn''t do anything wrong. This is a critical situation, we can''t take a risk." Throwing their argument back at them, huh?

    The message sank in. "If you''re appalled that an innocent human is getting tortured, be appalled when the person isn''t innocent, either. They are humans and they deserve to be respected. If you think torture brings out results, you are wrong. It has the lowest turnover rates. Instead, detective work, psychology, and ethical interrogative methods produce authentic information. When you treat someone as a human, they feel better. Moreover, torture can lead to false information being given."

    "To escape the pain, a person can say just about anything. They can lie, or even make up something they have no clue about to get away from the source of pain," a doctoral student answered.

    "Moreover, the body in pain is without reason. There is no method tomunicate the truth when you are unable to express yourself. Pain renders you unable to speak or emote," I added in from the back. The ss turned to look at me.

    "It is hard for people who are not in the situation to understand the extent of the pain. You might see someone in pain and say that you feel it, but in reality, you are unable. You can only imagine, but you will never know exactly how it manifests." It was a fact.

    "And if you all want more information on this, the reading material I will give out at the end of ss will help put things into perspective." The conversation went on for longer with people mildly discussing rehabilitation for criminals who have faced state-sponsored brutality. It was an enriching experience.

 Chapter 96: Opportunity to Speak

    Chapter 96: Opportunity to Speak

    Sebastian quietened down the ss and turned to the next slide. "All of you must know this case. This has been the biggest serial killing spree in the past decade. The media have obsessively written about it and the killer still receives letters and emails from people, some cursing her, some idolizing her." I knew the person in the picture all too well.

    "Alicia Williams." The ssroom waited with bated breath. I didn''t react because he had taken my permission to talk about the case when I first joined him. He had taken this example every year since Alicia was caught and my presence wouldn''t change his sybus.

    Also, I wanted to know what others thought. There must be a reason he used this case as an example in this ss.

    "Who can tell me about this case?" he asked the ss. His eyes didn''t meet mine so I knew that I wasn''t supposed to answer. I knew far too much to actually have an input in this ss. But I was itching to hear what the others had to say. It was like being a fly in someone else''s conversation.

    A post-graduate student gave an overview of the case.

    "Right," he said, appraising the ss. "Now, of all the victims that survived the serial killer in that building, I have spoken to two. Do you know why?" Sebastian asked.

    "Because it gives you a perspective on the killer?" Someone asked.

    "Sebastian shook his head. Indeed, talking to the victim gives you a first-hand ount of what happened. And it is a very good thing if we have the victim tell the story themselves. It means that they survived. But I could only talk to two." He paused, silent.

    "Only two of the victims survived? What happened to the other two?"

    "No, only one victim survived." My head snapped up. That meant... only I... what happened to the other one? I took in a shuddering breath.

    "You said you spoke to two victims," a doctoral student mentioned.

    "Yes, one victim passed away shortly after they were discovered due to physicalplications. Despite the medical attention given to them, the malnutrition and shock had set in. There were alsoplications from blood loss," he mentioned. "The second person killed themselves. He bought a gun and put it to his head because he couldn''t take the images in his head anymore."

    I hadn''t known the details. I had prided myself for holding it in, but I couldn''t deny that I had thought of doing such a thing as well.

    "I had the opportunity to speak to the third victim rescued. Unfortunately, they killed themselves two weeks ago. I had thought that they held on for six years, so it would get a little easier, but that wasn''t the case." This time, he did nce towards me. I suddenly realized why he had wanted me to go to see a therapist. He had seen me deteriorate and with the news of another victim taking their own lives, he had been worried. "Before their death, they were involved in a lot of petty crimes and domestic violence charges, as well."

    I twitched.

    "Often, the victim tries to recreate the pain they felt on others to escape from it, to feel a sense of control over their own situation," another student chimed in.

    "Indeed. That brings me to thest victim." The screen changed. They couldn''t see my face or any distinguishing features but I knew the body on the screen. I had seen it in the mirror every day. The cuts, the infected flesh, and the emaciated condition... they seemed fresh in my brain. "Look carefully. This is what torture looks like. And it is not just this. Torture ys with the mind, it makes you believe that you are evil and that you deserved it. Torture is the most degrading thing to the dignity of a human. It slowly kills them without giving them a hope of escape."

    "This makes you really want to torture the person who did it," another student growled.

    "Thest victim... are we talking about the abducted daughter of the detective?" a doctoral student asked. I looked up. Of course, people would know. Hopefully, they didn''t know my name.

    "Yes. She was the one who survived the longest. Seven months imprisoned in that ce. And the police didn''t rescue her. She rescued herself. She escaped the building and ran to the police station herself to report it." Sebastian''s eyes glossed over in memory. I didn''t remember much of this, so I couldn''t say anything.

    "ording to the other victims, she participated in the torture of the others. She was hated among the victims. They even imed that she might have been an aplice and not a victim at all. That she was pretending."

    I gritted my teeth at that. I had never tortured anyone. I had resisted it to the end. I had watched helplessly, though. I couldn''t save them no matter what choice I made.

    "They were suffering from PTSD. Did you know that one of the victims stabbed her multiple times?" Sebastian switched the picture. "It was Victim 3. Alicia gave them a choice. They could alle together and kill Victim 4 and be freed. Or they could die."

    I had no idea what he was talking about. "Victim 1 and 2 resisted the choice, but Victim 3 picked up the knife and stabbed Victim 4. The wounds were shallow because they were distraught. Victim 4 was unbound so that she could fight and kill the others who attacked her."

    What is he talking about? I wanted to scream. "She chose to protect their lives. She was good at self-defense and somehow pushed Victim 3 away before blindly running out. The building was in the middle of nowhere. She probably ran about ten miles until she reached the police station. She asked for help and then copsed. She woke up shortly after and gave us enough information that we could find the location Alicia was holding the victims."

    "What do you think happened to her?"

 Chapter 97: Game of Power

    Chapter 97: Game of Power

    "She must be altered for life," a student murmured. "Does she remember?"

    "She remembers the parts where she watched the others die. She doesn''t remember defending them and protecting them. She doesn''t remember making the choice of not hurting the other victims when they turned on her. She helped the police rescue them even though she had been attacked by them."

    The same doctoral student from before started to speak again. "Doctor Butler, I have read the transcripts. She had every opportunity to escape before that. She was untied for longer periods of time and she even dined with Alicia, if I am not wrong. I don''t understand why she wasn''t summoned in court!" the female eximed.

    "She had the opportunity to escape?" Sebastian asked stunned. "You''re shaming the victim. Be careful," he warned.

    "No, I was in my graduate courses at the time and we dissected the case. I believe Victim 4 had a choice. She made the conscious choice to watch those people die. She could have helped them escape, but she chose to run away alone. Contrary to what you are saying, she did not help those victims. She was going to abandon them. It just so happened that she said some words that helped the police track her route."

    I couldn''t remain silent for long.

    "A choice? What choice are you talking about?" I asked. My voice was louder than I anticipated. The room turned to look at me incredulously. They had never heard me talk in this tone. The doctoral student looked pleasantly surprised. A gleam passed through their eye.

    The need to show off. Right, I was not a graduate of their faculty but this kind of arrogance pissed me off.

    "When faced with a situation, we are met with innumerous choices from which we choose to pick up and stay with it. In this case, Victim 4 chose to stay back and not save the other victims. She also participated in the mutted of the bodies post-mortem."

    I nodded. "You''re talking about infinite choice ced in front of a normal person. But in a situation of extreme power disparity, choices be obsolete. Let me put it this way. There is a finite number of choices that the person with less power can make. And these choices are not free to choose from, it is the ones given to the less powerful by the person in control." I paused, looking at her to see if I was making sense. "One can only reluctantly choose the better option."

    "Yes, but what was the choice presented to her? Freedom and watching other people die?" she scoffed.

    "What makes you think that such a choice was presented? Victim 4 was made to have conversations with the other victims, getting to know them and assure them everything would be okay before the others were killed right in front of her. The choice of saving someone was given to her. Lack ofpliance with the killer''s ns would result in pain."

    "Sorry, is the pain so magnificent in front of a human life?" she countered.

    "Okay, given the choice between saving yourself and someone else, who would you choose?" I asked. My legs tapped against the floor. The other looked conflicted before answering.

    "Someone else," she said proudly.

    "You took too long to answer," I replied with a small smile. "Okay, let me change the question, that was a hard one." I chuckled. "Given the choice, one of two victims will die. One is an old gentleman and the other a newborn infant. Who do you choose to save?"

    Stumped for words, she answered. "Uh, the newborn?" she asked me.

    "Good. But what gives you the right to choose who gets to live?" I asked. "Just because the other person was older and had lived a full life, it didn''t mean you should have chosen the child." I chuckled. "Also, why are you acting naive? Who said that the child won''t die? Do you think the killer cares? In the end, everyone dies. You can only choose to extend someone''s life by a few days."

    "But she had the choice!" I scoffed.

    "Stop talking like a broken record. What choice? Where is the choice? When you have no power, you have no choice. The only way to make the other lose power over you is to not y the game." She was about to make a smartment but I interjected. "And when you stop ying the game, what do you think happens to everyone else? They die. You die, too. You are no longer fun to hold captive. When you defy them, they get excited. When youply, they want to torture you more. But when you stop ying altogether, you have no use for them any longer. You will be thrown away like trash."

    There was silence. "I don''t understand why you disregard these simple concepts. If you''re so noble, then let me ask you a hypothetical question. Something that won''t hurt you in the least."

    "Go ahead," Sebastian called from in front.

    I nodded. "You are trapped in a room with a killer. The killer gives you a choice. He holds up two pieces of paper and asks you to choose between the two. If you get the right paper, he will let you live. Which one do you choose?"

    The ss looked baffled. Sebastian smirked. He must have figured out what I meant.

    "What is in those chits?" the student asked.

    "You don''t know that. But you need to choose."

    "The question makes no sense. If you don''t know what is in those chits, how do you choose?" Iughed.

    "Exactly. That''s what happened to Victim 4, right?" I challenged. "Now choose," I forced. I tore two pieces of paper and scribbled on it. I folded them up and held them up. "Choose," I repeated.

    "Right hand," she muttered with trepidation. I held it up and walked over to her. I handed it to her. She opened it, her eyes widening.

    "You survive," I said. I ced the other chit in front of her. She opened it and looked confused.

    "It says the same thing," she said loudly.

    "Yes. It does. It doesn''t matter the choice you made. You made the choice to survive. You didn''t want to die. No matter how dire the situation is, in the end, we are programmed to do everything in our power to survive."

    "But it makes no sense!" She argued. "It makes no sense that she didn''t try her level best to survive. She could have run."

    "Victim 4 did run. She survived, didn''t she?" I stared at her. "Why didn''t she do it before? Imagine getting sliced up by a knife repeatedly, watching people die in front of you, and being forced to watch the killer eat their flesh. Imagine the killer pouring saltwater on your wounds... The pain is crippling."

    The woman gaped.

    "You probably jump whenever a small cut on your fingeres in contact with water. But imagine being in so much pain that you don''t need to fall asleep, you just pass out from it. Do you think you would be able to run?" I looked around the ss. "We are unable to feel the pain of others. Therefore, we must not make assumptions about the degree of pain or the choices the person in pain made. What you should take from this ss is that torture alters you as a person. You don''t feel human anymore. You have no choice when all you know is pain. You don''t even remember your own name."

    "Evie is right," Sebastian breathed, making the tense air dissipate. "This ss should teach you the horrors of torture. It should teach you to fight against it and never demonize those undergoing it. If you think you can me the victim even though you are writing your doctoral thesis on victims of serial killers... please drop this ss." The woman who had spoken up mped her mouth shut. It seemed to be a direct attack on her.

    "Time''s up," Sebastian noted, looking down at his watch. "We''ll meet again next week. Please take the reading material from Evie." He gave me a curt nod and left the room. As I organized the papers and started to hand them out, the rebellious doctoral student came up to me.

    "It''s not often people know so much inside information about the case. I never read about the saltwater and choosing between victims thing." She looked confused. "My final chapter is on Alicia Williams. I have been contacting Dr. Butler for the files but he refuses to give me information on the victims. With only one person surviving, can you give me Victim 4''s contact information?"

    "That is why you should never assume to know what happened if you are not in the scene," I said. "About her phone number... she wouldn''t appreciate talking to you about the experience. You''re definitely prejudiced against her."

    The woman huffed. "I''ve spoken to Alicia Williams, you know? She gave me the details," the woman dared to scoff.

    "Yes, believe in the words of a serial killer who wants to appear like a good human being." I rolled my eyes.

    "You talk about me assuming things. But here you are. You''ve never spoken to Alicia or the victim but you can get away with assuming things. Talk about double standards." I mulled over the choice. In this case, I did have infinite choice. I was the one in power. For a moment, I savored the feeling.

    "I am not assuming anything. If you had asked Alicia who her least favorite captive was, you would know..." I paused for effect. "You would know her name was Evie Marie Lewis." I handed her the material and pointed her towards the door.

    I hated seeing the look of pity in people''s eyes. But this woman didn''t have any pity. Just shock.

    "Oh, right. How do I set up a meeting with Alicia?" I asked. "We lived alongside one another for seven months, you see. You don''t think she would reject my call, would you?" I asked.

    "Dr. Butler has spoken to her before. You can ask him," she said hurriedly before leaving.

    What a shame. She could have gotten an interview out of me if she had been nice and unbiased.

 Chapter 98: Leaving Clues

    Chapter 98: Leaving Clues

    The student didn''t pester me again. When I went to my session with Dr. Knight the next day, Sebastian couldn''t apany me. He had been called to the police station. He fought me tooth and nail when I told him I could reschedule the appointment. So, there I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for Dr. Knight to be done with the current patient.

    The door creaked open and I looked up. nces were shared between the two patients and Dr. Knight peered out to usher me in.

    "Evie, how have you been?" he asked me warmly.

    "I''ve been okay. What about you? You look positively exhausted this evening," Imented.

    "It''s my age, I think," he grumbled. "Working long days doesn''t suit me anymore. Especially with patients who act like monkeys and don''t finish my homework." Iughed as I pushed my hand into my bag.

    I ced the folder in front of him. "I don''t know if you were referring to me like a monkey, but I would like to exclude myself from the group. There you go, my homework." I jerked my chin towards it.

    Dr. Knight groaned as he sat up and took the file. "You really put in a lot of effort into this." He flipped through the paper, nomittally. I raised my brow in question. "What? If I could know you by just reading it myself, what use would this session be? Tell me how your week was."

    I shrugged. "Worked, caught criminals. Put some sense into obnoxious people," I smiled.

    He gave a full-bellyugh. "I am interested in thest part," he confessed. "How were they obnoxious? And how did you put them into their ce?"

    I reiterated the encounter with the student and fighting her opinion. Dr. Knight looked proud.

    "Evie, who should I thank for this?" he asked. "I suppose you." I scrunched my brow in confusion. "You defended yourself and your actions, Evie. When she ced the same evil vision of you, you fought back." He grinned.

    "I was just defending myself," I waved it off.

    "No, this is huge." He flipped through the paper and stopped at a certain page. "Read this part out to me." I looked through and started reading. It was a long passage about my fears. I spoke about how I had watched people die without doing anything, how I had been just as guilty as Alicia.

    "I see what you mean," I admitted reluctantly. "But the feeling hasn''t changed. It just infuriated me that she would speak of a situation she knew nothing about."

    "And that is why I am proud of you, Evie. At least when you were calling yourself Victim 4, you acknowledged how powerless you were in that scene. Only when you see yourself as a victim can you start to ovee the effect it had on you."

    "So, by saying that I am the victim, I am making progress?" I asked. "I always thought it was about acting strong and never giving in."

    "That''s a lot of bullshit people spew," he grunted. "If you don''t evaluate yourself and let out your emotions, you will only make your situation worse."

    "Do you want me to advertise that I am the victim?" I asked passively.

    "If you want to do that, fine. But you don''t seem like the type. You are allowed to feel anger towards people and ask why you were the one who faced this situation. You can feel sad for your family, who were brutally murdered in front of you without feeling guilt that you couldn''t help them. You... as you said in your own words, had no choice. A young girl being dragged into a world of cruelty. You didn''t deserve that."

    I didn''t voice it, but I felt like I did.

    "I can see you thinking about it," Dr. Knight said. My head snapped up and I gave him a guilty smile. "Have you visited your family?" he asked. I froze and then shook my head. "Where are they buried?" he asked.

    I shifted ufortably. "I''ll need to ask my aunt." I cleared my throat.

    "Okay. Moving on," I looked up in surprise. He gave me a small smile. "I''ll grill you more in the future. For now, I will let you think about what I said." I nodded. "Now, tell me about your sleeping schedule. Did you try what I had told you?"

    I nodded enthusiastically and turned to thest page. "I have made a table of my routine, the time I went to bed, when I fell asleep and the dreams I have had." He looked over it.

    "May I ask you a question?" I interjected.

    "Sure."

    "You just nced through the pages without reading but you still knew the contents of what I wrote. Is this a superpower?" I asked.

    He chuckled. "I''ve been doing this job for a very long time. I read exceptionally fast. And I don''t go into the details, I brush over it to get the gist." He winked. "If you want to learn, I can teach you."

    "I would love to learn," I said eagerly.

    "Okay, the dreams seem consistent. Has it gotten better, though?" he asked. He did seem a little worried.

    "Yes, I found someone trustworthy to sleep beside me. Uh, as long as they stay awake, I seem to be fine. It just spirals down when he falls asleep." I sighed.

    "He? Boyfriend?" he asked curiously. I squinted my eyes and shook my head.

    "No, it''s... it''s Sebastian," I admitted. Dr. Knight''s eyes widened. "I know... it sounds strange, but there is no one else I trust or know in town. I really want to get better." I looked down nervously.

    "If he is helping you, I won''t say anything. Did he teach you anything?" Dr. Knight asked, avoiding the major point in this discussion.

    "He taught me how to breathe and get out of paralysis. He also helps me through the aftereffects. I think I have gotten better at not being scared to sleep. That was a huge problem that I had in the past. Now, I can prepare for sleep without dread."

    He nodded in understanding. "Having someone trustworthy beside you reassures you that you will be safe from harm. I am d it is working out for you."

    We spoke about sleeping arrangements and everything. He nned out how I needed to wean off. Overall, there were a lot of stick figures and pictures involved in the exnation. There was no jargon used and the exnation felt logical.

    "I am happy you found someone who won''t get scared. In patients of PTSD, night terrors usually lead to violent outbursts in real life. I don''t know if it happened to you before this experiment, but for now, it has not happened. Keep a close eye on that. I will speak to Sebastian as well." Then he paused.

    "I know, it''s unconventional." Granted, I had no other option. "I want to recover quickly. I feel safe with him and he understands me explicitly."

    "You have a very trusting rtionship. I don''t mean to pry but are you in a romantic rtionship?" he asked bluntly. I gawked and shook my head quickly.

    "I don''t think I am capable of love, first of all. Secondly, Sebastian is not someone who considers rtionships," I told him clearly.

    "I''ll have to ask you to exin that," hemented, cing his chin in his palm as he waited for me to speak.

    "Which part?" I asked.

    "Both," he demanded. "Actually, start with the second. The first one needs a long conversation."

    "You know Sebastian. He is a very rational person. He looks at other humans like people under microscopes. In my opinion, he has no such thoughts about me. I don''t know about other women, but definitely not me." I scrunched my brow as I remembered.

    "Does that displease you?" he asked frankly.

    "Sorry?" I said too quickly.

    "The fact that he doesn''t like you romantically, does that bother you?" I shook my head.

    "No, it''s just that... He treats me differently. He is patient and gives me more space to grow. He helps me in every way possible. At times, it can be confusing." I stopped the thought.

    "Give me one example," Dr. Knight asked.

    "Uh, we went to watch a magic show. It was really crowded and he held my hand. I protested and told him someone might see but he didn''t bother." I shrugged. "I know that he doesn''t think of physical contact in such a way, but I studynguages and interaction. For someone like me, an anomaly like him is perplexing."

    "What does the way he interact with you tell you? If he was not an anomaly, that is," Dr. Knight corrected quickly.

    "That he was attracted to me," I replied frankly.

    "And you think that conclusion is not correct because Sebastian is different, is that right?"

    I nodded, now confused about where this conversation was heading.

    "So, he shows signs of affection and protectiveness towards you. He is eager to teach you and is patient even when you are slow. But because you don''t consider him like other people, you have concluded that he doesn''t like you." He nodded sagely.

    I began to doubt how I should reply.

    "I don''t see where this is headed," I admitted.

    "What if... What if Sebastian is not an anomaly?" He paused, raising his hand when he saw I was about to interject. "Sebastian is not a man who disregards such signs. He studies psychology and people. He is unable to emote well, but he is just like everyone else."

    I thought about that for a second. "So, you think he likes me or something? Subconsciously?"

    "I won''t say I know what he feels. But an intelligent man like Sebastian doesn''t leave clues. If he leaves clues..." he trailed off with a smile.

 Chapter 99: Confirmation Bias

    Chapter 99: Confirmation Bias

    "But that is not the point. Is it?" He tilted his head in amusement.

    "Then what is the point?" I asked, bewildered. The words he was saying weren''t making much sense at that moment, and I had to ruminate over them for a long time before I could fully grasp them.

    "He can''t like you, right?" He stated. I scrunched my brow. It made sense.

    "It''s not logical for him to like me," I stated in agreement. Dr. Knight stifled his smile and appeared serious. "What? Impart your knowledge on me."

    "You''re a very logical person, aren''t you?"

    "I would like to think so," I hesitated to answer.

    "But what if what you are calling logic is based on statements and ''facts'' that can''t be proven. Or worse, you are falling back on patterns and histories to draw conclusions."

    "But that is the basis of finding meaning in things," I argued, lightly.

    "Not when you are prejudiced. Do you know what that is called?"

    "Confirmation bias," I grumbled. "What I have confirmation bias? What I am biased against?"

    He looked at me incredulously. "You''re an exceptionally intelligent girl, do I need to tell you? Who do you hate most on the, Evie?" Well, that was an odd question. I had never ''hated'' anyone. I strongly disliked them, I felt disgusted towards them, but I didn''t hate anyone.

    "I don''t think I have ever hated anyone," I murmured. He nodded.

    "Let me change my question, then. Who do you like the least on this?" He asked.

    "Well, logically, if I add up thepetitors that pertain to the present conversation, I suppose it would be me." I sighed. "I get it. I am biased against me. But I wonder if someone as fucked up as me can afford to be in a rtionship with someone." I looked up at the ceiling.

    "Why not?" he prompted.

    "It won''t work out. My habits, my personality... I am meant to live alone, I havee to ept that. It is difficult for people to ept what happened to me or how that changed me. People call me reckless or stupid for not fearing anything, but that is how I am. I enjoy the freedom of life, I wish to live to the fullest without any constraints and I am not scared of much because I have already been on the brink of death. The pain I felt can''t be trumped."

    "But what if someone fully embraced your difficult personality. Would you give them a chance?" Now, that was a question worth thinking about. If it were someone else, they would have taken long to answer, but I knew what this meant.

    "No," I replied promptly.

    "Why is that?" he pressed gently.

    "A number of things," I admitted. "I don''t want to be bogged down by a rtionship and feel powerless," I started slowly. "I don''t want to see someone suffer because of my personality."

    Dr. Knight scooted his revolving chair and ced himself beside me.

    "What I heard was you feeling powerless because you don''t think you can protect them from what you think is chasing you. You are distancing yourself from others because you constantly think something bad will happen to them if they get close to you. Yes, you don''t want them to suffer because of you. But it is not just your personality." He pressed his hand on my knee. It did not feelfortable. I flinched and tightened my fist.

    "Then what?" I asked.

    "Evie, what happens when I touch you?" he asked. The words sounded wrong at first but I recovered and understood his meaning.

    "I don''t like people touching me," I admitted. "But it is not bad." Lie.

    "Why do you not like being touched?" He made no sign that he was going to reveal my lie.

    "Everyone has their preferences. I just don''t like contact," I shrugged.

    "So, if I touched you like this, you won''t avoid me, right?" He ced another hand on my knee. I flinched but held ground. "You''ve been honest with me so far, Evie. Don''t start lying to me now," he said firmly.

    It was the first time I had heard him this serious.

    "I trust you, therefore I will not pull away. But I am not particrly happy with this situation," I grumbled.

    Dr. Knight removed his hand and leaned back against the chair. "There you go. That''s all I needed to know." He smiled in approval and encouragement. "I saw you avoiding contact with every person in the waiting room. The space in the corridor was small, but you still managed to stick to the wall to avoid contact."

    "Nothing misses your eye, does it?" I chuckled.

    "Then? Why do you dislike being touched? Exin your thought to me. Imagine, someone you don''t know touching you. What thoughts pass your head?"

    I paused and thought back to the asions where someone had tried to hug me or touched me by ident. "A fear of pain. I fear that their touch will be malicious. I am sure it has something to do with my hypervignce. When I settle in a crowded room, everyone seems threatening. I am constantly thinking about escaping the space. Moreover, the fear that they are out to hurt me makes me hate their touch."

    My thoughts assimted.

    "Good. Then, you know. Anything else?" he asked. I shook my head, unable to think of anything else. "Then I will exin it to you. First, you suffer from magical thinking. Magical thinking is when you assign a set event to take ce if you do something. Like some people eat the same food over and over again to bring themselves luck before an exam or big life event. Simrly, you believe that if you get close to someone, they will die. Much like a curse. Maybe you think you will be the one to hurt them or someone will hurt them because of your association, but it is an irrational fear that you hold in your heart." He paused, looking at me for consent to proceed.

    I nodded.

    "Second, you fear intimacy. The touch from another human equates to them inflicting pain on you in your mind. Therefore, you are afraid. A rtionship makes you open and vulnerable to another person. When you are even scared of a harmless stranger, imagine beingpletely vulnerable in front of a person who can do anything they want to you in your most private moment." My eyes widened.

    "Third, you hate yourself. You think of yourself as a monster. We have already covered this so I will focus on the first two and get to this. We will get you through this."

    I nodded. "Dr. Knight, I am not sure if you are trying to help or scare me away from rtionships at this point." I gave him a small smile.

    "I amying out your own fears in front of you. What you make of them is up to you. However, it is my job to make you see that there is another way of thinking." He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "To get over magical thinking, jump into it. Get close to someone and see if they get hurt. If your brain sees small incidents that are pure coincidences as proof for your magical thinking, stop yourself. Think about it from a scientific perspective. Use math if you will."

    I chuckled. "Understood. So, jump into making a connection to a fellow human." That was certainly one hard homework.

    "If it were someone else, they would think I was telling them to jump into a rtionship or something. d to know you are not like the other monkeys," he joked. I pointed towards the file with mirth. "Yes, you already proved yourself."

    "Thank you," I chirped.

    "As for your fear of intimacy. Desensitization is the best way. Again, you need to jump into it and see. Does the touch of another person really hurt? Start with someone you trust and then slowly expand it. When was thest time you hugged someone on your own ord?" he asked.

    "Not since Alicia took me," I reported.

    "Okay, try to start with a handshake. I don''t want you overwhelmed." He gave me a piercing look. "And three. Evie, you are not a monster. I can tell you this."

    "How do you know?" this made my stomach tighten with panic. "I thought about hurting people." I grimaced.

    "Tell me the situation," he prompted.

    "We were tracking down a serial killer and when I entered his house, I felt rage. I couldn''t contain it. I could see he wanted to kill himself but he didn''t have the right to. He had hurt so many people. I actually ran after him and caught him. As I held him down, I had the urge to just end him." I gasped.

    It was not one of my finest moments.

    "Well, did you hurt him?" he asked.

    "No. I held him down and snapped out of it. The police cuffed him and took him away but I was so horrified by my thoughts that I couldn''t control my body."

    Dr. Knight pped his hand on the table. "You did not act on your thoughts. That is what separates you from a murderer. Even if you had the thought, it was so horrifying to you that you couldn''t believe it. You are not a psychopath like you believe, Evie. If you were one you wouldn''t feel this guilt. You would never pin yourself as a murderer or think it was wrong. I have met such individuals and let me tell you, you are nothing like them."

    I gaped at him. "But aren''t psychopaths and sociopaths charming and maniptive?" Dr. Knight nodded. "Then how do you tell if they are lying or not?"

    "Experience, Evie," he stated. "Just like you are good at your job because of your experience, I am good at mine because I have relevant experience."

    "So, if someone tried to dupe you into believing they were insane to get out of trouble, you would find them?" I asked. He nodded.

    "But that doesn''t mean they are mentally fine. If they are lying and manipting to get out of trouble or mimicking a disease, they have other mental conditions that need to be addressed." He winked.

    "So," I looked up at the watch and said. "Our time seems to be up." Dr. Knight nodded.

    "What do you think your homework is?" Dr. Knight asked.

    "Break the pattern of my thoughts and write them down. The ones thate to me repetitively need to be addressed. I also need to venture into facing my fears." He nodded.

    "Also, about Sebastian. What are you going to do?" I shrugged.

    "I may understand what you are saying but I don''t believe it." I winked. "But you already knew that, didn''t you? So, I will take it slowly. Don''t worry, I''m good at separating my work from my personal life."

    "Sure," Dr. Knight burst out intoughter. I gave him a mock frown and shook my head before bidding goodbye.

 Chapter 100: Lead a Normal Life

    Chapter 100: Lead a Normal Life

    I went home feeling tired from the day. I cursed myself as I entered my apartment and felt like just slumping down on the bed. I nced at the clock and realized that there were a few more hours until bedtime, so I sat down to study.

    Around ten at night, the doorbell rang. I expected him toe over, so I trudged to the door and opened it without thinking. Sebastian had Sheng Sheng tucked under his arm and looked rather exhausted himself. He didn''t greet me. Instead, he brushed past me and into the apartment like he owned the ce.

    I cursed under my breath as I remembered Dr. Knight''s words before mming the door shut.

    "Why do you look like that?" I asked.

    He turned to me with disappointment clear in his eyes. "Dean filed for bail but the court rejected it." I sighed in relief. "They actually got a very goodwyer. They''ve asked for the interrogation tape and everything, so I fear they will try to tear apart whatever tactics we used."

    I frowned. Suddenly, I understood what it meant. "Isn''t that what always happens?" I asked.

    "Yeah, but it was your first time. I fear what questions they will bring up for you," he grumbled.

    "So much for your faith in me. I might not have been taken to court, but I am sure you know how well I can talk." I smiled as I sat beside him and watched him. His tie was hanging loosely from his neck and his shirt was unbuttoned. I could see a sliver of skin peeking out and looked away.

    "What''s wrong?" he asked. I could hear the confusion in his voice.

    "No, I just returned from my session with Dr. Knight. We had some eye-opening conversations," I shrugged. I was itching to ask him if it were true. But I was also scared of how he would reply. Rejection would be awkward. We worked together and having a rtionship between us could beplicated.

    "You clearly have something to say," he pressed. "When did you start holding back from me?" he chuckled.

    "Oh, it''s nothing," I waved it off.

    "You spoke about me," he concluded. I looked at him with no expression, so that he wouldn''t guess what about. "What did you two talk about?"

    I was about to speak when he interjected. "About me. What about me?"

    I shook my head. "Nothing about you," I lied. He squinted at me.

    "Lying is a bad habit, Evie. I can read you like an open book. What? Was it about the two of us sleeping together? Did he talk you off for mixing pleasure and business?" I guffawed.

    "Pleasure?" I said in sarcasm. "I don''t know what you mean by that." Rolling my eyes, I stood up.

    "Well, physically, you can''t call us sleeping together pleasurable, but you do get the honor of sleeping beside me. No one has had that opportunity. You should feel happy," he joked.

    I stared at me. "You''ve never slept beside anyone?" I squeaked. He looked at me weirdly.

    "No, I think I slept beside my mom when I was younger, but I slept alone ever since." He paused and looked at me with worry. "Did you sleep with other people before?" He looked me over. "With your anxiety and caution, I can''t see you sleeping beside people and actually getting any sleep."

    I pressed my lips together. "I look like someone who has never been in a rtionship, don''t I?" I scratched my neck.

    "Nothing wrong with that. I look the same."

    "Strange," I looked at him curiously. "Why did you never get a girlfriend?"

    "I never liked anyone in that capacity."

    "So, you went to college and studied with the brightest mind and never felt attracted to someone''s intelligence?" I found it hard to believe. "You really don''t know such human emotions?" I had to admit, this conversation was purely based on the fact that I had to disprove Dr. Knight''s hypothesis.

    "It''s not that I wasn''t interested in intelligent people but I know the distinction between being curious and feeling genuine affection for someone. I don''t get carried away by lust be it bodily or psychological." He turned to me. "I know human emotions the best. Therefore, I know what I want."

    Well, I supposed that would prove it. I smiled. "Good to know."

    I turned to leave and heard him grumbling in the background.

    "It seems you spoke about my rtionships, too. How strange." I froze.

    "Don''t try to analyze me. It won''t work." I scurried off to the kitchen to prepare food for Sheng Sheng. When I came out, he stared at me.

    "I could ask, but that would be breaching confidentiality. I would rather you told me." He seemed more curious than I had ever seen him. He could probably guess what this was about.

    "We spoke about if sleeping together would change the nature of our rtionship. I told him that was not possible."

    "Why?" he asked, dumbfounded.

    "As you said, you are not someone who gets carried away by emotions. You understand what you are feeling and can distinguish them. So..." I trailed off.

    "I know how to distinguish them but I am not a stone." He rolled his eyes. I was taken aback.

    "Well, I will be treating you like a stone because I need to learn how to ept the touch of others." There wasplete silence.

    "ept the touch of others? Why does that sound so lewd..." He shook his head in disgust.

    "Yes, it is part of my homework. Holding your hand while we sleep might be too much, so I will start with just getting used to being in close proximity to you for now." I felt proud of myself.

    "Well, you do ce things between us when we sit. You also run away from my touch a lot. I guess it''s part of your symptoms." He smiled. "Well, I''ll help you out."

    "Well, you''re one of the very few people I trust, so I will start with you. Maybe walking on the street will get easier." I grinned with anticipation. "Maybe I can lead a normal life like other people." I could only wonder. Was that life really possible for me? Maybe... I dared to hope.

    "What does normal mean for you?" he asked softly.

    "Sharing my life with people, not being scared..."

    "No one is normal, Evie. What you live is normal life for you. People put on facades to seem like they fit into perfect little boxes, but in reality, everyone is struggling with their demons. Your goal should be to live freely like you want to without the constraints of the voices in your head." He ced his hand on my head.

    I froze for a slight moment before easing into his touch. It wasn''t as bad as Dr. Knight. I could guess it was because I trusted Sebastian explicitly.

    "This process of desensitization should work well." I nodded and grabbed his wrist. "What do you want to eat?" I asked. He blinked.

    "I don''t want to cook." He said inly. "It''s already sote. You shouldn''t cook either. Want to order something?"

    "I suppose both of us are tired. Ordering out is okay... but the ce needs to be sanitary, vegetarian and up to my standards," I said firmly. He nodded.

    "I have just the ce." He grabbed his cellphone and dialed a number. He was talking on the phone and he turned to me.

    "What do you want?" he asked.

    "I don''t know what restaurant you are ordering from," I replied. He furrowed his brow and rattled off the names of the dishes.

    "I don''t know. You choose." His expression froze. He said something and I frowned. "Not that. Anything else?" He had a helpless expression on his face.

    Finally, the order was ced. He hung up. "It should arrive in thirty minutes," he told me. "By the way, I thought you would be different, but you''re not. People grumble about women telling them to choose and then vetoing their choice. I never thought you would fall in that."

    I was stumped for words. "I am not sure what you are talking about." I scoffed. "You didn''t even tell me what cuisine we were having. You were really thoughtless in this event." I sounded like I was scolding.

    "Is this our first disagreement?" he asked, looking bewildered.

    "I''m sure we have argued before," Imented.

    "No. We have not. This is our first argument." He suddenly looked delighted.

    "I have never heard anyone look so happy about having a disagreement." What a weird alien.

    "I''ll have to excuse myself. You''re opening up to me. Your dreams of being a normal person with normal rtionships mighte true earlier than you anticipate." He messed up my hair and then moved away quickly. "Ah! I see the irritation in your eyes, too. Evie, I think you will be just fine."

    "You''re really strange," Imented.

    "I figured out what you talked about. That''s why I am being strange." I froze.

 Chapter 101: Considering My Feelings

    Chapter 101: Considering My Feelings

    "What do you think we spoke about?" I challenged. I didn''t know why I did it. I knew better than to bring this conversation up when I couldn''t handle getting the answers.

    "You were confused about why I treat you so well but you also thought that it was impossible." He stared at me intently.

    "I don''t know what you are talking about."

    "You know very well what I am talking about, Evie. Yourck of pride in yourself is really hindering your judgment in this case. You are beyond charming. Even your sharp tongue is something that attracts people to you. You should be more confident in yourself. I can tell you the names of every student in the sses you sit in on that are dying to ask you out but are afraid that I will hunt them down."

    I red at him as he chuckled.

    "Why would they think you will hunt them down?" I rolled my eyes. "You might be scary, but you won''t kill anyone. Everyone knows that." I smiled.

    "Because I told them explicitly that it was out of the question." Heid back and looked at me from under hisshes. Where had he learned to make this coy expression?

    "You''re really weird," I grumbled.

    He started to give me a list of students who liked me. "I catch them ncing at you in ss all the time." I frowned.

    "You ask them a lot of questions, too." Surely, they weren''t paying attention in ss.

    "I don''t care if they pay attention in ss or not. They can learn these things from books or wherever they want. It''s their exams, not mine. It''s not because of that." He gave me a pointed look.

    "Don''t avoid the answer," I huffed.

    "You have their numbers, don''t you? Why don''t you ask them personally?" He shrugged.

    "And talk to the people who you deem like me? Don''t you know men think you are interested if you call them?" I shook my head.

    "No, they don''t. Not when you ask about another man. That puts them in the friendzone. Try it." His eyes zed.

    "How do you know that?" I scoffed.

    "You kept talking about a future boyfriend and living with them, so I felt it firsthand. I had been friend-zoned very badly." I burst intoughter.

    "What? Do you like me?" Was I supposed to believe that?

    "I don''t think you are ready to find the answer out," he replied. "You don''t think it is possible, so nothing I tell you will make you believe me." That indicated that he did have feelings for me. Or, he was just reiterating what Dr. Knight had said.

    "Sebastian, I asked you a question," I said firmly. "I don''t like not knowing things and being confused." I pleaded with him with my eyes.

    "Why are you confused, Evie? Did you not know I was pursuing you?" he asked incredulously. I gaped at him. "You know I never lie, Evie. So, you must think carefully." He sat back and watched as I fought against my irrational thoughts.

    Indeed, he did not lie, but what if he was mistaken? Was it admiration for a student or pity for what I had gone through? It could be. But then, I knew how rational this man was. He knew well enough the difference between those feelings and he must have confirmed them before he spoke a word of it or acted out on it.

    But the words came out anyway. "What if you feel bad as an investigator in the case? You saw me first-hand and felt that you had somehow not helped."

    "Well, is that what you hope, Evie?" he asked, softly. He was not offended. Instead, he was patient and understanding. "See? You are not ready to face it. Dr. Knight wanted you to go through those exercises so that you could ept yourself and another person in your life."

    "You are part of my life, Sebastian." And it scared the living shit out of me. "You work a dangerous job. And I work a dangerous job. I have let you into my life without thinking about it heading towards a permanent and romantic rtionship. But you... you are breaking everything."

    Sebastian raised his hand to stop me. "Now, revisit the words you just said. Those sentences have nothing to do with one another," he said, pressing his lips together. "Your first concern is our safety. I will have you know that I can fight very well. From the moment I wanted to join this profession, I knew the risks and I trained for it. Part of my job is to remain safe."

    "As for your safety, I will not im to protect you at all times. I don''t know what the future holds. But I have faith in you and your skills, Evie. You can protect yourself. But if therees a day that you are in danger, I will leave no stone unturned."

    "My father thought he was safe, too, you know?" I replied bitterly.

    "I am not your father, Evie." He sounded angry. "You want to be sure that nothing will harm me or you? Okay, let''s go spar every day and train until no one can take us down." He stopped. "But if you are scared of death, Evie... nothing can stop it. We might die in our sleep simply because our heart stopped or there might be an earthquake tomorrow. There is nothing we can do about it. The best we can do is prepare diligently and try our best."

    "I can''t answer you..." I responded finally.

    "I don''t want you to answer me, Evie. I don''t mind staying here and helping you. I didn''t expect anything in return. I confused you and you thought that I had no romantic feelings, maybe it is because I am not good atmunicating them." I stopped him.

    "No, it''s me," I said quickly. "I''m sorry. I... I am just not ready for a rtionship."

    Sebastian nodded in understanding. "Yes, you should focus solely on yourself. If you need help with physical contact or the need to feel protected, I will be right here." He shrugged. "As a matter of fact, why don''t we draw boundaries from this moment forth?" His eyes glittered with enthusiasm.

    "Boundaries?" I asked, confused.

    "Yes, what kind of touch are youfortable with. How frequently do you want to set this? Do you want to follow a routine? Things of this nature," he exined.

    "I don''t know." I was more confused than ever. "I just want to be able to differentiate between good touch and bad touch. I don''t want to think that every touch will hurt me somehow," I admitted, my voice a whisper.

    He thought for a moment. "How about this?" he spoke out after a few minutes of silence. "You can touch me and initiate contact whenever you want."

    "And what does that entail?" I asked. Suddenly, I felt amused by the whole situation.

    "Anything you arefortable with. Whatever you feel like in the moment. Even if you just want to sit beside me, you don''t need to be afraid. You can approach me as slowly or as fast as you wish, I won''t deter you in any way." That made sense. But my imagination flew. He was giving me leeway to do anything to him. If I were wicked, I would take full advantage of it.

    "But if I have to touch you in any way, for example, ruffle your hair or hold your hand when we cross the street, I will take your explicit consent beforehand." I smiled.

    "Thank you for considering my feelings with such detail." It was apliment. "You don''t need to worry about idental touches or touching me if I am having a nightmare of breakdown." I paused and looked at his expression. How had I gotten so lucky to meet someone this good?

    I would hate to ruin this. I stopped myself there.

    "I will have you know that I am not repulsed by your touch." The statement was braveing from me. "But I appreciate how much you care about me." I was yet to ept that he had any romantic feelings towards me. Sebastian didn''t lie, but I lied to myself all the time.

    Lying to myself was so much better thaning to a conclusion about how our rtionship was going to look like. When I got better and deemed myself worthy of affection, I would reconsider this topic.

    "I''m d I am not repulsive," he chuckled. He was about to pat my shoulder but he stopped mid-air and retreated his hand. "Can I pat your shoulder?" he asked.

    I nodded and broke into augh once again. He enthusiastically patted me, almost making me stumble with his force. "Careful, you got really excited by this little contact."

    He shook his head. "Oh no. I am just d that I can touch you without making you ufortable. I hated it when I saw you freeze up. Your palms got all sweaty when I held your hands, too. It''s not nice when someone you like retreats from your touch."

    He pushed a hand through his hair. He was saved from embarrassment by the doorbell.

 Chapter 102: Closing the Distance

    Chapter 102: Closing the Distance

    I rushed to open the door and found the delivery boy standing outside, looking utterly bored.

    "Hi, sorry for taking so much time. How much is it?" I asked. I heard Sebastian''s footsteps approaching me and looked over my shoulder. "What?" I asked, perplexed.

    "I am paying," he informed me. "How much is it?" he asked again with a smile on his face. The boy looked up and said the amount. Sebastian pulled out his wallet and paid for the food. I took the packet from the man and smiled.

    "Thanks for the tip, man. Have a great time with your girl!" he cheered and giddily walked away. I turned to re at Sebastian.

    "Why didn''t you let me pay?" I asked him seriously.

    "I make more money than you. I mooch off your groceries all the time, so it is only right that I pay back somehow. I have used my body and intelligence so far, but that isn''t sufficient. You are taking the brunt of our financial burden." He took the packet of food from me and scurried away into the kitchen.

    "Are you rubbing it in?" I called after him. He lookedpletely embarrassed by our conversation, so I didn''t want to tease him too much.

    "For your age, you get a very good sry. As you slowly grow older, your sry will increase. Don''t worry about it," he replied from the kitchen. He was already transferring the food onto the tes. I peered over his shoulder and saw that he was delicately decorating the te to maximize how nice it looked.

    "What are you doing?" I asked, trying to bite back myugh.

    "We rarely eat outside and it is hard for you to dine at a restaurant, so I want to give you the firsthand experience without having to go out and be around people." I rolled my eye.

    "Don''t treat me like an invalid. I traveled far and wide for my trantion gigs. I am okay with eating food outside. It is you who freaks out over cleanliness and service." I patted his back. "Bring the food in. I''ll clear the table."

    I put away the papers and waited for him to slowly ce everything on the desk. I was looking at a message from a student and remembered what Sebastian had told me. Apparently, this student had a crush on me. I smirked and looked back at the other messages. Indeed, he did message me a lot, but nothing untoward to show me what Sebastian was iming was true.

    Thest of the tes were ced and Sebastian huffed as he sat beside me.

    "What do you want to watch?" I asked, pointing towards theptop.

    "I mostly watch documentaries," he said, shrugging. I tossed him a smile.

    "Let me show you some crime thrillers, then." I giggled as I pulled up the website and searched for some foreign crime thrillers to look at. "Promise to not nitpick at the story." I wagged my finger at him and he grimaced.

    "I can''t promise to do that," he said frankly.

    "Try," I urged.

    He nodded and looked at theptop screen. I opened the first episode. I had watched it before I decided to be Sebastian''s assistant. I knew it was fiction, but it gave me some insight into what to expect. It was a differentnguage, so Sebastian was focusing on the subtitles. His eyes flitted between the face of the characters and the subtitles below.

    He was going to be so tired after watching this. I slowly munched on the vegetable wrap and watched his face. He was very confused in the beginning and then horrified.

    "They are not wearing gloves in the crime scene!" he yelled, appalled.

    "Yes, they aren''t wearing biohazard gear for all the bodily fluids that you see in the room either," I fuelled the fire. He nodded vigorously and stared, his food forgotten. Feeling sorry for him, I pushed a piece of wrap in front of his mouth. His eyes flickered to it and then he opened his mouth, beckoning me to put it in.

    I took upon myself the role of the personal feeder and let him nibble at the wrap and move his face away when he wanted to watch the screen intently.

    As I watched him, I wondered if the stuttering of my heartbeat or thefort and warmth I felt around him meant I liked him. For someone who imed to be good atmunicating and helping Sebastian connect to other humans, I felt like I was the onecking in skills.

    I hated mulling over things and not knowing. The hunger to know the answer made me ache. So, I wondered how I would find out. Not that I could do anything apart from acknowledging his emotions and mine. I couldn''t be in a rtionship.

    Someone like me... someone so broken didn''t deserve to be beside someone who is sacrificing not only their time but also their emotions to make me feel better. I couldn''t promise him happiness. Instead, I could promise him misery and misfortune. In this case, how could I have the right to answer my own question?

    I was being selfish when I said I wanted to find out if I liked him. My next move to prove or disprove my hypothesis would give him false hope. I didn''t want to see that in his eyes.

    Such a brilliant man whose eyes glittered with intelligence and self-confidence shouldn''t be confused and misled. But he was also an intelligent man. He would know... Surely he would know I was just trying to get my answers.

    He had already told me that I could do with him as I wished. He had known what I could do and he had left himself vulnerable to my explorations.

    I felt wretched. As he sat elbow to elbow, I peered at him. His food was forgotten and it was growing cold. He had barely eaten and I had already finished my portion of the food. I took the tes and ced them on a single te before heating. I ced the food back in front of him and shook his shoulder.

    "Finish your food first. You can watch it any time you want." He was actually grumbling under his breath about how unprofessional everything was. "Don''t watch it if you are bothered," Imented. He gave me a fleeting look and smiled.

    "Well, it''s a train wreck. I can''t look away." I ced myself beside him and searched on my phone. The more I read, the more confident I became.

    I was going to be selfish. I was going to be selfish. I deserved it.

    I tried to tell myself this over and over again. I went to bed earlier than Sebastian. He watched a couple of more episodes before washing up and settling beside me. I had earphones in and pretended not to notice when the bed dipped beside me.

    For the next ten minutes, weid in silence, not saying a word. Finally, I did what I wanted to do. Dr. Knight had mentioned that being close to someone when I slept could help ward off the demons, so I inched my fingers towards his. My head was turned towards him, my ears filled with loud music so that I wouldn''t feel embarrassed about what I was doing.

    He raised his head and nced towards my hand. He dropped it immediately and looked away. Possibly, he wanted to show that he was not seeing and that I could grab his hand as I wished. I took the leap of faith and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer.

    "Just sleep," I said and nothing more. I didn''t hear the response but the next time I looked over, his eyes were closed and his breathing even. I slid my hand out of his and propped myself on my elbows to watch his face. As I watched his slightly parted lips and the curve of his brow, I wondered.

    I wondered if it would be possible for me to live away from this man. If it ever came to that and I never saw this man again, I would miss him terribly. I would think about him too often and all the time. I would feel a little empty when I would see others on the street and wonder if I would be able to connect to anyone like I did this man.

    It seemed, that even if he were happy away from me. Even if I were happy away from him, I would have to choose to stay by his side. At least, if we were miserable, we could be together. Would it be best to leave his side and never turn back, especially now that I knew how he felt? Yes.

    But he had also been the man who had pulled me out of the darkness that threatened to engulf me. He had been the one to stand behind me, not letting the wind and pressure from swaying me. We were not miserable. No, we were not together. No, I didn''t know if I liked him. But if I did. Would anything really change?

    I crawled closed to him, my face hovering over his and my eyes nted on his lips. Should I dare? Should I?

    "Are you sure?" I heard his voice suddenly. I startled but remained in my ce.

    "I don''t know," I responded in a whisper.

    "What''s holding you back?"

    "I don''t want to be selfish and make you miserable." Please, let him not be miserable. "I want to know..." I trailed off, unable to tell him that I only wanted to confirm my feelings but wasn''t ready tomit to it.

    "Be selfish, Evie. If you don''t think only about yourself. No one will." His eyes remained closed. I appreciated the gesture too much.

    "And you?" I asked, pain crawling into my voice.

    "We''ve lived our lives logically, never taking a step out of our calctions. Sometimes I wonder if I should just do something out of instinct. If it didn''t work out, we could just forget and go back to our conclusion. Or we could try another approach to get the same result." He exined.

    "During experiments, when you have an intended answer you want and you don''t get it, you don''t change your thesis, you just change the method by which you are carrying out your experiment. I don''t see why this method is any less effective than another. If this helps us reach the intended result, I am willing to try it." His confidence and persuasive speech made me feel less anxious.

    "And what is the intended answer that you are looking for?" I asked.

    "That you are healthy and doing what you want in your life. It would be an added bonus if I could stay by your side forever." I stared at his face for a few seconds before cing my palm on his cheek and slowly closing the distance between our lips.

    Anxiety be damned. Sometimes, one just needed to jump.

 Chapter 103: An Impulsive Kiss

    Chapter 103: An Impulsive Kiss

    The kiss started off innocently enough. I trapped him under me, my lips lingering on the corner of his mouth. He remained frozen in his spot and I felt a sliver of disappointment pass through me. I pulled away and looked at his face. His eyes were screwed shut and his fists at his side.

    I suddenly understood what he meant when he said it was upsetting when I froze up under his touch. I pulled my palm away from his cheek and guided it to his fist. With a pull, I wound his hand around my waist and pressed my lips on his once again.

    It took him a few seconds to understand what I was trying to say. He gripped my waist and pulled me in, kissing me like he was meant to. There were many of them and they were feather-light and wet. They felt like little bug bites with a soft touch instead of a sting or a pinch I had expected. I heard a muffled moan and pried my eyes open.

    The room suddenly appeared pitch ck, not allowing me to make out my surroundings. I couldn''t see his face either. The moment of panic should have set in, but I felt oddly wee and safe. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I felt the warm weight of his hands on my waist and the feeling of his strong legs under mine.

    He pulled away and stared. "Satisfied?" he asked with a small smile. I shook my head thoughtfully. "You haven''t confirmed yet?" he murmured in a quiet voice. He pushed my hair aside, and I delt more bites continue to go from my lips to the sensitive skin of my neck. He spread his legs and rolled us over.

    Iy, bbergasted as he pulled away and smirked. "Time to sleep," he whispered into my ear and pushed away from me. His hand left my waist and he sat to the side. He pulled up the nket and wrapped me into a burrito.

    I could see that his body wracked with a shuddering breath and I couldn''t help but notice more.

    Where did he learn it? I had to ask. "How do you kiss so well?" I asked.

    "I learned in my spare time," he admitted freely. When I didn''t reply, he nced at me and exined. "You can watch courses on the inte. Don''t ask. I was curious." He groaned again, his hand craddling his head as he mumbled something under his breath.

    "I''m sorry," I whispered, sure that he didn''t like it. His head snapped to me and he shook his head vigorously.

    "You have nothing to be sorry about," he said vehemently. "It''s my first time, so I stopped before I did something bad." I frowned.

    "Bad?" I asked.

    "Yes, I don''t want to start anything on my own ord when you are still figuring out your feelings and boundaries. It was wrong of me to..." I could hear what came next. He was sorry for kissing me so passionately.

    I liked it though. I enjoyed it too much and now I was feeling a little bit of anticipation. He had been confident once I assured him it was okay and I was hoping he wouldn''t regret it. I really hoped he wouldn''t regret it.

    "Do you regret it?" I asked in a small voice.

    "No. Absolutely not. I want to kiss you. All the time, really."

    "I didn''t know that," I mentioned. "I''m d I wasn''t the only one who enjoyed it." I chuckled nervously.

    "I enjoyed it a little too much if you ask me." He chuckled.

    He settled down on the bed and I waited for signs of happiness to bloom. A small smile had crawled on his lips and his eyes had small folds on the side. He liked it, I told myself in an unbiased manner.

    It was hard for me to believe, but he liked it. That''s what Dr. Knight had asked me to do.

    I wasn''t sure Dr. Knight would appreciate me jumping into the act when I returned home, but I did what I instinctively wanted to. I wriggled to get the cover out from under my sides and scooted closer to him.

    "Sorry, can I hold your hand as I sleep?"

    He looked at me with pure terror. "Aren''t you scared I will misunderstand and take advantage of you?"

    "Absolutely not. I have faith in your integrity," I smiled. I wrapped my fingers around his and turned to face him. The chill of the room faded away and I found my eyes getting heavier. He looked at me incredulously but didn''t say a word.

    After a while, I heard him murmur. "Sleep." I didn''t need to be told twice.

    I woke up in a haze of warmth. I could feel my hands wrapped around something hard but the smell of mint and something else made me snuggle in closer. The object stiffened, making me know that it was not inanimate. But from how lifelessly ity in my grasp, I didn''t think it was alive and well. I squinted as light invaded my senses and turned away into the bed.

    "Wake up," Sebastian said, his guttural voice shocking me. I pushed my head up, hitting what seemed to be his chin, and quickly rolled away when the top of my head was invaded by a sharp pain.

    When I looked over, I could see him clutching his chin and a look of pain in his eyes.

    "Sorry, I was surprised," I apologized quickly. He nodded and slid out of the bed. As he walked away, Iy mortified. The kiss had been impulsive, the holding of hands intentional, but my body had betrayed all sense and shifted close enough to him during my sleep.

    I had not slept with someone for so long that I didn''t know my sleeping habits. When I was younger, I would snuggle into my mother or father when I had nightmares and they would have to wake me up in the middle of the night because I was wrapped around them like an octopus and they could hardly breathe.

 Chapter 104: Talk to a Friend

    Chapter 104: Talk to a Friend

    Sebastian had fled to the bathroom and didn''t return until fifteen minutester. He was buttoning up his shirt at the corner of the room and watching me closely. I pulled the cover up to hide my lips and tried to ignore his gaze on me.

    "Are you trying to unsettle me?" I asked.

    "Not even in my dreams would I think I could unsettle or frighten you." He shook his head. "I''m looking at you and trying to think."

    I red at him and slowly pushed the cover down. "Is that so?" I slid out of bed.

    "We''re gettingte," he told me. "Rush or we will bete for the first ss." I hastily went to the bathroom and got ready.

    "Next time," he said suddenly as we pulled out of the parking spot. "Next time when you want to kiss me or do anything scandalous, could you do it out of bed?" he pled.

    My mouth hung open in shock. "What? I thought you were rational and knew how to stow down your excitement and lust," I said hurriedly.

    "Yes, but when ites to you and the bed... I didn''t think it would be this grave." He huffed.

    "You learned how to kiss on the inte, you didn''t think it would be a small peck or something, right?" I asked, shocked.

    "I thought you were pure, but you turned out to be lusty. Lusting for my body!" he argued.

    "Lusting for your body!" I eximed. "That''s how grownups kiss. Not my fault you liked it too much." I rolled my eyes.

    "You''re supposed to enjoy when someone you like kisses you on their own ord. It usually means that they like you too." He spared me a nce. "Don''t feel pressured. As long as you are experimenting on me and not going around kissing random men to find out how you feel, I am okay."

    I looked out of the window, trying to hide the blush that crept up my cheeks. "I won''t go around kissing people," I hissed. I wasn''tpletely crazy.

    "No, you can do as you want. But I don''t want to freeze up or feeling wretched afterward."

    That made sense.

    "I won''t kiss others, okay?" I didn''t know it is was possible to actually like kisses, as pointless as they were. There was no outward pleasure to the whole thing, just a show of affection or intent. When I had no such intention towards anyone, why would I go around kissing people I didn''t know?

    Yes, I didn''t know any other men.

    We got out of the car at the university and Sebastian walked ahead of me. "I''ll go to the washroom," I informed him quickly and fled. The phone was pressed in my ear the moment he was out of my sight.

    Dr. Knight picked it up within two rings. "Is something wrong?" he asked, ayer of panic in his voice.

    "No. No. I have done something very wrong," I said. My breath came in short spurts.

    "What did you do?" his voice was calmer. He probably guessed that it couldn''t be anything too bad, considering I was calling him so early in the morning.

    "I kissed Sebastian," I cried. No, not tears, just the loud panicked voice one makes when they don''t know what to do.

    "When?" he asked shortly.

    "Last night. In bed." There was silence. "Uh, it didn''t go anywhere, I promise."

    "I thought you weren''t going to jump into anything." He sounded more amused than I would have liked.

    "I thought so, too. But Sebastian guessed the conversation we had and well, he said he liked me." I paused. "He said I could slowly realize how I felt about him and I was so curious that I couldn''t handle it. So I kissed him. The inte said that if I kissed someone I liked, it was good."

    "There are other ways, too, Evie," he told me.

    "I know! But those matched up but I practically see him all day long so they don''t count. So, I took a shortcut and kissed him." Again silence.

    "So, did you like it?"

    "Yes..." I sounded guilty.

    "So, what is the problem?" he asked, now sounding very confused.

    "I don''t know what to do next," I admitted.

    "Evie, do you have friends?" he asked.

    "No."

    "I think you need to have a chat with friends... not Sebastian. Someone else that you know and like. Talk to them and I am sure you will find out what to do."

    "But what of my self-esteem and inability to ept affection?" I asked, panicked.

    "I think you need to talk to someone more than talking to your therapist about it. Give it a try. Think of it as homework. You have to socialize with people anyway. Why not start today?"

    I wanted to cry. "Okay, but how do I make a friend so fast?" I asked.

    "I have not the slightest clue," he admitted. "As your therapist, I cannot help you in a professional capacity to figure out. If you were having problems epting his affection of admitting you like him, I could have done something. But you seem to be feeling awkward after epting everything. As a professional, I can''t talk to you in a friendly manner, okay?"

    "I understand," I grumbled. "I don''t have anyone to talk to, you know?" I sighed.

    "It''s okay, Evie. Start making connections. We can talk about this in the next session, too. Will you be okay until then?" he asked. I paused and thought about it.

    The feeling was not unpleasant and the awkwardness would fade if I screamed about it to the world, so I gave my answer. "Yes." We exchanged greetings and I hung up quickly.

    When I reached the professors''mon room, I saw doctor Singh sitting in the hall, sipping on coffee as he read the newspaper.

    "Evie, how are you doing this morning?" he asked with a brilliant smile.

    "Well. And you?" I asked. The bulb went off in my head. "Dr. Singh, do you consider me your friend?" I asked. He was surprised for a second before he broke into a fit ofughter.

    "Of course, Evie!" he said.

    "Do you have time during your lunch break?" I asked. He nodded pleasantly. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Sebastiane out of his office and mmed up. "Okay, you are the only one I am close with. I have important matters to discuss with you."

    "What matters?" Sebastian asked, interrupting our conversation.

 Chapter 105: Well-Concealed Secret

    Chapter 105: Well-Concealed Secret

    I looked at him and shook my head. "We''rete for ss, let''s go." Professor Singh gave me a curious look and waved goodbye.

    "What do you have to discuss?" Sebastian asked again.

    "Just doing my homework," I told him. I was not lying. Indeed, it was part of my homework, but the reason for it was entirely selfish. He hummed, even though he knew I wasn''tpletely truthful. He had been too understanding in the past few days and it was scaring me a little. The next couple of sses flew by and conversations with students took up most of my time. I barely got to see Sebastian. Therefore, I somehow didn''t feel embarrassed any longer.

    Lunch break came and I called Professor Singh. "Evie, I am in the canteen. Come join me," he chirped. I could hear the distinct noise of students surrounding him. I made sure my purse was on me before going to the canteen nearest to us.

    He waved me over and pointed towards the empty seat. A group of first-year students sat on the table, surrounding Professor Singh and asking him questions about life.

    "Come. Sit down!" he beckoned. "What do you think is the meaning of life, Evie?" he asked, sounding amused. I grinned as I sat beside a wide-eyed freshman.

    "The answer is always 42," I winked. He burst intoughter but the others seemed bewildered. I didn''t exin further, leaving it upon them to using their inte surfing skills to find out what I meant.

    "Kids, let me introduce you to the star of our department, Evie Marie Lewis."

    "Hello, I''m Dr. Butler''s assistant. You probably know me from ss." Actually, I had not seen these students in any of Sebastian''s sses. They were either absent or hadn''t taken his sses. Sebastian was notorious for being hard to please.

    She looked at the students and had to praise them for having good sense in not following the name only. It was a shame they couldn''t study in Sebastian''s ss, though. He was an excellent teacher.

    "The seniors told us that Dr. Butler is grumpy and doesn''t score well... so we didn''t take his ss, Senior." The boy beside me snickered and spared nces towards me.

    "I am not a senior in your department. I am from the Department of Foreign Languages. No need to greet me," I said politely. I had put my coat behind me and leaned back into the chair. My phone was going off and I didn''t need to look to see who it was.

    "How did you get a job working under Dr. Butler then?" Another student asked. I nced at them and saw theirplicated look.

    "I worked as a trantor for him after Ipleted my post-graduate studies and he found my aptitude suitable to be his assistant," I informed them.

    "What do you do, usually?" In front of the wide-eyed teenagers, I couldn''t just keep quiet.

    "I usually interview eye-witnesses, help him with his research and cases. In ss, I make sure everyone turns in their work and all his material is ready." They nodded.

    "I heard you stole-" someone smacked the boy who had spoken.

    "I stole someone?" I asked, amused. "Who told you? His previous assistant?" I chuckled.

    "Uh, yes." The boy scratched his head.

    "He does have a tendency totch onto juniors and fill their minds with rubbish. If only he used that time to learn more and do a good job," Professor Singhmented. I smiled at him in gratitude. "Didn''t he interrogate you because you found the body of that homeless man in the deserted shopping mall?" he asked, chuckling.

    "He did. Did I ever thank you for serving as my alibi?" I asked. He shook his head. "I shall treat you to lunch, then," I offered.

    "Oh, we saw the tapes. Sebastian brought them to the department when the head asked why he was dropping that brat from the position of assistant. We had quite augh at how you turned the tables." He ran his hand over his newly grown beard.

    "Everyone knows I have a smart mouth then." The air was light but still awkward. The students finally got the hint and shuffled away, leaving the two of us alone.

    "What did you want to talk about?" He asked. I shrugged.

    "I need to talk to a friend and I don''t know anyone apart from you. No-one sensible, that is."

    "Well, I am d you think that way!" he grinned. "Come on, spill." His voice became high pitched as he pretended to listen.

    I had tough. "So, I found out people like me."

    "Duh," he responded.

    "Where did you learn that expression?"

    "I might look like a brown-skinned uncle, but I carefully watch the students and picked up on theirnguage. I''m hip, you see." Of course, he was.

    I pressed my lips together to hide the smile. "So, yes. People like me. This guy... uh... not taking any names... likes me and well, I am trying to figure out if I do." I sighed with relief having said it.

    "You need my opinion on if you like him or not?" He kept his sandwich down and straightened up. "I am great at girl-talk. I''ll ask you some questions. You answer, okay?"

    I shook my head. "No, no. I like him. I know this. I don''t know the extent. That is where the problemy. I impulsively kissed the guy because I wanted fast answers."

    "And you hated kissing him but still like him?" he rushed to ask.

    I looked at Professor Singh and realized that he was a gossipy old man. Worse than those women you see in dramas.

    "No, I liked kissing him!" I eximed, a little too loudly. I could see some heads turn and I hung my head, hiding from the inspection. Professor Singh cleared his throat and a minute of silence ensued.

    "Okay, what is the problem, again? He confessed his feelings. You kissed him and you know you like him, too. So..." He motioned me to exin what the problem was.

    "I liked it and him. But I don''t want a rtionship with him," I told him. "It''s embarrassing, okay? I did it on impulse and now I can''t help but feel awkward around him."

    "Do I know this guy?" he asked, his pitch bing higher.

    "No!" I responded immediately.

    "Okay, so I know this guy," he confirmed much to my dissatisfaction. "Anyway, I don''t need to know who he is. Must be a nice guy... You don''t want a rtionship at the moment. I understand. So, why don''t you start something casual?" He blinked.

    "Casual? He''s too nice and understanding. I couldn''t possibly..." I trailed off, frustrated.

    "So, he''ll understand that you''re not ready for a rtionship." He shrugged.

    "So simple?" I was confused. "No, you don''t understand. It feels wrong to just take advantage of him."

    He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, the guy won''t mind if you take advantage of him. The first rule is to be transparent about your intentions. You''re not ready for a rtionship right now but you want to have a physical rtionship with him. That''s perfectly normal. Now, the next question would be, do you want a rtionship in the future? If yes, do you see yourself with him or someone else? Make sure you have these boundaries and you will be fine."

    Boundaries, there it was again.

    "And if he isn''t up to the mark?"

    "Well, I''m your friend. Not their. I can only be biased towards you. Now, if I knew this other guy..." he trailed off, insinuating. I shook my head. "Okay, I don''t know him. Doesn''t matter. Make full use of his shapely body and tell him you want to do dirty things to him."

    "Are you sure you''re a professor? Your words are too scious," Imented with a hint of horror. I was effectively scandalized.

    "Wel, you''ve called me your friend, so I must do good on that and embarrass you in front of people. Children these days are bold. They pounce at chances, so you should follow the trends." I snickered as I watched him take another bite of the sandwich.

    "Oh, if it doesn''t work out, there is a guy I know who you would be a great match with." I raised my brow.

    I saw Sebastian standing at the entrance of the canteen and dropped my head. He had found me too quick.

    "I don''t think I will be needing a match. For now."

    "Never say never. He studied Economics and did an MBA. He''s rich, too." He elbowed me and I didn''t realize it until the man sat down beside me.

    "Well, I''ll keep that in mind," I said lightly. "What are you doing here?" I asked, turning to Sebastian.

    "We didn''t make breakfast this morning. What am I supposed to eat?" he asked. I could see the hint of a pout on his lips and turned to see Professor Singh''s expression.

    His expression was nk and well-concealed. I knew that he had figured out who the guy in my story was. He avoided looking at Sebastian but failed miserably.

    "Harshit, why are you staring at me?" Sebastian asked, exasperated.

    "No, I just remembered how you threatened those students to not approach you and waste your time. It all makes sense now." He looked between us. So much for being inconspicuous.

    "Why didn''t it make sense then?" Sebastian''s words wereced with sarcasm.

    "You''re right... why didn''t it make sense then?" He took thest bite of his sandwich.

    "The post-doctoral studies didn''t really help, did they?" Sebastian clucked his tongue.

    "Well, what can I do, Evie? It seems I am friends with him too." Heughed andughed and I just hid my face in embarrassment.

    God, if friends were supposed to embarrass you at every turn, I wasn''t sure if I wanted any.

 Chapter 106: Distance is Good

    Chapter 106: Distance is Good

    "You''re not supposed to say these things in front of me," Sebastian protested. "You''re embarrassing her."

    I red at the two of them. "You''re embarrassing me, too." I groaned.

    "Yes, you are supposed to pretend that you don''t understand," Professor Singhmented.

    "That would be hard. It goes against my personality to not know things." Sebastian turned to me. "I am hungry," he said finally.

    I sat for a long time in silence. "Is this a targeted attempt to make me feel regret for talking to either of you?" The man beside me stiffened.

    "Regret is the worst emotion," he bit out. I shook my head.

    "What do you want to eat?" I asked finally. Professor Singh and Sebastian started speaking at the same time.

    "I shouldn''t be feeding you at all," I pouted. But I brought over their food anyway. I ced it in front of them and they both gave me brilliant smiles.

    "Evie, I have a conferenceing up and I will need a trantor again. If Sebastian doesn''t work you to the bone, do you think you cane with me?" he asked.

    "When is it?" I retorted. Sebastian protested quickly.

    "Hey, we have a lot of work left!" I smirked.

    "I know. That''s why I am looking to see if it ister on or not."

    "It''s on a weekend. Say two months from now. I wanted to give you a heads up." He sipped on the coffee I had bought for him.

    "It is during the break, so I should be working with Detective Nash. I''ll see if I can apply for a couple of days'' leave and apany you."

    "That would be great. Sebastian is not a social butterfly, so he can''t help you get contacts in this industry. He''ll teach you everything, so you need to apany me to get to know more people, okay?" Dr. Singh nced towards Sebastian, who made no move to protest.

    "If it doesn''t sh with my work, I don''t mind one bit." He turned to me. "It would be good for you to get to know more peacock. They are a bunch of painted peacocks, but with your ability, you can one-up them." He nodded sagely.

    "Don''t make me sound like that. I don''t know if it is apliment or not." I tucked my head and stabbed at the sd.

    "Always apliment," Sebastian interjected. "Also, we need to start work when we get back." He sighed. "It''s going to be tiring in the next few months for you," he said with a tint of disappointment.

    "What is that supposed to mean? Is there some extra work?" That I didn''t know about?

    He nodded. "Apparently it is that time of the year when the criminalse out," he rolled his eyes. "Nash called me. They are short-staffed and need all the hands they can get."

    I grinned. "What? You are going to work on cases that are not gruesome murders?" I had to tease him. "Seriously?" I asked, trying to hold back myughter.

    "Of course, not. Nash wants me to go and help with unsolved multiple murders. Their station has been getting requests since we solved the Magician case. They have a truckload of paperwork sitting to be sorted out."

    "So, I will need to assist you to sort through them?" I asked. That wasn''t a bother. More case files and watching Sebastian work meant more clearance on my part.

    "No, your internship will start a little earlier. You''ll be catching the shrimp-like criminals before you can advance to the actually difficult ones." That made me stop. I calcted the time in the day and felt my body give away.

    "I already work all day!" I groaned.

    "Not to worry. My coursework is almost over. I have three sses with each ss left, so that should be over in a week and a half. I''ve already taken all the mock quizzes and assignments. For your study, you get field experience. But you will probably work for fourteen to sixteen hours a day." He flinched.

    "Well, that is what one needs to do when they just started a job." Kill me, why don''t you.

    "You''ll still get eight hours of sleep, don''t worry." He suddenly seemed a little run over.

    "What?" I asked.

    "I won''t see you too often if you run around at crime scenes." I looked at him carefully. He looked about to cry.

    "Distance is good for you." It was good for me too. Apparently, I was unable to control my impulses, especially now that I had a taste of this man. I was thinking about taking advantage of him at the back of my mind. Which was very awkward considering the number of eyes on us.

    He remained silent. "We have one ss left and then you can enjoy yourst day of freedom. You will be perpetually busy henceforth," Sebastian imed. "Your excellent will now be acknowledged by everyone." I scrutinized his expression.

    It was an amalgamation between happiness and bitterness. I knew the reason for both.

    "You two talk too much while eating," Professor Singhmented.

    "We talk as a matter of principle. Do you remain taciturn while eating?" Sebastian asked. The rtionship between these two waspetitive, but I could see how they were friends. Their specializations did not converge, so they were not rivals but both of them were trying to one-up the other in terms of publication and fame.

    "Riching from you, Mr. I-hate-people." I snickered at that.

    "Stop, you two," I scolded softly. I could see the eyes on us. It was umon for so many teaching faculty to be in the canteen. Moreover, the conversation was too sensational to miss. "We should eat together more often," Imented.

    "I despise most of the faculty. Excuse me," Sebastian said quickly. "Harshit, I will have to exclude from that."

    "Well, your dislike for them has in turn made them dislike me. Not a very good thing."

    He looked at me with trepidation. "They won''t add value to your life. Don''t bother."

    "Get a room, you two."

    "Professor Singh, apologies."

    "Stop calling me that. Call me Harshit like this brat," he said with a wave of his hand. "He''s almost thirty years my junior but never respected me. In terms of hierarchy, you get to call me by my name, too." And what hierarchy was this? I couldn''t guess. Harshit, I said in my head, saw my confusion, and quickly exined. "My parents migrated from India to here, so they still hold the values. We call wives of our friends sister-inw."

 Chapter 107: Adore You

    Chapter 107: Adore You

    I scrunched my brow in disbelief. What conversation was this. I turned to look wildly. No one had heard this deration.

    Sebastian ced his fork down and stared at Harshit. "You. Stop embarrassing her. I know you enough to be sure that you told her to y with my heart!"

    I choked on the water I had tried to sip on to cool down.

    "Okay, I''m done with lunch. I''ll take my leave." I stood up abruptly, my cheeks burning. Well, everything they said (apart from the whole sister-inw thing) was true. I shouldn''t be embarrassed. Maybe, I should pour out all my tension and kiss him so many times that it is no longer embarrassing to me.

    And talk to him like Harshit had mentioned. That seemed like a good idea.

    I prepared for the ss for the rest of lunch. Sebastian didn''te back and I guessed that he was trying to give me space. I was thankful for that. I found myself going through emails and answering questions rapidly despite how terribly busy my mind was with the images of intimacy with Sebastian.

    How was Sebastian more emotionally adept than me? Hadn''t he appointed me for the sole purpose of helping himmunicate with the world?

    Then a thought... a dangerous thought passed through my mind.

    What if... What if the only person with whom he trulymunicated with, without barrier, was me. Because he was putting in a conscious effort to get to know me and ce himself firmly in my life. When I thought back to the beginning I could almostugh at this. When Alec interviewed me, he had remained hidden in the shadows, observing me. Thereafter, he had tried his best to keep his distance. Until the case. He had pervaded my life fully since then. Even when I didn''t see him for months on end, I had sometimes thought about him and his proposal. And that eventful day when I saw him on campus as he walked out of the department... I remembered being dazzled. His hair bronze and shining in the piercing sunlight, his sses pushed down his nose as he fixed it. It was the first time I saw him in perspective.

    As other people saw him. I still remember his eyes and how they glittered on seeing me. Had he liked me since then?

    Probably not. Maybe he admired me and saw worth in appointing me.

    When had he started liking me though? I wondered about it.

    He had crept into my life and taken over sopletely that I couldn''t imagine it without him anymore. Now that my life was in multicolor, it would seem grey without him.

    I realized that I liked him. Liked him a lot. But I needed answers.

    The ss flew by and we silently drove back to theplex. He walked me to my apartment, leaving me to my thoughts. When I entered my apartment, he remained outside the door.

    "You aren''ting in?" I asked, surprised.

    "No. You need time to think," he said softly and shrugged. I felt my heart skip a beat.

    "Will you answer a question?" I asked, almost pleading.

    "Shoot."

    "Since when did you like me?" I was so confused.

    "Shortly after you started working as my assistant. I had great admiration for you but when you said yes... I don''t know when it started. But before I realized that I adored you, I was already in the middle of it." He smiled, the corner of his lips soft.

    Adore. That word was not like a violent promation of love. There was something soft about it that pleased the heart. It showed the willingness to wait and the respect he held for me. I knew the meaning of words, and the one he chose had pierced mepletely. I would not be able to escape.

    "If I knew how much I would love you when I met you, I would have fallen in love with you at first sight." I saw his hand curl into a fist as he tried to stop himself from something. My eyes felt hot but I pushed them back.

    "I''m sorry," I said quickly. I saw him open his mouth to speak but I stopped him short. "I am unable tomit to anything right now. It''s my fault. I am not ready. But I like you, Sebastian. I really like you. While I cannot be in a rtionship with you right now, I can tell you one thing. If I am entangled in a romantic rtionship with anyone, it will be you. And no one else."

    He hung his head, his knuckles turning white from the force of his restraint. I almost felt sorry for him.

    "I don''t believe I am capable of rtionships and tenderness, but for you, I will fight to rediscover the confidence in myself." I stopped, my eyes locked on his fist. "Will you wait for me?" He didn''t respond. "When I am better, will you do me the honor of going out for a cup of coffee for me?" I asked again.

    Fear crept through me. He would reject me, I was sure for a second.

    "Yes," he whispered. I sighed in relief, sagging against the door and leaning into it.

    "Are you holding yourself back?" I asked finally after a long moment of silence.

    "Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

    "Why?" I had to ask.

    "I am trying my best to wait for you and not force you into anything." That made sense. But I didn''t want him to hold back. My, what a conflicted and toxic person I was.

    "Can''t you stop holding back?" I asked. "I know... I am selfish. But I need confirmation that you like me. I am pathetic." I screwed my eyes tightly shut to keep from saying more. I felt the brush of his lips against mine within a fraction of a second. My breath rushed out through my nose with the shudder that went through my body. Trapped between the door and the warmth of his body, I felt safe.

    ''Thank you,'' I chanted in my mind. Under the glow of his affection, I felt invulnerable. Something I had not felt in years. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

    At least, he was not holding back any longer.

 Chapter 108: Floor of Uncanny Neighbors

    Chapter 108: Floor of Uncanny Neighbors

    It felt like a lifetime and seconds at the same time. My eyes remained shut,fortable, and imagining his face as he kissed me. If I opened my eyes, it would be too awkward. So I clung to him,cing my hand around his neck and pulling myself up on my tiptoes to kiss me deeply.

    I was the one who pulled away, breathless, and in awe of his lung capacity. I felt the butterfly kisses of hisshes on my cheeks as his lips pressed against the corner of mine and then my chin. Though his hands were on either side of my head, I could feel that he was keeping his body at a distance. I smiled and pressed my forehead to his, reveling at the moment.

    From behind Sebastian, I heard someone clear their throat and was startled away from him. I pushed him away quickly, making him stumble and double over a foot away from me. Sebastian nced towards the elderly woman who was giving us a judgmental look and smiled politely.

    "Have you been well?" he asked the woman, who had obviously stopped to stare at us. Thedy looked over at me and shook her head in disappointment. This woman only came out to buy a bag of groceries every week and a packet of cigarettes. I had heard that she thought herself a psychic.

    Which was all good.

    "I knew this would happen." I snickered as she fiddled in the pocket of her jacket. The keys jingled in her jacket as she struggled. I moved forward, taking the bag from her. She gave me a withering look but took my help nheless. She pressed her key into the slot and turned the knob.

    "Knew what would happen?" Sebastian asked, his voice amused.

    "You two make googly eyes at one another. It was a matter of time. But her face tells me she''ll have a hard life ahead of her." She red at Sebastian. "What about you? Ready to share it or will you be running out?"

    Sebastian''s smile fell. One look at me and anyone would know she wasn''t a very happy and innocent person. I didn''t believe in fortune-telling and those that pretended to be psychic. I did believe in their power to squeeze out the wishes and fears of people and use the knowledge against them. A very narcissistic trait, but people only heard what they wanted to and blindly believed thesements. I was sure Sebastian thought the same way.

    "I run really fast, but I know my goals. I won''t be running away, I''ll be running towards her." He gave the woman a look of warning and touched the small of my back to guide me away. He was quick to hand the older woman the groceries back and usher me into the apartment.

    He closed the door before I could say anything and peered through the peephole. "She ruined the moment," he grumbled, making me chuckle.

    "Well, you didn''t need to be so hard on the conservative olddy," I imed softly. I plopped down on the sofa and took in a shuddering breath.

    "I''m already trying hard to show you that the thoughts that scare you are a trick of your head, but thisdyes along spouting her supernatural mumbo-jumbo." He shook his head. "We should have made sure the neighbors weren''t idiots before renting the ce."

    "I rented the ce," I interjected. "I know everyone that lives around me. The psychicdy. The webnovelist who neveres out of her apartment. And the man with dementia next door."

    "What is this? A ghost floor? Why is everyone here so strange?" he sighed. "When did you even meet these people?" He sat down beside me and patted on hisp. I stared at the gesture, confused. "ce your head. You look like you have a headache from the burden of your conflicting thoughts," he teased.

    Indeed, I did have a bad headache. I wordlessly slid down and ced my head on hisp. His cool fingers touched my temple, the pressure was just right. His fingers made their way to my scalp and I had to wonder where he learned this.

    "I had terrible headaches as a child, so I learned to take care of them myself. I don''t get them anymore. Never found out what caused them, though." He shrugged.

    I was scared I would fall asleep, so I patted his arm. He stopped and when I opened my eyes, I saw his face peering down at me, a look of pure adoration in them.

    "I met Psychic Grandma because people drop my mail in her postbox. The webnovelist was out of coffee and wandered down the hallway to find me because I wouldn''t ask too many questions. I sent her back home with a box of pomegranate tea, which she loved. She slipped a note under my door gushing about it." I rolled my eyes. "And the grandpa with dementia... well, he came out of the apartment one evening while I was talking to Psychic Grandma. Apparently, they had a fling years ago."

    "Well, I was expecting cryptic stories, but it seems everyone here is wholesome." He sounded like he wanted to object.

    "What? You''ve finally pushed out of her ursed will, so you will rush to move me into your apartment?" I joked. He looked at me very seriously. I stopped in my tracks. "No, seriously."

    "Sheng Sheng is practically living here. We are mostly at the university and Ie back home, eat, and then go to sleep. I have three sets of clothes here, Evie. Have mercy on me." He was pleading. How long he had put up with it, I didn''t know, but he looked aggrieved.

    I had been thoughtless.

    "You can move back home," I said softly. "I need to start spending time away from you too." That had been the routine.

    "Oh, don''t lie to me. Sleep therapy usually needs three months to have an effect. You only feel better because you are finally catching up to all the sleep you lost over the years. This isn''t even the start." He gritted his teeth. "I am not doing this because I want to sleep beside you or be intimate with you, but if you pull away from me because you are scared of my feelings and how fast our rtionship is evolving, I will try my best to put some sense into you."

    "Okay, I give you leave to put some sense into me. Give me some good points as to why I shouldn''t kick you out of the apartment."

    He thought about it for a moment. "It takes five minutes for me to walk to and from your apartment and mine, a period of time that is minuscule for others but someone in our profession... it can lead to life and death. Second, you get a second pair of hands to clean and cook."

    Because cooking for two people wasn''t a hard job.

    "Don''t look at me like that. Neither of us eats much, so the effort of addedbor isn''t too much. You put in the same amount of work as you would cook your own food. Our diets are identical and the cost of grocery can be evenly split. Moreover, if I don''t spend more than an hour at my home every day, what is the use of paying a steep rent? Why are both of us spending money when we could be economical and save a lot of money on simply rent!"

    I red at him.

    "Yes! Your rent. We could live in my apartment. You would have a separate room for yourself for when you can sleep alone and office space. The view is spectacr and security is tighter around that area. All your clothes will fit into the wardrobe without a hitch and you don''t have enough furniture to warrant a lot of moving." He looked around. "Your furniture is rented. Only the throw pillows, covers, and the like are your own investment."

    "What about how awkward it will be to live with you?" I asked. Logically, his offer made sense, but I needed my own space.

    "Will it?" he said, scrunching his nose in confusion.

    "I enjoy having my own space. I specifically took this apartment because there are no corners to hide and I have a clear view of all the rooms from where I sit. I enjoy having a space of my own where I know I am safe. Going to a new space when I am just learning to trust myself and trying to sleep. I don''t think it would bode well for my mental health."

    He thought about it for a long time. "A part of you also thinks that we will never work out so you are letting me down easy." It was not a question. The reaction had been subconscious, but he pinned it down without a clue from me.

    "Yes, which is why I need you to assure me that you like me." I smiled, remembering his explosion. "But I also need a space of my own that I don''t share with anyone. You may stay with me, but because I pay rent and I willingly chose this apartment, I feel like it belongs to me."

    "Space and identity corrtion," hemented, understanding what I was saying.

    "Yes."

    He touched my cheek, his palm pressing against my heated skin. "Evie, you have all the time in the world. If there are a hundred steps between us, you just need to take one step towards me and I will take the ny-nine that is left." I stared at him in utter shock. "So,e slowly."

    "Did you have a hidden talent for smooth-talking?" I asked, my voice quite a few octaves higher. He gave me a sly smile.

    "I have ovee my aversion for romance novels. I found great joy in them now that I know exactly what the characters are experiencing. Academic articles and research papers can''t grasp the exact feeling... they feel insufficient even though they are true."

    "What a nerd."

 Chapter 109: Accidental Death

    Chapter 109: idental Death

    My coursework was done and I had been putting in more hours at the station. Detective Nash had been nothing but charming in my time there. Sebastian had been buried head deep solving cold cases in the makeshift office that was given to him while I went around talking to victims of crimes: arson, robberies, trespassing. I had seen just about everything at that point. What made me d was theck of murders in the city.

    Until one Sunday afternoon, a call came into the station.

    "Evie, we need to go to the site!" Nash called over.

    "What do we have today?" Hopefully, a family dispute that we could talk out.

    "Demolition workers went inside an abandoned house to check the premises and found the body of a boy." I stiffened.

    "What does that mean?" I asked.

    "They called the emergency services but the child had been long dead before the workers came in."

    "Were there signs of trauma or anything?" I asked as he hopped into the car.

    "No, they found blood on the corner of his lips trickling down. No visible sign of trauma. They''ve preserved the scene as best as they could but there are people from all over the neighborhood flocking to the site. The medical practitioner ising to the scene, too." I nodded.

    As we entered the society, I realized that it was one of those tightly-knit neighborhoods where everyone knew their neighbors and the kids yed together. There were elderly couples lounging on the porches and women with strollers walking on the streets.

    The yellow tape marked the boundary between the crime scene and the world. The location was a poorly preserved house, it hadn''t been painted in a while or upied for that matter. I looked around the faces in the crowd and stopped over the irate woman who was kneeling on the floor.

    "That should be the mother," I told Nash. He nced over and nodded.

    "Let''s head in. We can talk to her after inspecting the site." We bent under the tape and were greeted by officers with pen and paper. I smiled at them politely and went in.

    Dust particles flew in the air but from the floor, you could see signs of use. Not estranged footprints from the scene but well used. I kneeled down beside the body of the boy. No more than five years of age. His pale skin told me everything I needed to know. He''d been dead for a while now.

    "Estimated time of death should be sometime around this morning," I whispered.

    The medical practitioner had already arrived.

    "Hi guys," the female said. She knelt down, fully in gear and taking pictures. "Time of death is today... preferably six to eight hours ago." It was five in the evening. So before noon.

    "You really are a ghastly presence, aren''t you?" Nashmented. I looked at him passively. The woman looked over at her, eyeing her with keen eyes.

    I stood up and looked around the room carefully.

    "No signs of poisoning or use of force. Looks to be idental," shemented. Really, there was no sign of struggle in the room. No sign of scuffle or the boy being dragged into this location. On a day like this when the neighborhood was buzzing with activity, no one would be able to inconspicuously go in and out of the building.

    But how had this boy ended up on the floor of an empty house?

    "I suspect it is an idental death," she said. I looked at her.

    "It does look that way, doesn''t it?" Nash sighed. "Poor kid," he stared at the boy.

    Nash had a young son as well, a little older than this boy. I patted his back and he shook his head. "We''ll know more if we open him up, right?" he asked.

    We didn''t want any bases to be left uncovered.

    "Okay, we need to transport the body to the morgue. I''ll start on the process." I stopped her short.

    "I''ll talk to the mother. We can ask her for permission." It would be hard. No mother would want their little boy to be cut open. But I felt my gut scream. This was not an idental death. What could have caused it?

    I got rid of the gloves and scrub shoes and went over to the boy''s mother.

    "Ma''am," I called her, cing a hand on her shoulder. I didn''t call her too loudly. She looked up, her eyes bloodshot from tears.

    She sniffled as she tried to say something. "Are you with the police?" she asked. I nodded and kneeled down beside her."My poor boy. My Patrick!" she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands.

    "I''m so sorry for your loss," I offered. I had always hated how the police spoke to victims. Making them feel like they were being apprehended at the time when they were grieving. It bothered me so much that I refused to use the same method.

    A floodgate seemed to open. "He just didn''te home! He went out to y with friends and never came back home. My neighbor came to me and told me Patrick was hurt. So, I ran here but... when I saw him... god, he was so pale. My little boy... Bloody and pale..." She wailed.

    I couldn''t imagine. A mother who had lost their child. No amount of constion to diminish the pain. "I knew he was dead." Her body wracked with sobs. I patted her back, offering what little support I could.

    As if considering me a source offort, she leaped forward and hugged me. I stiffened under her tight grip and awkwardly looked around the crowd. Most of them looked on in pity. Some watched in fascination as the scene yed out, while the others looked away, eyes red with unshed tears.

    Nash kept his distance and let me do what I could. It took a while for her to calm down.

    "Do you mind talking to me for a bit? I know this is a bad time, but I would love to know more about Patrick." I told her. I couldn''t voice that I suspected foul y but I had to get as much information as possible. We finally got her away from prying eyes. This time, Nash was right by my side.

    "What happened to him?" she choked. I offered her my handkerchief, one I hade to always keep in my pocket to offer to the victim and their family. "Thank you," she muttered in a small voice.

    "We are still looking into all options. It would be great if you would let us perform an autopsy on him," Nash said softly.

    "An autopsy?" she repeated, horrified. "You''ll cut up my poor boy?"

    "Not if you don''t want to," I assured her.

    "Is there something suspicious? He was bleeding. Why was he bleeding?" she gasped.

    "We don''t have any clue as of yet, but we will let you know if we find something out," Nash promised. "The bleeding was from him biting his lips, ma''am," Nash informed her. I turned to look at him and realized that the medical practitioner must have informed him of this while I was inspecting the scene.

    He bit his lips so hard that he bled... more than a bitten lip produces.

    "I... I don''t want him to be cut up," she said softly. I looked on helplessly. No sign of force or trauma, just a bitten lip. How did this child die? Nash finally gave up.

    "If you change your mind, please let me know," he said.

    As we walked away, Nash whispered to her. "We have four days for her to change her mind." Yes, after four days, the funeral would take ce. If Patrick''s mom let them perform an autopsy before that... That would be great.

    Indeed, half a day passed and we were on the verge of dering it an idental death when his mother called. Her husband and she kept dreaming about their little boy and they couldn''t not know how he died.

    The medical practitioner was brought in immediately. It took a few hours and I waited outside for the result.

    The result came out. Nothing was amiss. Cause of death? Lack of air. How? Probably the dust in the air induced an asthma attack.

    Unfortunate, they said.

    The parents cried when they heard but there was nothing we could do. I made a copy of the case and kept it close to me. Something about this was not right.

    The parents were sweethearts and called us to the funeral. Out of respect, Nash and I went. I found myself looking at home videos and of kids ying in the garden. Only four and a half years of age. A life extinguished. Themunity mourned the death of such a bright boy. And I sat at the back, observing everyone.

    Nothing was amiss. Everything was perfect. Two perfect.

    It felt like someone had concealed themselves so well that I couldn''t find them. The feeling was uncanny. I hated it. I hated not knowing. The case had been ruled an idental death, the higher authorities demanded it.

    The death of a child always made the news and the police never wanted such cases to be dragged on. They wanted confirmation and in this case, they thought there was no foul y. So I remained shut and watched in horror as someone got away.

    I was sure. Someone had got away scot-free. A little boy would have no enemies and he had gone out to y alone that day. No one had seen anyone enter the house apart from him. Then how did this boy die?

    Asthma attack? I refused to believe it.

 Chapter 110: Budding Serial Killer

    Chapter 110: Budding Serial Killer

    The rites came to an end and the people all flocked to Patrick''s parents one by one. Words of grieve, how sorry they were, and all the social niceties were spewed. Nash and I waited until the end. I saw a group of children approaching her parents and the mother gave them a watery smile.

    I didn''t hear what they were saying but I saw her smile drop and she nced towards the coffin. It was a closed casket, so I didn''t know why she was ncing back.

    A few weeks go by and I look over the files over and over again. The drive to crime scenes and back, I couldn''t help but go over all the faces I had seen.

    "I just can''t figure it out!" I eximed as I sat beside Sebastian on the bed. He was leaning against the headboard and browsing through a file.

    "Tell me why you are feeling this way," he looked up and asked me. "Tell me about your reasoning. I trust your gut but you need to understand why you are feeling that way."

    I processed my thought for a bit and gave him the facts. "The site where the body was found was not dusty enough to cause an asthma attack. Even if it did, it wouldn''t be so severe as to incapacitate him. Moreover, he has no prior record of respiratory diseases." Sebastian nodded.

    "What else?"

    "I have been reading up on forensic sciences and... if someone strangled the victim gradually, there wouldn''t be proper signs of strangtion or any type of force. On a child, it would be easier."

    "Good. That''s a great point. Then tell me. What do you think happened?" his eyes were glowing.

    "It was someone the child knew. Someone who took him into that house in broad daylight and didn''t cause others to even notice. There were no signs of struggle so they probably told him it was a game or something and then strangled him."

    Sebastian''s eyes flickered with emotion. "That is a good scene. Any suspects?" he asked.

    "None. I couldn''t think of a single person. I first thought it was one of the parents, but I closely watched them. Their emotions couldn''t be faked. Furthermore, in cases of child abuse and homicides, the methods are rather different. They usually don''t strangle a child above the age of two. Usually, children who die at the hand of their parents have prior marks of abuse on their bodies."

    "You can''t exclude that," Sebastian said softly.

    "I am sure because they let us perform an autopsy. A normal person doesn''t know how advanced the police are. And they wouldn''t be conscious enough to not leave marks. Then..." I just couldn''t tie it together.

    "Who do you doubt, then?" he asked.

    I red at him. He wasn''t helping me at all. "Someone who was present at the scene. It wasn''t idental. If it had been, they would have called for help... or panicked and done something to hide the body. They didn''t hide it. So, they were looking forward to their crimeing to light. They wanted to see first-hand how everyone reacted to what they had done."

    "Good. You are on the right track." He smiled.

    "Why aren''t you helping me?" I asked incredulously.

    "You haven''t needed my help in the past two months, Evie. I am not going to start helping you now that you are independently solving every crime thates your way. You have to be proud of how capable you are." I rolled my eyes.

    "I could figure this out if I talked to you. Give me a clue!" I asked.

    He chuckled. "Evie, I wasn''t there at the scene. I can''t tell you what happened. You were the one who saw everything. Dive back into your memories and find the people who looked suspicious to you. You are good at recognizing intent, remember?"

    I hissed as I dropped onto the bed.

    "Who could it be..." I kept thinking but no answer came to me.

    The next evening, another boy was found. It was in the same neighborhood.

    As we drove, I looked over to Nash. "I told you. It wasn''t an idental death or some freak disease. These are murders and by the look of it, serial murders." I looked out of the window. The street was still buzzing with activity. Like none of them saw what was happening in theirmunity. There was a killer hiding in in sight and I couldn''t tell who it was.

    This time, it was in the shed of someone''s house. The olddy who owned the house never went to her shed. Kids would often y in her yard, so she never thought much about anything. She hadn''t seen anyonee or go but a teenage couple who had sneaked into the shed had found the boy, lifeless.

    I knelt down beside the boy and looked at his lifeless, pale face.

    "It''s a serial killer," Nash confirmed. "This shed is clean but still this boy is dead without a visible cause. If I guess properly, he died from ack of oxygen, as well." The same medical practitioner came in and a look of grief passed over her head.

    She opened the mouth of the little boy, crossing her hand in prayer. "Definitely choked to death." The tongue was proof. Same as before. Only, this time, there was a marked difference.

    When she looked under the clothes, we saw de marks. Initials.

    "It''s a signature," I said under my breath. I squinted as I tried to figure it out. "CM," I read. The marks were so poorly done that it was hard to tell.

    "Hesitation marks and signs of ineptitude. This person has never used a de. From what I can see, it is a de from razors or something simr. Very easily essible and sharp." The thin lines looked much like self-inflicted wounds apart from the depth of the cuts. Self-inflicted wounds were a little deeper because of the intention.

    "Definitely a shaving de from a razor," Imented. "They didn''t know how much pressure to apply either." Odd. "Like they have never used one before." My mind worked.

    "There''s more," she said in horror. She pointed towards the pants and I finally noticed. Small stains of blood. Heaven forbid.

    I looked away as she checked.

    "Well, this is definitely not an idental death," Nash groaned. "We have a budding serial killer on our hands. One that has just started to experiment with killing."

    "Do you think they are developing a fantasy?" Which one? An attempt to mutte the little boy''s genital was made. Sexual deviance. Trauma. What was this killer reliving?

    "Well, if we go by textbook, it is someone who has suffered sexual trauma... possibly in their childhood. They have a marked distaste for men, but a morbid curiosity as well." He pointed towards theck of intention. "They were interrupted by something as well."

    "So, by re-enacting their trauma, they are finally taking back the control that they lost?" I finished, albeit it sounded like a question.

    "Yes," Nash admitted.

    "The killer is going to watch us. He or she will see every moment of when we find. The initials... it means that they want to be caught. A signature like this is too pronounced," Imented.

    "Or it is an alias. It could mean something else, too, you know?" Something told me that it didn''t. There was ack of thought in the technique and I dared to say that this killer hadn''t refined their art. Therefore, they were new to the idea of killing. Trauma aside, they seemed tock in intellect, killing people in broad daylight and being interrupted.

    It just didn''t scream like they were trying to get caught... no, this was about control. This was about ack of control. Not that it narrowed down anything.

    "They definitely live in the neighborhood," I said.

    "And it is someone no one would expect to kill people." Nash looked around. We came out of the shed and the practitioner remained inside, sampling every surface.

    I walked out and looked around. Patrick''s parents were there and they looked horrified. They saw me and looked like they wanted to talk to me. Old people, middle-aged people, kids... There were plenty. Familiar faces? All of them.

    Except for one. The expression was odd. She was smiling and staring at me. I walked over to Patrick''s parents but kept my eyes on her.

    "How have you been doing?" I asked.

    "Thank you foring to the funeral. I wasn''t feeling well towards the end, so I couldn''t send you off." I bowed.

    "I am sorry I couldn''t give better answers to both of you," I told them. I felt terribly guilty.

    "Please don''t say that. You tried your best." Both the parents asked about what had happened and I told them no details apart from an injured boy. "Are they terribly hurt?" they asked, their eyes watering.

    I didn''t answer. They were luckier. Their boy had been pristine even in death. This child, not so much. "Do you know her?" I pointed towards the girl in front.

    "Carol?" Patrick''s mother asked. "The one with the blonde hair?" I nodded. "Yes, she''s Marie''s daughter. She''s an angel," she said.

    Is she now. "Yeah, I saw her at the funeral," I told her. "What''s her full name?"

    "Carol Myers," she said, confused. "She''s an obedient girl who helps everyone out."

    So, I had concentrated on the right person. Now, I had to talk to her. No, I had to make here to me. The question was... how.

 Chapter 111: Really Nasty Bunch

    Chapter 111: Really Nasty Bunch

    I had to walk over to Nash quickly. "I found a suspect," I whispered. Nash turned to me with shock.

    "How did you do that?" he asked. I shrugged.

    "I have keen senses. I was talking to Sebastian yesterday about how frustrated the whole thing made me and the conversation put things in perspective. I am almost positive I know who did this." I stared at him. He was not going to believe me. I just knew it.

    "Okay, tell me. Who is it?" He looked around the perimeter to see all the faces. "I can''t figure it out. Quickly tell me."

    "Your four o''clock. Blonde shoulder length hair and mauve flowy dress." He inconspicuously nced towards the direction and shook his head. "Listen to me," I said firmly. Nash closed his mouth, his lips forming a line. "She was there when we found Patrick, too. I noticed her staring at me but didn''t think much of it then. When I came out now, I saw her smile."

    "Smile?" Nash asked, confused.

    "Like... like she was excited to see her project to everyone." I gulped. "I know that look, Nash. And her name is Carol Myers. CM." His eyes widened slightly.

    "She''s what? Nine or ten years old and a female," he whispered. "Young female killers are not..."

    "Improbable? She fits the bill. The angelic face that doesn''t make anyone suspect her, the curiosity of the crime scenes, and her keen eyes on the parents. She iscking in control because she is a child and she can''t put enough force for strangtion marks to appear." Iid the spection out for him. "A child will follow an older child very easily. They look up to older children, especially girls because they think they are harmless."

    "This is all spection," Nashmented. "I know you have a strong gut feeling but we can''t be rash about this." I nodded.

    "I am not going to be rash. She has been staring at me since the first scene. She is trying to figure out how to approach me. I don''t know why, but I think she wants to know what is happening inside and I am the one that looks easy to fool."

    Nash scoffed. "Well, if that is her intent, good luck to her." I gave him a small smile. "But no overt questioning."

    I shook my head. "No. I''ll question some of the children this boy ys with and others. She''ll feel like we have no clue and then we can ask her questions... gently and without erring her suspicion."

    He mulled over it. "Good idea. But be sure not to let other possible clues go amiss. We can''t be sure it is her. Thismunity looks very family-oriented, it would be very odd if the neighbors didn''t intervene when a child was hurt."

    I smiled a bitter smile. "Most often, neighbors, no matter how much they pretend, don''t want to intervene in a family''s business."

    "Okay, I''ll go talk to the parents. You talk to the kids." He pointed towards the younger kids and some older boys who were looking from the sideline.

    I approached the boys in question. Children rarely gave enough information and in groups, their stories changed ording to what the others said. Very hard to ask questions to.

    "Hey, would you mind answering some questions?" I asked. I put on my best smile and made sure to look approachable. The boys were apprehensive at first, but my harmless demeanor won them over.

    "Do you know who found the little boy?" I asked.

    "Yeah, an infamous couple of our neighborhood," one said, pointing towards the general direction. "It''s a popr makeout spot for kids here." I smiled.

    "I see. Where you guys there when they were found? In the vicinity?" I asked.Most of them shook their head. One of them looked bothered. "You can tell me!" I coaxed.

    "My house is nearby," he said. He pointed towards a cozy-looking home. "I heard the screaming and came out."

    "Screaming?" I asked, confused.

    "Yeah, the kids who found Tyler came out and hyperventted. They didn''t know what to do. There was screaming, especially with all the people who surrounded the spot and tried to figure out what to do."

    I remained silent. "Who were the first people toe?" I asked.

    "A group of younger girls. Really nasty bunch." He shook his head.

    My ears perked up in interest.

    "Nasty?" I wasn''t going off-topic. I said it in a manner that sounded uninterested.

    "Yeah, you know thirteen to sixteen-year-old mean girls who think they are all that. They bully the other kids." I nodded, pretending not to know much. The more I remained quiet, the more information they would reveal. I was expecting them to start a conversation and taking names soon. "The worst one is not even their age. I don''t know why she hangs out with them," one of them said.

    "Carol!" someone hissed. I kept my excitement down under control.

    "Are they nasty?" I asked.

    "Oh, yeah. They get physical and take money from kids. They try with us, too. But we are big so they go away quickly." They shrugged. Some more small talk and they thought they didn''t know much.

    "Thank you so much for your time. If you think you know anything else, just reach out to me. I''ll be here for another couple of hours or you could call our station and tell whatever you remember."

    The boys nodded. "Did someone hurt Tyler?"

    I nodded. "So, I earnestly ask you to inform me if you remember anything." I was about to leave when one boy jogged up to me.

    "Ma''am," he called. I stopped and turned to him.

    "Do you remember anything?" I asked. He shook his head.

    "No, no. I have a question. Do you mind?" I motioned for him to continue. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked. I chuckled. Unfortunately, I had been asked this question enough times by people to not take the words to heart. But for such a young boy to ask.

    I nodded. "I am spoken for." I waved goodbye and I heard ''aws'' from behind me.

    Nash walked up to me. "Any news?" he asked.

    "The first people toe over was a team of teenagers. Bullies and our little suspect is the leader." Nash raised his brow.

    "Well, it does seem odd." He became eerily silent. "Patrick''s parents came up to me while you were talking to the boys... Carol and that group of girls dide up to them during the funeral."

    I blinked. Ah, I remembered. "Continue."

    "Carol asked Patrick''s parents if she could see him." He paused. "They thought she didn''t understand he was dead and told him she couldn''t see the boy. She smiled and told them that she wanted to see him in the casket."

    I winced. "Oh yeah. I saw their faces fall when a bunch of kids went up. It makes sense now. Still think it''s impossible?"

    Nash shook his head. "Should have trusted your gut. What a machine." He smiled. "Okay, now we need to talk to the girls. They were the first ones to arrive at the scene after the couple, so we can call them in and ask them questions in that pretext."

    "But we need to be very careful. We need to talk to them simultaneously and not let them contaminate each other''s stories," I said.

    "Right. Children. Do you have training in conversing with kids?" he asked. I shook my head.

    "I just know the particrs. I have never interrogated underaged kids. Especially a nine-year-old? We can''t ask leading questions." I shrugged.

    "She is interested in you. Do you want to take a try? I feel like she will ask you a lot of questions and that will help you out."

    It was freaking me out a little, but I had grown confident in interrogations and interviews since I started working with Nash. Indeed, practice made perfect.

    I nodded. "We''ll have to bring in the parents, too..." Nash nodded.

    "It will be a long day." I looked at the sky.

    "We need the story today but it is also gettingte. It won''t be proper to ask them questions untilte. We need to call in a couple more detectives and wrap up the questioning," I told him.

    "Look at you being imposing," Nashplimented.

    "Well, I need to be when I look like an angel. Don''t want all those people hitting on me," I chuckled.

    "Man, I still can''t believe all the people who actually hit on the police." He shook his head. "There is ack of female detectives and profilers in our country, so people are inappropriate. I didn''t know how much until I started working with you. I''d have punched someone if they spoke to me like that."

    "That really warms my heart," I replied. The people at the station had been so nice to amodate me and teach me everything. "I am okay with it," I shrugged.

    "You have really opened up since I first met you. You aren''t that jumpy and you definitely don''t look guilty all the time." He patted my back. Indeed, it had gotten mildly easier to be around people. Even their touches weren''t as horrifying as before. I found that teamwork andmunal trust had done me some good. And Dr. Knight.

    He called me his miracle patient. Something about my will doing most of the work. I had to give him credit for everything, though.

    "Which reminds me. You keep telling people you are taken. What is with that?" I red at him. "Avoidance tactic?" he teased.

    "Well. What if I wasn''t lying?" I retorted. Nash raised an eyebrow.

    "Does Sebastian know?" he asked. He was trying his best not to burst out intoughter.

    "Not yet." I sighed. The light in the sky was dwindling. "Let''s go back to work."

 Chapter 112: Screaming Bloody Murder

    Chapter 112: Screaming Bloody Murder

    When we reached the station, it was buzzing with activity. I saw Sebastianing out of his office and called him over. "Are you busy with something?" I asked.

    "Yeah, It''s all hands on deck, apparently. We have six girls to interview. Nash, you, me, and a couple of others have been called in." He looked cautiously at my face. "You already have everything figured out, don''t you?" he asked.

    "I think I do. I can feel it in my gut. I''ll tell youter." I could see the parents arriving with the kids, so I stopped short. "Oh, they are here. Have you been briefed on the crime scene?" I asked, breathless with anticipation.

    "Yeah, we got the pictures and statements, too, thanks to you." He patted my back. "You look positively gleeful." He chuckled. "Don''t get so excited."

    "I am not excited because I like seeing crimes happen. I am excited because of what I found. You will be... very happy with the results." He gave me an odd expression and turned to Nash.

    "What is she talking about?" he whispered.

    Nash snorted. "Even you haven''t seen a case like this, Sebastian." He gave me an appreciative look. "This girl really has a good head on her shoulder. You taught her well not to just go by statistics and look at the facts. She reads between the lines like no one''s business." He looked mildly horrified. "Should we be taking more students from thenguage and literature streams? I think they will do a much better job than some of the students we get."

    "Okay, we are gettingte!" I said firmly. I turned back and saw Carol standing with a very unassuming woman. By the curve of her mother''s brows and the biting of her lips, she looked very nervous. I approached them with a warm smile.

    "Mrs. Myers?" I called to get her attention.

    "Miss," the mother corrected me immediately. "Miss Grace Myers," she said quickly. Her eyes darted around the cops in uniform.

    "I''m sorry for the mixup, Grace. I assume you know why you have been called?" I asked tentatively.

    "Yes. Carol will be interviewed for being one of the first people who arrived." Her voice was t. No sign of panic when she was talking about her daughter being at the scene. This meant that she didn''t know her daughter did anything. Then, there was something else that frightened her. Not the people, that I could tell...

    She had done something else wrong. How fascinating. If only that was on the agenda today. I shook it off.

    "That''s correct. If you don''t mind, can we talk to Carol in the interview rooms? You can sit in if you want," I said slowly.

    "Do we need awyer?" she asked quickly. I shook my head.

    "We''re hoping to get a clear insight into the scene after the first discovery. Carol isn''t in any danger," I assured her. I knelt down beside Carol and smiled at her. "What do you think? Is it okay if I talk to you?" I asked.

    "Yes, I was so curious about you and what happened. Can I ask you some questions, too?" she had an angelic voice, like bell chimes. Just like her name insisted. Her eyes were icy blue and the piercing look in her eyes was disconcerting for most.

    I bounced back on my feet and held my hand out to her. "Come, do you want some hot chocte? Or do you like anything else?" I asked.

    She craned her neck to look at me. "Can I get a hot chocte and some soda?" she asked in that tiny voice of hers. I chuckled and nodded.

    "As you wish," I told her. Good thing we had a machine at the station for both. I made her a big mug of hot chocte and left the c forter. "You just came inside. It''s getting cold outside, so warm yourself up." I helped her into the room and after she sat down, I scooted over to take my seat beside her.

    I hade with no pen or paper and no pictures of proof to show her. As a child, there was no need for me to interrogate her. I would just ask her questions to gauge her reaction.

    "So, can you tell me what you were doing when you saw the other kids find Tyler?" I asked. She took a small sip and mulled over her answer.

    "I had just gone over to y with the girls," she replied. "They came out screaming from the shed, you know? Like they couldn''t handle someone lying on the floor. Stupid," she grinned maliciously.

    "They screamed?" I asked, pretending not to hear what she was saying. Marked sadism was present in her words. Moreover, she knew Tyler was lying on the floor. It could be that the other kids had told her, but it was something to consider.

    "And what happened then?" I asked.

    "Oh, they were iling around, saying that Tyler was hurt." She clucked her tongue. She was tapping her finger on the table as she remembered the scene. "He wasn''t hurt," she imed.

    "He wasn''t?" I asked. She shrugged not saying more. "So, who called the cops?" It continued on and she gave details about everyone who was there, including the police officers and who talked to who.

    She was a very intelligent girl, but her eyes were frightening.

    "Do you know Tyler well?" I asked.

    "Nope." She emphasized the ''p''.

    "Oh, I thought you were familiar with him. Wasn''t that why you waited to watch?" I coaxed. Say something. Questioning kids was definitely hard, especially because you couldn''t put pressure on them or use maniptive techniques. That was hical.

    "No, I wanted to watch you guys try and figure everything out." She burst into giggles.

    "Oh?" That was all I said.

    "It was funny. All those people fluttering around, trying to figure out how Tyler died!" And sheughed andughed.

    Well, there you have it. No one apart from the parents knew that Tyler was dead. We had not allowed them to say a word to the others. I paused and stared at her. I could see that she wanted to say more. A lot more.

    "But you are different, you know? Your eyes... they look like mine," she whispered. I pressed my lips together, taking in her implication.

    "Is that so?" Imented. "Carol, Tyler isn''t dead," I said. That was the official statement. I wasn''t manipting this little girl, I told myself.

    She stopped and gaped at me. "Of course he is dead!" she imed. I shook my head. "I thought you wouldn''t lie... He is dead."

    "Why do you think so?" I asked cidly.

    "I saw him, lying right beside the rake and he wasn''t breathing." Her voice was low, but I was sure the camera had captured it.

    "You saw him? When?" I asked. She blinked and tilted her head to the side.

    "I saw him. Before the kids came in," she said. She hadn''t said she was the one who had done it. And I certainly wasn''t going to pin it on her until she said it herself.

    "Why didn''t you call the adults?" I asked, sounding confused.

    "Because they would know," she said. "I don''t want them to know..." she hung her head.

    "What do you not want them to know?" I asked cautiously.

    "That..." she stopped. "They''re too big, so I can''t scare them away."

    "Who''s too big?" Damnit. She was abused, undoubtedly. She wouldn''t say. She wouldn''t say another word. She screamed and threw a fit all of a sudden. Between her calm answers and the screaming, five minutes had passed. I had been nothing but polite and understanding so I was bbergasted.

    It was Nash who barrelled into the room. He looked at me with shock and confusion. I was bewildered and out of my wit. Carol jumped towards him and circled her arms around his leg. She buried her face into his thigh and then asked him to take her out of the room.

    I sat, jaw-cked as she was led out.

    I could hear Carol''s mother shouting outside. Nash pulled me outside.

    "The mother wants to know what happened," Nash whispered. "Evie, tell me!"

    I stared at him for a second. "She was saying some things... pretty incriminating things and she turned to talk about adults being too big to scare away... I asked her who she meant and she mped up. She was silent for a long time and then she screamed bloody murder." My voice was hollow. Nash patted my shoulder.

    "Great work. She was trying to evade you, okay? I''m sorry it startled you. You didn''t do anything wrong." He stroked my back.

    She had intentionally screamed so that people thought I had done something wrong. And yes, that was what people thought. Grace was one of them.

    "You said you wanted to ask some questions! She''s shaking with fear. What did you do to her?" the woman wailed.

 Chapter 113: Shred of Control

    Chapter 113: Shred of Control

    Mothers had strong instincts to protect their offsprings but her words were rehearsed. Theck of emotion and the slight trace of nervousness gave her away. I nced towards Carol and found her peering at me from behind her mother, her eyes curious and devoid of panic.

    I stared right into Grace''s eyes as I apologized. "I''m sorry, Grace. I think the whole incident spooked her." I bowed to show sincerity.

    "I will sue you if this hurts her mental health," she yelled. She dragged Carol out of the station and the others stared.

    "I''m sorry for the inconvenience," I said softly to everyone. When I went back to Nash''s side, Sebastian had alreadye out.

    "So, what is the n?" he asked. I thought about it for a minute.

    "She said some troubling things about adults and being at the scene before everyone. Can we use the interview tapes to get child protective services to go to her house? Do a welfare check?" I asked.

    Nash thought about it for a moment. "Not a bad idea. We''ll say you were suspicious and find out the living conditions, talk to neighbors about the people whoe in and out. We''ll give the officers a heads up to search through everything and see if we can find more clues."

    Sebastian was stoic. "A child serial killer, huh? Why did she scream, though?"

    "I think she wanted to say more but her mother had taught her not to answer questions about herself and her life. She took a long pause before deciding on screaming."

    "A smart girl," Sebastian responded. I red at him. "Oh shush, you''re still the smartest girl I know. Don''t be jealous of a nine-year-old."

    I sighed.

    "That is not what I meant!" I gritted through my teeth. "You''re too excited to find a young female serial killer," I discerned.

    He nodded enthusiastically. "Ask Nash how prominent this find is!" Nash nodded in agreement. "Rarely do we get female serial killers. It is not that there are fewer female serial killers but that they go unnoticed and the police force is indoctrinated to think a female incapable of such a heinous crime." He clucked his tongue. "That is still findable, but young serial killers are harder to spot. Mostly, male serial killers experiment with animals and explore their fantasies. Female children rarely exhibit this. But when they do exhibit such tendencies, they don''t go for animals... they go for humans." He raised his brow.

    "I understand all of this but we need to take into consideration how young this girl is and how we should approach her." I implored.

    "A checkup from social services, a police officer follows them and interviews the neighbors. We also need to bring on the child psychologist to talk to Carol and we shall have more answers." I nodded.

    "The psychiatrist would be good. I don''t think any of us are trained to talking to Carol." I clucked my tongue. This was something I needed to explore. How was I supposed to hone this skill?

    The next morning, I filled out the form and Nash called the social service. I yed the footage, emphasizing the portion that bothered me the most.

    The middle-aged woman who hade looked sad beyond belief. "This is so sad. If she ismitting crimes topensate for the abuse she is suffering, it is the most unfortunate oue." I could see her eyes redden as she dabbed at the corner.

    "Did you say anything to make her scream here?" She watched the footage of her scream quite a few times, frightening the officers a few times.

    I shook my head, supplying all the answers politely. I knew by then that questions were part of the procedure and to make sure everything was well documented and public resources not misused. I would oblige with the procedure any day if it made my job easier.

    "Whatever I said is documented in the video," I announced. "If you look carefully, she pauses and thinks about what she will do next." I paused at the exact location and the silence on her part carried on for a while. "And here she starts screaming. You will see that she has finally decided." I yed the next segment as well.

    "Positively fascinating," the woman murmured. "I would love if youe with us," she said.

    "The mother doesn''t want me anywhere near the girl. She was very nervous when she entered the station and equally enraged and terrified when Carol came out. I think she feared Carol would say something incriminating which would get the mother in trouble."

    "Guilty conscience, huh?" The woman took diligent notes and then took two police officers for the trip. "I''ll inform you if I find anything."

    A few hourster, we received a callback. Apparently, they had hit a bullseyes.

    Bags upon bags of evidence came in and everyone gaped. It was rare for such vivid evidence to be found against any criminal, so when a diary was ced on the table in front of me, I twitched with delight.

    The face mask was on and I was leading every page. The actions Carol was asked tomit were very vile and sometimes sexual in nature. I read through how the elderly gentlemen would treat her when she ventured out of her room. What kind of acts those strange men would ask her to perform.

    Carol had no idea exactly what she was doing but she was doing it unwillingly.

    Then came the magnificent admission of crime. "I end a life to return." Very ominous words. Pages upon pages showing the exact location of the body in the first and second crime scene and how she had murdered each boy. The details were so precise that no one who had not seen the scene themselves would be able to rey it so fully.

    "Here," Nashmented, pulling a page in front of my face. "She says that only by bullying girls who are older than her does she feel in control. That through controlling their actions she can finally feel powerful."

    I bit my lip. "Most children her age have no sense of right and wrong with demand to murder. But when you talk to her and read about how she writes about snuffing away someone''s life, you will find that she is oddly prepared. She speaks about living in Hell but now that she was living in the one of her choosing."

    He clucked his tongue.

    "She''s very civil," Sebastian peered from over her shoulder. "How did she kill the kids?" he asked.

    "She hadn''t nned any of the kills, really. She found ces that she could easily ess but didn''t try to conceal herself." I scrunched up my brow. "She saw that Patrick had a sore throat and lured him into the abandoned house in pretext of helping him cure the sore throat."

    Sebastian nodded sagely. "He said that pressing her the neck down would cure Patrick''s throat. So, she watched his life drain away from his body."

    How cruel.

    "This can only mean that she didn''t do it as an experiment but with the controlled intent of killing Patrick." Nash looked like he had found a treasure.

    "We need to bring her mother, Grace in. Also, the psychologist." Nash scrubbed his face.

    "We''ll be pping interested interviewers away with how much attention you will get. Evie, stay alert and see that no one escapes your eyes."

    The woman from the social service spoke up, atst. "As I walked through the house, I saw equipment for violent sex acts scattered throughout the house. They had been recently used and some had been out in the open for a couple of days." She paused and gave them an intent look. "The little girl was no doubt exposed and probably made to watch her mother engage in violent sexual activities since a young age. I also found evidence that she was participating in them."

    Unwillingly, of course. A child was unable to consent to such a horrible situation.

    "Whatever they used to physically beat her must have hurt but not left a mark for there is no sign of scar on her body." She looked enraged.

    "Ah, the body is a tricky thing. Even though there is no scar, the injury lurks under the flesh. It haunts those inflicted by it." I whispered. "And it turns you into a monster." Pain was a cruel feeling which turned the most rational person into a dehumanized lump of flesh.

    "There is no doubt that this girl would turn to inflicting pain on others, it is just surprising how quickly she has started." There was silence in the room.

    "We will have to run some tests to understand her neurological and physical state or if it nurtures psychopathy. Also, the psychiatrist will have to take multiple sessions with her before we get an answer that we can present in court."

    What a roundabout way of getting everything out.

    Two warrants were out: one against the name of Grace Myers for abuse and neglect of her daughter and the other asking Carol to be brought to the station for further investigation.

    The media was in a frenzy. One look at the blonde-haired angel and the ripples broke through the narrative. No one knew who called the media so early, but the feeding frenzy had begun. The world''s fascination with serial killers was horrifying but most of all, this little child''s privacy was at stake.

    No matter if she had killed someone. She deserved her dignity. Furthermore, she deserved some shred of control and love... something she had not received in a long time.

 Chapter 114: Crushed Pills and Betrayal

    Chapter 114: Crushed Pills and Betrayal

    The child psychiatrist was brought in. She was a professor at some fancy university. A woman in herte thirties, she had no children of her own. She sat down and watched the tapes and read through the diary.

    "This is very helpful," she said. "I will try to talk to her about everything but we need to separate her from her mother."

    She pointedly looked towards us. "You''re thinking that her mother will try to intercept the conversation?" I asked.

    "Yes, she has written what was done to her so her mother must have said some things to keep her from spilling to the police. We need to separate the two. You can interrogate the mother and I can talk to the child. When I get a full ount of everything that happened, I will file charges against the mother as a medical representative. We can get thempletely separated that way."

    "And after that? I will have to diagnose her, probably put her on medication and re-interview her several times." That sounded like a lot of work.

    "Thank you. Do you want to start?" I asked. Thedy nodded.

    "Okay, we need to take her to a cozy room and not one of the interrogation rooms," she announced. I took note of her demand and nodded. I turned to Nash.

    "Can we take the side staff-room for a bit? I''ll set up the camera and everything." I pleaded. I wanted to do right by this child.

    "We''ll clear out the room in no time." Everything was settled and Carol was taken to the room. She took one look at me and then shook her head in disapproval.

    "I want to talk to her," she said stubbornly pointing towards me. I stood stunned and waited for her to say something else.

    "You don''t like me?" the psychiatrist asked.

    Carol shook her head. "I do like you. You smell nice but she betrayed me." Her eyes were using.

    I betrayed her? How was that?

    I knelt down beside her, my face right in front of her. "How did I betray you, Carol?" I asked softly.

    "Your eyes. They are like mine, so I told you a little. But you told everyone." She pouted.

    "My eyes are like yours?" I enquired. I kind of knew what she meant. My gaze was often disconcerting. One psychopath could sense another and one tormented soul another. Now, the question was... which one did she sense?

    "Yes, I saw your eyes at the crime scene. That''s why I wanted to talk to you." She sneered. "You even brought me hot chocte. So, I thought."

    I looked helplessly at the psychiatrist. "If you want Evie to sit in, we can arrange that," she said helpfully. My eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then I too nodded, back in control. I informed Sebastian of the change in n and then went back inside the room.

    "Sit beside her," the psychiatrist insisted in a whisper. "She identifies with you. I''ll ask her more about why she feels that way, okay? Don''t be shy and help her this once." I stared.

    "Thank you for letting me in. I wanted to learn how to interview kids, too," I admitted. The psychiatrist smiled.

    "From what I saw, you have the bases covered. You are warm and caring and don''t use them. You ignited her curiosity and coaxed her to talk. You did the best you could." Albeit, I had done it poorly.

    I bowed and then brought up the warm nkets I had found. Carol was sitting on the couch, looking around the room like the curious child that she was.

    "Do you want a nket?" I asked. Carol looked at it for a second and then nodded. I put it over her legs and smiled at her.

    "Can you bring me some soda, too?" she asked. I could see why someone would follow her without thinking she was harmful. The small body, weak limbs, and keen eyes made you want to trust and protect her. For a young boy to blindly follow, it made sense.

    "We already gave you a cup, remember?" I gave her a cup of hot cocoa. She took it and frowned. She didn''t thank me. Which was okay. It was okay that she felt no gratitude for small things. She shouldn''t with the life she had led. She deserved to get the world handed to her.

    "Let''s begin, shall we?" the psychiatrist asked. The camera had already been rolling. I sat beside Carol, a little distance between us. She looked at me curiously and scooted closer. I threw a nce towards the psychiatrist and she gave me a cautious nod.

    "What is your full name?" she asked. Carol didn''t stir. It took two more tries for her to speak.

    "Carol Myers," she said.

    "My, what a beautiful name you have. Who named you?" The tone was conversational, but the reply nothing but.

    "I don''t know. I don''t think my mother gave it to me." She shrugged.

    "Why do you think that?" the psychiatrist asked.

    "She never pays much attention to me. I remain in my room or go out to y most of the time."

    "She doesn''t pay attention to you? Why do you think that?" It was standard procedure. The questions were textbook so that we could get the difference between what the child thought was true and what was reality. Having read the diaries, we had some insight into what had happened to her.

    "She''s locked up with those men all day long," she hissed. "She barelyes out and when she does, she asks me to follow her." She hung her head.

    "What do you eat then?" the psychiatrist asked.

    "She usually leaves a piece of bread, milk, and banana from me. I eat that." My jaw ticked. That was true. Social services had checked the fridge. The food was scarce, some stale bread, expired milk and bananas were all they found. From neighbors, they knew that Grace rarely left the house and often had delivery boys bring over takeout food in between her sessions.

    "Why didn''t you tell anyone?" she asked.

    "I did. I told the neighbors but they couldn''t do anything. They sometimes invited me over to their house for meals." She paused. "They offer you meals once or twice but then they get scared that you will have meals with them every day, so they stop helping you. The pity in their eyes makes me angry."

    She balled her little hands into fists.

    "And the men in the house?" the psychiatrist broached the topic with hesitation.

    "Filthy," she sneered. "They know nothing about manners. Theye in at all times of the day and never stay for long." And there it was... the reluctance to speak. She had spoken about the follies of her mother but never spoke of the men. Why was that?

    "You don''t like them, I see..." ten more minutes of going in circles and she started to speak about how she had seen them in different states of undress, the way they had touched her or hit her.

    "I don''t want to see a man ever again!" she imed. So, this anger towards the whole sex had what led her to murder. Kids because they didn''t have the strength to hurt her. But how did she know she had an urge to kill? That was the question.

    "And your mother? You don''t hate her?" The question was asked softly.

    Carol remained silent for a solid moment. "I don''t hate her. She''s my mother. At least she lets me stay at home and feeds me something. She didn''t kill me..." she trailed off. A spark of interest passed both the psychiatrist and my mind. Now, this raised a question which we could interrogate the mother over. It was definitely not over the statute of limitations, so.

    "What do you mean she didn''t kill you?" The thing about kids was that they didn''t understand thew. They didn''t understand that something that happened long ago or didn''t seed was still considered a crime.

    "My mom fed me these crushed pills. You know, she would put them in my milk and I would feel so woozy all the time." She shook her head at the memory.

    "Were you sick? Was that why she was giving you the medicine?" the psychiatrist asked, leaving out all signs of horror from her voice.

    "No, I wasn''t sick. She said they were vitamins." She looked down at her hands. "My mom took one every night and I read that they were for sleeping."

    "Did you see her put them into your milk?" she asked.

    "Yeah. She would put in a lot of pills at once. She used to grind the medicine, so I always knew she was putting it in."

    "And when it made you woozy, you still drank it?" She shook her head.

    "Sometimes, the medicine would knock me out and I would wake up after a long time. So, I stopped taking the milk for a while."

    So, the mother had been experimenting with medication. Because it was something she took every day, no one would suspect her. They would think the girl was curious and had ingested too many pills. Grace had dozed up on the pills to make it look seamless. Pure evil.

 Chapter 115: Empty Inside

    Chapter 115: Empty Inside

    "Does she still give you the milk?" the psychiatrist asked. Carol shook her head.

    "I didn''t take it for a couple of weeks, so she thought the effect was wearing off on me. I don''t know what motivated her, but she stopped putting the pills in the milk." She frowned. "They tasted horrid, too."

    To think a mother wouldn''t take that into factor, either. But why did this mother want to get rid of her own child?

    "But do you know why your mother did so?" I found myself asking. The psychiatrist gave me a pointed look. Carol turned to me, burying her face in my arm. It was a maniptive tactic to make me feel sorry for her. I did feel sorry for what had happened to her, but that didn''t mean she would escape the consequences.

    "I don''t think she wants me in her life anymore. She was talking to one of her boyfriends a while back about how she wished I was never born." Her voice was low and emotionless. "She thought I was sleeping but I was awake. She told them that it was hard to feed a child and that I was expensive and high maintenance." She hung her head.

    There was still time to tell her that her mother waszy and a scumbag for making her believe she was unwanted and easily disposable. Right now, all I could think was the ns to get rid of her, and the shock of hearing her mother say such vile things had urged her to try her hand at choking someone.

    "If you had something to say to her, what would you say?" Carol looked intrigued.

    "I would wish that I had never been born, either." She shrugged. That left me in agony. "No man or woman should bring a child into the world if they cannot take care of it. I am old enough to know that she is a whore and she still can get unemployment benefits and food from several government schemes, but she chose not to do it because she needed to show off she was well off to the men who sauntered into the home at all hours of the day to fuck my mother."

    Thenguage was so crude that I could see what she heard on a daily basis.

    "What did you call her?" the psychiatrist beckoned. The words were said so calmly and with a detachment that I couldn''t see the hatred for her mother. It was all matter-of-fact.

    "A whore. That''s what they call her, right?" She went on to jot down the various names people called her mother and her. "I was actually curious why the men and mother seemed to enjoy such an uncivilized and messy act but when they asked me to join in... I was baffled." The child didn''t flinch away.

    Something inside her was changed. Or was it something that had been inside her and had been activated due to abuse? So many questions, such little information.

    "And you don''t feel bad calling her that? It is a derogatory term."

    Carol looked bewildered. "I don''t understand why. People are calling her what she is. It''s like calling a rose a rose. She indeed is a whore, so she is called a whore. She enjoys being called that, too. Just not outside our home."

    I patted her hand. "But why are none of you asking me anything about Patrick and Tyler?" she blinked in confusion. "Is that not why you called me?"

    I stared in confusion. "You used the olderdy to bring me out of the house, didn''t you?" she turned to me with a calcting look. "I don''t know why you thought bringing me out in front of everyone and iming my mother is bad helped me. Now everyone knows what she is and I can''t stay with her." She rolled her eyes. "You adults think you know everything. Did I ask you to help me? You just poked your nose into my situation because you felt it would make you feel better about yourself." She paused. She had more to say, I could see from the look in her eyes.

    "But you never think about the consequences of your actions. What will happen to me next? My mother will be arrested on charges of prostitution, child abuse, attempted murder, and soliciting a child if I am not wrong. And I? I killed two kids but you can''t do anything to punish me. Then? What happens to me? No one will take in a kid who murdered others because they found pleasure in it. Then, do I roam the streets?"

    The psychiatrist was shocked but both of us kept our expressions hidden.

    "Who told you that your mother will be charged? Or that you won''t be punished?" The emphasis was not on the person who told her but the implication was that the information was wrong. The statement had revealed that she thought adults particrly selfish and those that did things to wet their conscience.

    "One of my mother''s friends," she said matter-of-factly. The psychiatrist''s face lit up with excitement. We had found out about another yer who was unknown to us before.

    "Oh, do you like her very much?" she asked. Carol scrunched her nose.

    "Who told you the friend was a girl? He''s a boy. He''s one of my mother''s boyfriends. But he''s nice. He didn''t ask me to watch my mother being fucked like the others. He didn''t hurt me, either." She supplied us with a small smile.

    "He sounds really nice," the psychiatrist stated. "Then, do you think he would take you in? You''re close with him, right?" The information was necessary. We needed all people who nurtured her growth to be interviewed.

    "No, hees every week but he told me I wouldn''t see him any longer." She frowned. "Something about me being given over to someone who was just like him."

    Someone who was just like him.

    "And how is he?" the psychiatrist asked. Carol looked up with a menacing smile.

    "Like me, of course. One look in his eye and you will know that he is a good man. But he''s empty, too. Just like me."

    Empty. Carol turned to me. "I see it in you too. The emptiness. Are you the one he was speaking of?" she asked, her tilted to the side.

    "I don''t know the man you are speaking about," I admitted. It intrigued me, though. He had given her to someone just like him. And this man was just like this little girl?

    So, he had an urge to kill. I mulled it over in my head.

    "And how did he know you were just like him?" I asked, my eyes trained on her.

    "I was allowed to bring over a few friends for a sleepover a couple of months ago," she admitted conspiratorially. I raised my brow. "Of course, no one came to find my mother and we were ying in the living area for a long time at night."

    ying. "The girls wanted to see who was most strong so we ended up wrestling." She smirked at the memory. "I had seen some of the men choke my mother so I tried it on a girl." She started to giggle, frightening the psychiatrist. "It was so much fun. Her face became so red and she was struggling to breathe. The others didn''t pull me off so I watched for a while." She was staring at her open palm in fascination. "He walked in on this happening and pulled me off the girl." She rolled her eyes.

    "He saw you?" I confirmed.

    "Yeah, he brought it aside and asked me what I was doing. So I told him." Silence.

    "What did he say?"

    "He smiled. He said he was proud of me for finally realizing my potential. So he taught me how to strangle someone. He knew I enjoyed watching them struggle and seeing the light in their eyes slowly fade, so he told me how I could do that."

    I felt my body freeze. A man who was proficient in the art of murder had helped another budding killer to hone her art and realize her fantasy. What kind of wretched story was this?

    "Did he also teach you how to cut?" the psychiatrist asked. She shook her head.

    "No, he didn''t like that one bit. He said that I had ruined his n by doing it." She stared at the two of us. "Why did he say that? He said that me doing it gave you all a clue to who I was." She frowned.

    "Did you not want to be found?" I asked. She had made it abundantly clear that she was ying the cat and mouse game. She wanted people to know how she was living, but at the same time, she knew that it would not help her situation. Therefore, confusion arose.

    "No," she said. "I never consulted him about where I would strangle them or who it would be. He told me to follow my heart and create the art that I wanted to."

    Create art.

    "And your heart followed you there." She nodded vehemently.

    "But don''t be frustrated. It is not my mother''s fault that I am this way. I had always been like this," she smiled. "It is thanks to her that I found out how much I like it."

    She wished to thank her mother.

    "You have no resentment for her?" I asked, incredulous.

    "No, I don''t. And if you had any sense in you. You wouldn''t resent yourself or your circumstances either. You keep those urges bottled up too much. No wonder he passed me on to you." She rolled her eyes and scooted away from me.

    What did this mean? And how was I supposed to read the meaning between the lines?

 Chapter 116: The Man in the White Shirt

    Chapter 116: The Man in the White Shirt

    "I have no idea whom you are talking about," I admitted. Carol looked at me, her lips pressed together into a thin line.

    "He seemed to know you, though." Her scowl showed her confusion.

    "Does he?" I asked with interest. "Can you tell me how he looks? Maybe I will remember him." It was a calcted sentence made to make her feelfortable enough, to tell the truth. She thought about it a bit.

    "He has a warm smile and cold eyes. Empty but full of mischief." She smiled in memory.

    I looked at the psychiatrist and she took the cue immediately.

    "What was his hair like?" she asked quickly so that the strain of thought could not be disrupted.

    Carol looked at her dumbfounded. "I... I don''t remember." Our jaws dropped.

    "You don''t remember how he looks?" the psychiatrist asked. In her voice, I could hear the disbelief and suspicion that Carol was lying. I nced at her and saw her appraising our expressions. I remained careful to conceal my emotions and gave her an encouraging smile.

    "Just tell us whatever you remember. When you looked at him, what was the first thing you thought?" By turning the question, I could make her think that she wasn''t revealing his face, but get integral information on this man.

    "Hard to read," she said without a doubt. That was an odd thing to say about someone.

    "Why do you say that?" the psychiatrist asked. "You just said that he had empty eyes and a warm smile." My mind turned with possibilities.

    "I don''t know. I couldn''t see his expression." She shrugged. I gave the psychiatrist a pointed look.

    "Do you have a hard time reading people''s expressions and understanding what they mean?" Lack of empathy or inability to read expressions could be a big lead towards why she chose to do this.

    "Yes. People don''t like me because I don''t understand why they react in certain ways, so I have to pretend that I understand sometimes. That''s why I enjoy hurting them. I don''t need to pretend when I do that. I feel something..." she stared at her hand with a longing.

    Something around the lines of anti-social personality disorder, it seemed. She could have been born with it or it may have been caused due to continued trauma, the reason would have to be found out.

    "Is that so..." the psychiatrist trailed off. "And this man... do you know his name? The one who helped you feel and taught you that it was okay not to pretend?"

    "He never said his name..." she frowned. "My mother would know. I have seen him a couple of times at home," she said with ack of interest. "Why do you keep asking about him?" she looked almost offended.

    "Because you said he knows me. I''ll have to ask him why he entrusted you to me, don''t you think?" I patted her head. "That way I can take care of you. You trust his judgment, right?"

    She smiled. Still, it was fake. This, I hade to realize. She had been faking all her emotions for the most part.

    She nodded. It really was easy to fool her. "I really don''t remember how he looked."

    "Was there anything particr about him that you remember? Something that differentiated him from other people?" the psychiatrist asked gently, trying to jog her memory.

    "He always wore a white shirt," she said. She looked at me for confirmation. I had nothing to tell her. "I remember nothing else about him."

    We tried a lot of things with her, changing questions to the point that they were vague inclinations, but she refused to say more. We understood some things from this.

    Carol had antisocial personality tendencies from her tendency. We would have to run further tests and psychological evaluations to be sure.

    She was abused and made to watch her mother engage in violent sexual activity from a young and it changed how she looked at sex or intimacy. She saw sexual activity and reproductive organs as a tool to exert power over another person, therefore the act of choking someone and mutting their sexual organ became her signature. The act of exerting power over another person made her feel powerful like she was unable to feel in her own home.

    She felt alive when she was killing someone. This was what she kept referring to as feeling empty. The fantasy made her feel like other people, someone who didn''t need to pretend like they feel in the same capacity as other people do. This is explicitly what she meant when she wrote that only through killing someone could she return. She was not only talking about returning in the sense that she would kill again, but that killing made her feel alive.

    This man who had inspired her and taught her the ropes of killing had either asked her to keep silent about him or she actually didn''t remember what he looked like. It was unlikely that it was the first. Carol had been tight-lipped about her mother when I interviewed her the first time, which meant she was fully capable of keeping secrets. If this mystery man had asked her to keep silent, Carol wouldn''t say a word about him. He had probably instructed Carol to tell us that he existed and that he had lent a helping hand to a poor girl who needed to escape her prison. But if that was the case, then what was the motive of this man?

    I would need to interview Grace to get to know her customers. She probably wouldn''t be able to identify this mystery man from the white shirt and warm smile that Carol described, but it was worth a try.

    When we came out of the staff room, I had already wrapped up the camera and tucked it under my arm. Grace was sitting outside, waiting for her daughter nervously. She must not have known what was happening yet, because she seemed too nervous about her little business bing known. She had no clue what her daughter had done. A police officer stood beside her, keeping guard and ensuring she doesn''t run. I let the psychiatrist and the social security officer take Carol away and gave a pointed re towards the mother.

    "What did the brat say?" Grace asked after me. I stopped mid-step and looked over my shoulder.

    "Is that what bothers you?" I asked incredulously.

    "What does that mean? Just know that the girl lies a lot. Whatever she told you was a lie," she demanded. I sighed.

    "Please take her to Interrogation Room 2, I''ll be there shortly," I told the officer. He nodded and bowed before grabbing Grace and taking her towards the room.

    "I can walk myself!" she protested, shaking the officer away.

    I shook my head as I made my way to Nash and Sebastian''s office. I knocked before entering. "Come in!" I heard from inside. When they saw me, they ushered me in and sat me down.

    "Did it go well?" Nash asked.

    "As well as it could go on a primary psychiatrist sitting. You''ll get a psychiatrist evaluation in a day or so, but we will need two more psychiatrists to take to Carol. I think it''s antisocial personality disorder. She can''t empathize or read expressions. She told us that she was pretending to be normal like other people and the only time she feels like she is like others is when she hurts someone else."

    Sebastian nodded. "What was the trigger?" he asked.

    "She had a sleepover at her house with some of her bully friends and they were wrestling. She tried to choke someone and took it too far. Almost. She realized that she liked it when she saw the raw fear and life leaving someone''s body." Both raised their brows.

    "That''s not all." They waited with bated breaths. "Someone stopped her from doing it. A client of the mother. He took her aside and inspired her to kill properly. He taught her that choking slowly doesn''t leave marks and demonstrated on Carol''s mother."

    Nash looked bbergasted. "There is an aplice?" he squeaked. I shook my head.

    "Not an aplice. Someone who provided her with the tools to kill. This guy had empty eyes but a warm smile, apparently," I reiterated. "But Carol isn''t good at understanding expressions." I hung my head. "This guy... she ims that she doesn''t remember his face: just his eyes and smile. Oh, and that he wore a white shirt."

    "A white shirt, teaching someone how to kill discreetly... we have a psychopath with a godplex on our hands," Nash concluded.

    "No, not just that," Sebastian interjected. "This man knows how to choke someone to leave no evidence. He knows criminal procedure or reads about it."

    "No, he knows the criminal procedure," I imed. "Carol knew exactly what was going to happen to her after she admitted to killing those people. She knew what was going to happen to her mother, too."

    "This sounds like someone we have encountered before," Sebastian said inly.

    "What does that mean? Who?" Nash looked confused.

    "The guy from earlier," I said. Sebastian gave me a smile.

    "Point for Evie. It is the same guy who supplied the files on the victims in the Magician case," he said.

    "Okay, let''s not jump to conclusions," Nash protested. "We don''t have enough evidence for that."

    "Actually, we do. There was a reason why Carol kept staring at me. The guy in white told her that when the police took her away, someone like her and the guy would take care of her. Carol thought the man was talking about me but I think he was talking about Sebastian."

    "And why so?" Nash asked, now concerned.

    "The guy said that this person would understand. That they wouldn''t need to pretend any longer." Everyone fell into thoughtfulness.

    "Sebastian..." Nash trailed off.

    "It seems I will be the one interrogating the mother, then." Sebastian stood up and shoved his hand into his pocket. "Nash, you don''t mind if I steal the case from you, do you?"

    "Well, now that there is a target ced on your back, I think you should have a go. Just thirty minutes. After that I will take over!" Nash imed. Sebastian red at him.

    "You never give up a case, do you?" Sebastian chuckled and walked out.

    "Interrogation Room 2," I called after him and he waved in acknowledgment. "I''ll go. Here are the tapes." I handed over the equipment and was about to leave.

    "Evie," Nash stopped me. "Just be careful, okay?" I smiled.

    It felt nice to have people worry about you. "I will." With that, I went out.

    Now, it was time to give hell to the child abuser.

 Chapter 117: Professional Ethics

    Chapter 117: Professional Ethics

    I entered the room shortly after Sebastian. When I saw how she was eyeing Sebastian, I felt a clench in my gut. Those were the eyes of a woman who wanted... no, wanted to snatch the man in front of them. The lust oozing from her eyes made me almost mad. Here she was, being interrogated because she abused her child but all she could think about was herself.

    How did one get so selfish? How did one think only of themselves when they hadmitted such heinous crimes against another person?

    She noticed me muchter than expected, only when I took a seat beside Sebastian. Her face twisted into a rage and she clenched her fist. Seeing how my eyes traveled down to see them, she quickly pulled them under the table in a manner of defense.

    The stage was set. I knew that she was going to withhold as much information as she could so as to save herself.

    "Your name please," I asked, my voice level and calm. I was surprised that I could hold in my feelings. They almost overwhelmed me. First, it was the abuse and neglect of a child who had be a murderer and then the look on her face that insulted every mother on the, and dare I say me. She had no business being this carefree.

    "I will tell you nothing," she hissed at me.

    "Why not?" I asked, my voice still calm.

    "I don''t know how you manipted my daughter to say things against me, but she is lying!" she said once again. I tried my best to keep in the ticking of my jaw. I was very easily irritated with this woman.

    "That is why we must talk to you and confirm what is real and what is not," Sebastian interjected before I could formte a reply. She turned to him with dreamy eyes and nodded.

    "Thank you for understanding me. That girl is nothing but a maniptive bitch. She''s been hell-bent on ruining my life since she was born." She sighed as if her life was tragic.

    "Can you start with your name? We will listen to every word you have to say," Sebastian promised. I knew the tactic he was using. He was using her amour towards him to make everything into a confession. Like a sinner talking to the father in the church to absolve them. He was giving her a chance to confess and make known her side of the story so that she didn''t look as bad as Carol had painted her out to be.

    The age-old trick, just with a new twist.

    "Grace Myers," she said finally.

    "And what is your age?" Sebastian asked. There was no point in me asking any questions as she would be affronted and rebel against anything I said or insinuated. Because I had interviewed Carol, I would have to sit in, but my presence was more of a hindrance.

    I saw her surreptitiously nce towards me and I saw a sh of victory. Suddenly I realized why I was important in this conversation: I was acting as the person she would show off to. Because of myck of rapport with her, she would speak more and try to convince Sebastian. He would either grab her cues and question her or leave it to me totch onto the inconsistencies in her words and heighten the heat of the interrogation.

    I stared at the side of his face and wanted to kick his foot in irritation. So, the bad cop was my role.

    "I am twenty-five-years old. I had my daughter when I was seventeen and got pregnant the year before." She giggled nervously. "The father was a popr ser yer in high school. We had a romp now and then and I ended up like a dumb teenager, pregnant and having to drop out of school to hide what I had done. My mother wasn''t pleased. Thank god, they passed away soon and left the house to me."

    What an evil woman, thanking the heavens for her parent''s demise.

    "It must have been hard raising a girl on your own. Can you tell me what your usual routine looks like?" he asked.

    She bit her lip as her eyes roamed over the room. She was cooking up a story that would be believable but from what she knew, nothing would absolve her of her crime.

    "My usual day starts with me waking up and showering and then I make some food for the brat. Which she never eats, for some reason, and then I start work for the day."

    "Right, thank you... what do you make for breakfast or lunch or dinner?" he asked.

    "I don''t have much time because I work a lot, so I usually go with milk and bananas and bread." Sebastian quietened down.

    "Why don''t you make anything else or ask someone to help out?" he asked.

    "I don''t have the money to," she said. "Would I be working so hard and taking care of a child alone if I had the money to get a babysitter?" she asked.

    Sebastian kicked my chair. I knew it was my cue to speak up.

    "We only found bread, bananas, and milk in your house. You have admitted to the same, hence I will have to point out to you that you are not providing enough nutrition to your child. The child needs to have twelve hundred calories a day and all five food groups which you have not been able to give her. We have also confirmed with Carol that you rarely pack a lunch for school or give her money. You have fed her only one meal a day on most days and neglected your duty to feed your child." The woman was about to speak up again.

    "Grace, do you have anything to say?" Sebastian interjected before I could say more.

    "She lied. I give her food. I know it is not much but I can''t afford other meals," her voice shook. Another lie.

    "You collected all your bills and receipts, Grace. We know what you bring as grocery and we know all the takeout you order and eat yourself without giving it to your child. Why?" he asked softly.

    She remained silent for a long time. "Tell me, Grace. Everything looks so bad for you. Give me a reason to believe that you are not starving your child purposefully."

    She gulped. "She doesn''t eat what I give her. And she talks back all the time. She screams and that creepy look in her eye. God, I hate it. I feel like she will kill me in my sleep so I punish her. She knows that she will only get full meals when she is a good girl."

    Everything was piling up. "Okay, but why doesn''t she eat what you give her?" Sebastian asked. She shook her head.

    "I don''t know. I don''t know when it started. But the more she refused the food, the angrier I got." She pressed her hand on her face to hide it.

    "Is it because of the sleeping pills?" I asked her, my voice barely above a whisper.

    She shuddered. "I don''t know what you are talking about," her voice was guttural.

    "Did you give her sleeping pills?" Sebastian asked.

    "No..." Grace said. But she knew it was futile. Anyone could check her prescriptions and know that she had consumed more than what was prescribed. "I... I told you... she scares me. So, I gave her pills to make her sleep."

    I pressed my lips together in disbelief.

    "Why are you scared of her?" Sebastian asked.

    "Ever since she was born... she has been different from other children. At first, I thought she was dumb but when she learned everything rapidly and spoke eloquently, I couldn''t understand why she was that way..."

    "What way?" Sebastian coaxed.

    "She... her eyes are empty, you know? And she doesn''t read people well. She talks about death and destruction so easily. I was scared. And she hates me, she does!" she sobbed. "I just wanted to punish her so that she would get better, you know?" And that she hates her daughter for ruining the fun in her life.

    "What else did you do to punish her, Grace?" Sebastian asked.

    "I... she walked in on me with one of my clients one day and she just watched us. I was so creeped out that I wanted her to leave but the client... he insisted she watches. The guy kepting back and beating her up and I just couldn''t stop him."

    She sang like a bird. She said every little thing every person had done to the child. How she had gone a little crazy when the clients wanted to see her daughter more than her. And then she spoke about how Carol had been curious about everything...

    "She''s a monster," she choked out. I scribbled into the notepad, feeling sorry for Carol. This woman was her age and already had a daughter as big as Carol. She was overwhelmed and she hadn''t grown out of her high school personality. She had taken up sex work because she enjoyed sex and thought it was the easiest way to make money. And her services ranged from different kinks to bondage and domination.

    "We will need you to write down the names of all your clients," I demanded. "If they engaged in sexual activity in front of a minor, they havemitted crimes." My goal was to reach the man in the white shirt. This was the easiest way.

    "I can''t do that! That is against my professional ethics. I may sell my body, but I don''t sell information." Sebastian put his hand on my knee to reassure me.

 Chapter 118: Falling Back on Fears

    Chapter 118: Falling Back on Fears

    "It seems that you didn''t process when the officers told you that you were being brought in to be interrogated. Did they tell you why you were being interrogated?" he asked.

    "Yes, they said it was child abuse," she was panicking.

    "And?" Sebastian asked.

    "A multiple murder case?" she didn''t sound so sure anymore.

    "Yes, people have been murdered in your neighborhood. Two boys around the age of five have been killed." Sebastian onlyid out the facts.

    "And you think I killed them?" she yelled.

    "No." He said with finality. "Carol did. She confessed," Sebastian said. Grace sank into the chair, a mixture of relief and confusion on her face.

    "Are you d that you aren''t being used of murder?" I asked, my voice so calm that it must have been frightening. Grace looked up, jolted.

    "What?" she said.

    "You starved and traumatized a child so that they thought that she needed to pretend to be a normal girl. When that didn''t help, she thought that the only way she could feel human was by killing people." I felt Sebastian''s hand on my knee. I didn''t pay it mind. "Your daughter would have been a lot better if you had shown a shred of love for her. If she didn''t have to worry about the sleeping pills you put in her milk, or that you wanted to kill her so you could have your happy ending." I looked her straight in the eye.

    "I didn''t want to kill her!" she yelled. "I just..."

    "You did, didn''t you? Kill the monster before it kills you?" I smirked. I was ramping up the pressure, not for the sake of the investigation for the benefit of a little girl who had been swayed into killing others.

    "I did ramp up the medication, I didn''t want to kill her... just lull her into longer sleep." Longer sleep, what a nice way to put it.

    "How long?" Sebastian asked, his eyes flitting between me and Grace, hoping I would stop talking.

    "As long as I could," she admitted and then stopped. Her eyes were panicked. "I''m sorry."

    "You shouldn''t be apologizing to us. You should apologize to the child you brought into the world and abandoned. You don''t owe us anything. But to Carol? You owe the world. You should be very sorry." Sebastian''s shoulder slumped.

    "I will apologize to her if it makes it any better!" she said immediately.

    No trace of guilt. Nothing. I almost wished we had shown her the pictures. For this woman did not have a shred of humanity in her.

    "Sure, we will bring her in." Sebastian grabbed my hand and pulled me out with him. Once the door was closed behind us, he turned to face me with a distressed expression. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

    "I was pissed off," I shrugged.

    "Did Carol get into your head?" he asked. "It''s not like you to be so involved in a case emotionally. I understand that a child was harmed but you can''t let your emotions get mixed into it." I scoffed.

    "When a child is involved, you have to let your emotions in, Sebastian. This woman led her daughter to believe that she was so different from other children that she needed to do something drastic to feel human. She pushed this girl into seeing things that no young person is meant to. She allowed a psychopath in her house and let that man teach her daughter how to kill. Children were killed and if it hadn''t been for our fast-thinking, more children would have been killed."

    "I understand, but you treated her like..." he trailed off.

    "It got the work done, didn''t it? I ramped up the pressure and I made her confess to drugging and almost killing her daughter. Now, if we make her feel guilty enough for treating her daughter that way, we will have a list of clients she has seen in the past and get the man who has been prancing around town trying to make himself known to you." I raised a brow at him.

    "So, this is not about Carol fully. It is about your fear of someone following me around," he imed. How did hee to that conclusion?

    "I don''t know what you are talking about." I gritted my teeth.

    "Are you falling back on your fears? Where is my fearless Evie who is trying her best to ovee the thinking that anyone close to her will get hurt?" His hand inched towards my face and I found myself paralyzed in front of him. He cradled my chin and looked deeply into my eyes.

    "When my fears are proven wrong, they are not irrational or biased any longer. This is not about magical thinking. This is about you being stalked. Someone is after you and waiting for your attention. This is a man who is influencing others to kill and he is enjoying this godplex. He is dangerous!"

    He smiled. "Oh, you do like me," he said. I frowned.

    "Is that... an observation?" I asked.

    "No. Not that..." he chuckled. "We''re this close to getting the man. He''s nothing but a scavenger, easy to catch seeing how he let himself be known." I bit my lip.

    "It is the fact that he let himself known that bothers me. Carol didn''t pause before talking about this man in the white shirt. She gave me all the information she knew without a hint of deception. If she was told to withhold the information, she wouldn''t even have mentioned him. I suspect he told her to tell us about him. He is letting himself be known."

    Sebastian thought about it for a moment. "So, you are telling me that he is dering that the game has just begun?" I nodded. That was exactly what I thought. "And he is boastful. No one who is this confident gets away with crime, Evie. We have solid leads on him and once we get his name, we can have a full investigation into him and catch him for the smallest things."

    I shook my head. "He doesn''tmit crimes, Sebastian. He inspires people to do it. He enjoys being the puppeteer. You know this very well. We can''t catch him for anything."

    "But we can inform the intelligence agencies to be aware that he is doing something of this sort. Baiting and abetting a crime is severe."

    I shrugged. "Do you think I am wrong then? In instigating her and scaring her to give us information?" I demanded.

    "A little. I just hope this is not seen as coercion in court. I''ll talk to Nash about it. For now, let''s talk to Carol and see if she wants to speak to her mother." He sighed.

    "The woman looked at you strangely, too," I mentioned. He paused in his step and looked at me incredulously.

    "Did I just hear Evie Marie Lewis being jealous?" I rolled my eyes at his exmation.

    "Dream on!" I snickered.

    "Very well. A man can hope." I saw him grin and shook my head in amusement. So easily satisfied, this man.

    We went into the room where they were holding Carol. Hearing our footsteps, the girl looked up. "Evie, you are back," she smiled. It was indeed fake, but the hint of excitement in her eyes made me aware that she was pleased with my arrival. "And who is this with you?" she looked over to Sebastian.

    "He''s my colleague," she introduced.

    "You''re very handsome. Much more handsome than the men my mother brings home," she said with a light giggle.

    "Why thank you. Even more handsome than the man in the white shirt?" Sebastian asked casually. Smooth talking, man.

    "Him?" she scrunched her nose. "He looked..." she thought about it carefully. "I can''t really remember how he looked. It''s strange."

    "Then I am definitely more handsome than him," Sebastian joked.

    "I suppose," Carol said lightly. "But your eyes..." her head tilted to the side. "I thought he was talking about Evie, but it could be you, too." She pped her hand.

    "What?" Sebastian asked, acting dumb.

    "He said that you would understand me. Do you understand me?" she asked. So, this was another one of her needs: to talk to people who understood her. Who didn''t see her as a monster.

    "Perfectly. I am very good at it," Sebastian admitted.

    "Then you are who he was referring to," Carol said with conviction. "Evie could kill people but she is too polite. She pretends really well, too. You don''t need to pretend, do you? You do as you please. I like that."

    Yes, he didn''t need to pretend.

    "Are you tired of pretending, too?" Sebastian asked, crouching down in front of her. Carol nodded. "Then, do you want to tell your mother the truth? She should know, shouldn''t she?" Sebastian''s face held no smile.

    "What about?" Carol asked, confused.

    "Anything you want to tell her." Sebastian shrugged.

    "Anything?" she squeaked.

    "Anything," both Sebastian and I reassured at the same time.

 Chapter 119: Anothers Happiness

    Chapter 119: Another''s Happiness

    We led her back into the room and she settled in my chair. I leaned against the wall and saw as Grace nced towards her daughter with fright more than worry.

    "Carol, you can tell her what you want," Sebastian assured.

    Carol remained silent for a few seconds before her bell-like voice rang in the room. "Mom, I was like this from the beginning. I understand why you wanted to kill me. It would have made your life easier. I am sorry for killing those kids... I didn''t know any other way." She paused. "Don''t me yourself, though. As I said, I was born with it." Though the words were heartfelt, the tone in which she said it was dead. She was not pretending to feel any emotions like she had done previously. She told it in a truthful manner.

    It wasmendable.

    Carol was taken out of the room soon after as Grace refused to reply. Once left alone, she cried profusely. We watched in the monitoring room as she broke down, her sobs loud. She grabbed at her hair, and it looked painful, as she cried.

    The guilt had worked and she was left a sobbing mess. We gave her an hour to feel itpletely before going back inside. It took her a few minutes to open up but then she produced the contact information of every client of hers, the dates they came, and the sexual acts they liked to perform. She was very organized, hence, it was easy for us to take everything from her without a shred of doubt.

    She did not remember a man in a white shirt who Carol was close to or had spoken fondly of. She thought carefully but coulde up with no one that would fit the bill. In the end, we were left with a long list to check on. And yes, it was a very long list.

    - - - - -

    We sat in the living room, looking through the names and contact information of the clients when Sebastian spoke up. "I heard that you tell people you are taken?"

    "Did Nash tell you?" I asked, not surprised. Nash and Sebastian had been as thick as thieves since we started doing more hours in the station.

    "He did. Are you sure you are giving yourself time, Evie? If you have changed your mind, just tell me now. I know that you want to talk about it, but you can''t. That is why you are telling other people you are taken. I don''t know if it is to repel me or give me a sign." He clenched his hands together. "That is why you manipted the situation to put us together, right?"

    "You think I am capable of maniption?" I asked as I raised my brow.

    Heughed and said. "Don''t say it like it is a bad thing. Your maniptive nature is something I love about you."

    I sighed. "I suppose I should tell you then. You know what my concerns are, right?"

    "That you are ''not right in the head''?" he thought furiously.

    I nodded. "You remember. It was difficult enough to say it the first time. I thought I would only marry or be in a rtionship for the deepest love."

    Sebastian nodded in understanding.

    "Sometimes... I wonder if I am even capable of it."

    Sebastian gasped in shock but got himself under control almost instantly. "Okay. I don''t understand. Walk me through it."

    "Among every person I know, male or female, I am the only one who has never even once be carried away with infatuation. Every single person I know has felt this longing for someone, but I have not. I sailed through my formative years without a twitch of infatuation."

    Sebastian looked confused for a moment. "So you mean..."

    "I''ll say it inly. I esteem you. I respect you. I like you. I prefer yourpany to others. But... My eyes burned with heat and I didn''t bother to brush it away. "I don''t know if I can love you. I just do not know if it is in me. You see, I am not right in the head."

    Sebastian inched forward and grabbed my hand with one of his while the other pushed my chin up to look at him. "Let me be clear, Evie. The only thing wrong with that pretty head of yours is that it holds a face that I cannot look away from. I love that head and all it contents with enough force for both of us."

    I startled at the strength of the statement and eventually smiled nervously. I had no idea what to say, though.

    "But I will deprive you of..." I didn''t know the exact word.

    "Let us be analytical about it, shall we?" he asked.

    I giggled, thinking I would have to be careful around him as he seemed to use his analysis and studies to make the argument go his own way. Yet, I nodded.

    "I know you would like to make a scale and I would do the same on any other asion, but for this one, I will not do that. I will simply ask you this. Estimate, on whatever terms you like, your affection or infatuation or whatever you wish to call it, over your lifetime. Pick the apogee... you know what that is, right?" he asked suddenly, cutting himself off.

    Iughed openly since I couldn''t imagine he thought I wouldn''t know. It was the apex or highest point of a curve. I nodded, happy that he was using humor to make her less self-conscious.

    "So, when was the point in your life when you were closest to what you think a woman in love would feel for the man she loves? At what point was your infatuation at its highest level. You need not define the delta between that feeling and the goal, just tell me a point in time."

    I frowned. "This isn''t fair."

    "I agree. But life rarely is. So, continue."

    I groaned. "I suppose I must answer. The point is easy enough to find. It was a dozen words out of your mouth which can be loosely paraphrased that you love me... and will do so for a very long time."

    Relentlessly, he continued. "All right. Let us put that feeling aside for a moment. Since, by your admission, I am as close as you have ever gotten to that feeling, I assume that you could easily estimate your feelings of adoration, respect, and etcetera at that moment in time."

    I looked at him suspiciously. "I suppose?"

    "Have any of that changed since then?"

    I thought carefully and said, "To be honest, all of them have improved since then. My feelings for you have improved considerably."

    Carefully, he continued. "Suppose we made a chart, with a line denoting the minimum level of each of those attributes that a couple should have to ensure a happy life, would you say that I meet the mark on all the other except your love for me?"

    I wasn''t going to answer too quickly, I told myself. "Well, I should ask you the same question. But yes, a strong yes. You meet and greatly exceed the minimum point. In almost every way, we are a perfect match."

    He cupped my cheek. I felt the heat rise in them and my throat clenched. "To answer your question, you exceed every expectation on all axes. So, what are you afraid of? Let us get to the heart of the matter. What are you really afraid of?"

    It was difficult to think when his hand held my cheek so lovingly. I finally looked him in the eye and decided to be honest. "I am afraid I will hurt you. I am afraid that I will never love you the way a woman should love her boyfriend. Your love is so obvious, so intense... I am afraid that I will destroy the best part of you. I am afraid we will find ourselves miserable. And it would be toxic and corrosive. It would destroy you." And it would destroy me.

    "Why, what do we have here, Evie? I am sure there is a saying about this." He thought for a second, remembering. "Love is the condition where another''s happiness is more important than your own."

    My jaw dropped open in surprise for a moment. I had never thought about it in that way. Everything I had read about love talked about it from the point of view of the character''s feelings, not their concern for anyone else. It frankly felt somewhat selfish as it was usually described. Unselfish and consideration as part of love.

    "You are a master of seeing through people''s emotions, Evie. You do that for everyone you meet. You helped memunicate and understood me when no one was willing to. And therefore, I shall have to return the favor."

    I stared at him for a moment. "What do you want? What is it that you really want?"

 Chapter 120: Welcome Home

    Chapter 120: Wee Home

    Sebastian smiled. "Well, at the risk of sounding mad, I will say I want exactly what they write in the romance books. At the same time, I want the exact opposite."

    I threw my head back andughed. "Why would that sound mad? Most of my thought process ends up that way. Perhaps you should add some nuance to that assertion?"

    "When I first started liking you, I thought I knew both of us, and I wanted you. I wanted you to ept me, or rather, I wanted my idea of you to ept my idea of myself. Since that time, I have learned neither of us knew the other at all, and at the time, I didn''t even know myself. Now..."

    He seemed to run out of words. How odd for Sebastian. I had to say, I didn''t quite understand what he meant, though. I squeezed his hand encouragingly nheless.

    "What I mean to say is, those novels I tried to read to show my affection taught me that rarely do people think about the other person. We are holed up in our own perspective and make the world look as we wish to see it through our tinted sses. When I first started to feel my heart turn towards you, I wanted to keep you by my side and I was aggressive and obnoxious. I thought you would stay by me because you needed me and I was this grand figure. But in reality, once I got to know you a little better, and in turn myself, I felt the onught of emotions and changes I didn''t know possible." I waited for him to finish. "In conclusion, I wish for us to spend a lifetime learning about each other, growing, learning some more, and growing some more... so we can both die just a little less ignorant.

    I stared at him in shock. "Bravo!" I eximed. "I never thought you would think yourself ignorant. Or I, for that matter. Well, I can apud the idea of reducing the world''s ignorance. Since the two of us are quite likely to continue upsetting the total level of hubris in the wrong way, I suppose we mustpensate by reducing ignorance."

    Weughed louder than we had ever before. It seemed that we, the newly formed couple were just right. We sat there, staring at one another for a moment.

    I finally said. "Just this once, Sebastian, I suppose we should speak our hearts and minds inly, and in English."

    He rolled his eyes. "I suppose it would be a useful experiment just to see what happens." And then he paused. "Were we not speaking in English all these months?" he teased.

    "Not in theyman''s sense. We''ve been entangled in our intellectual superiority and forgotten that simple words can make so much more sense." Distressing over the right words and the right actions... It could get tiring. So, why not live like a normal human for a few moments? Just for rity, that is.

    "I can say without fear of error or contradiction that I like you. I respect you. I wish to spend my time in yourpany. I wish to have you..." and I stopped in admiration. I had never imagined I would say such words. "as a father of any future children I may mother. And based on your definition, I almost certainly love you. I also..."

    He squeezed my hand and I continued.

    "I also suspect that, based on what I have read... from those books, a kiss or two might resolve the ambiguity of whether I feel for you the way a woman in love should." I smiled sheepishly and moved my head as closely as I could judge. exactly forty percent of the distance that was presently separating him from me.

    He smiled. "I have no qualms saying I love you with all my heart and wisdom, and I am confident that you will love me with the same intensity in time. While it is too quick and you caught me by surprise, it would be my honor to be the father of your children and I wish to spend the rest of my life showing you that."

    He moved his head close, the distance between us closing up until we were nearly touching. We looked at each other for a moment and then by mutual agreement, closed the final few inches until our lips were gently touching.

    I had no idea what to expect. I had been taken by curiosity up until this moment and never really thought about what it would be like to kiss a man whom you acknowledged to like with all your being. Others had hinted at everything from a bit of revulsion at the close contact to lightning falling from the sky to strike my head. The reality was neither of these. I was not in the least bit appalled by the touch. But the lightning strike from our passionate kisses earlier was not there, as well. It was awkward at first but after a moment or two of fumbling around, I found the experience to be much closer to the lightning than I had previously anticipated.

    At one moment, I thought that my heart might beat out of my chest, and in the next moment, I thought I might close my eyes and take a nap in perfect contentment.

    We were inseparable for some minutes, reveling in the contact, and trying toe to a ce where the absolute pleasure was all that was left, with the fear and awkwardness at least partially behind us. We eventually achieved that and sometime after, Sebastian picked me up and set me down on hisp so that I could wrap my arms around his shoulder.

    At longst, we released the kiss and I moved my arms down from the top of his shoulders to tuck them against her chest so she could snuggle in. I had to admit, this feeling offort was something I had not expected. Novels talked of strong raging emotions, both good and bad, euphoria, excitement, and impatience. Never once had I read about one talking aboutfort and rightness.

    "It feels like I am sitting at home, near a fire in the mostfortable spot with a good book on myp," she confessed.

    Sebastian chuckled. "Well... it is your apartment." I red at him. "Wee home, my love. Wee home."

    I cradled his cheek and pressed a kiss on his lips. "Wee home, Sebastian."

    - - -

    "Did you find anything?" Sebastian asked. He was going through his pile of profiles and looked like he had a splitting headache.

    "Nothing," I said softly. "I looked through all the contact information and even checked for their social media profiles with the information I got, none of them seem to fit the bill." I scrubbed my face.

    "I love how this psychotic bastard is ruining our night." Sebastian groaned. "I already ordered food, so it shoulde in a short while. How are you finding the social media ounts, though?" he asked, peering at myptop.

    I turned the screen towards him. "This is Grace''s social media ount. She posts photographs of her ''parties'' and food. She often tags the men in the posts because most of her clients are return customers."

    Sebastian looked at everything critically.

    "I am very sure that this guy wouldn''t let Grace take pictures of him but go ahead and look through thements as well to see anyone who recurs inmenting." He thought about it for a moment. "The man should be charismatic and look rather warm and naturally disposed to help people but he blends in really well."

    "An unassuming face, you mean?" I asked. Sebastian nodded.

    "He might not very handsome, but he has an inherent charm that is only felt when he converses with you." I closed my eye. My head was starting to hurt as well.

    "I have a feeling that we will not find him," I admitted.

    Sebastian nodded. "I think I underestimated this guy a little. He let out the secret of his presence so easily that I thought he was slightly easier to catch, but it is indeed a deration."

    "He is signaling that the game is beginning." I didn''t want to know what game it was going to be. "I''ll look through everything once again." I had to find him.

    In the past month and a half, Sebastian had solved more cold cases than was expected. Multiple murders, trafficking rings, and whatnot.

    "If this man is keeping a close watch on us," I began. "And he knows criminal procedure or has researched on it, what should be our approach to find him?" We couldn''t sit around and wait for him to finally kill someone, right?

    "I can''t tell you to be careful of everyone you are around. I don''t want you to fall back into that dark hole. The apartment is a safe space because the security wouldn''t allow anyone inside without explicit word from either of us." I nodded.

    "What about the station?" I asked. "Do you think it is someone from there?" Sebastian shook his head.

    "It is not someone who actively takes part in cases. He likes to watch from a distance and leads a life of leisure. I can imagine that he doesn''t hold a corporate job that demands he work fixed hours and he probably makes a good amount of money from what he does."

    "You''re painting the picture of a typical psychopath," I groaned. "They are roaming around in the room in the hundreds."

    Sebastian snorted. His warm hand patted my head as he calmed me down. "We have time. Don''t fret."

 Chapter 121: Mommy Fell Asleep

    Chapter 121: Mommy Fell Asleep

    Another week passed. The Magician case was getting its first trial in a few days and I had not been called on to testify. Instead, Nash was.

    "They will ask you terrible questions that you shouldn''t have to answer, Evie. I am not going to make you go through that, do you understand me?" he asked, patting her shoulder.

    "What could they probably ask?" I retorted. I was not displeased in the least for not being called on, but I was curious about what they could ask.

    "They will ask about your father and yourck of initiative in escaping," I remembered the conversation I had with the students in Sebastian''s ss and frowned. "They will talk about how you had to choose between your own life and others and discredit your authority as an interrogator. I can''t let that happen," he said softly.

    "Will myck of license be a problem?" I asked, my brows scrunched in confusion. Nash shook his head.

    "No, you applied for it long ago and as Sebastian''s assistant, you would be legally allowed to sit in. You just have to produce your contract with Sebastian for it to be valid."

    I shook my head. "I can''t imagine why the defense would want to question me about a past where I was clearly the victim."

    "Law is a twisted thing," Nash made a disgusted face. "Lawyers twist it so beautifully that the judges let criminals go on a small wording made by the prosecution."

    I shook my head. "Like?"

    "Well, I can''t give you an example, but thewyer who was hired used to be a public defender before he quit and started his independentw firm. Very famous in the circles and never loses any cases."

    "What kind of mystical being is he?"

    "Completely wretched. He will do just about anything for profit, if you ask me." He shook his head. "I used to like him a few years ago when he started out, but the past two years, he has been a headache to work with. He keepsing by the police station and demanding information. And lord knows how he gets people to talk to him and be influenced by him."

    My eyes shot open. "And how did you say he got the Magician cases information?" I asked. Nash shrugged.

    "The family told us that they had hired him. Apparently, he approached them."

    "I will need to meet him but do you think he is involved with the aplice in any way?" I asked.

    "Don''t go about specting such things!" Nash whispered. "He is very popr at the station and if he hears your spection, he will burst out into mes and charge you. The man sues for a living and he sure has fun doing it."

    "He has sued people before?" Nash shook his head.

    "Not for himself. But after he wins cases, he sues the government back. The judges are scared of him at this point." Nash sighed.

    "You sound scared of him too!" I was surprised.

    "He makes my skin crawl, honestly," Nash said in a low voice. He looked around to see if anyone was there.

    "And you never used your gut you investigate what he is up to? Sounds like he is giving you serial killer vibes," I joked. How I wished that wasn''t the case. "So, will I get to see him during the trial?" I asked as I sipped on my steaming hot tea.

    Nash nodded. "You sure will. The guy has presence in the courtroom. You can''t look away from him." Charming, too.

    "Guess I will be attending to cheer you on. I will depend on you to put that sick bastard behind the bars!" I waved.

    - - - -

    Two dayster, I met the man in question.

    They had received an emergency call and rushed over to the location because they were close by. When Nash and I entered the house, there was dead silence. We searched through the room, following behind the armed police officers.

    Finally, in the bedroom, we found a woman lying on the bed with a stab in her chest. She wasying sideways but you could see the blood profusely seeping out of her wound.

    I rushed forward and checked her. She was barely breathing.

    "She is breathing!" I called. "Where is the ambnce!" I shouted.

    "On its way," Nash called. He was crouching down beside a young boy who was curled up in the corner. He looked like he was in shock and shivering profusely. I pressed my finger to her wrist and realized that her heartbeat was barely there. Her breathing had stopped as well.

    I panicked but still called one of the cops over. "Do you have the emergency services on call?" I asked.

    "Yes, Miss Lewis," he replied. I took the phone from him and pressed it to my ear. "Hello. The victim has a stab wound to her chest and seems to be bleeding profusely. Her heart is about to stop beating and her breathing has stopped as well. What should I do?" I tried to remain as calm as possible.

    The static voice came from the other side.

    "How is the bleeding?" the person asked.

    "A lot," I replied. "They are on their side, so the blood is not pooling inside the body and resulting in internal bleeding and shock for now." There was silence.

    "Put them down on the bed. Do you know how to perform CPR?" they asked.

    My mind went nk. "Yes!" I said finally. "I was trained."

    "Okay. Move the victim to the ground." I beckoned the cop over and asked him to help me. With some effort, the woman was on the ground. "You got them down?" the person asked.

    "Yes."

    "You have to turn on their back and start CPR immediately." I checked the bleeding.

    "The bleeding?" I asked.

    "Has it reduced?" the person on the other side asked. I nodded before realizing that they couldn''t see me.

    "Yes, it was reduced a lot, but I think the heart not working properly is at hand."

    "Continue CPR, we will arrive in two minutes." And so I did.

    I continued CPR and because there was nothing to intubate the woman with, I had to do it manually. I was no doctor, but I was good at what I did. There was rushing and shuffling of feet and finally, the medic arrived. I was pushed aside and they started their expert hands worked on the woman.

    Twenty minutes of tryingter, nothing happened. The woman was transported to the nearest hospital but pronounced dead.

    I was following behind with Nash driving. The little boy was snuggled under my arm, not understanding what was happening. When we arrived at the hospital, we were given the news. I scrubbed my face and held onto the boy''s hand.

    "Is my mother okay?" he asked in a small voice. I didn''t know how to answer. I looked at Nash, pleading for him to help. Nash dropped to his knees beside the boy.

    "Do you live with your mother?" he asked. The boy nodded. "What is your name?" He refused to answer. "Do you have any other adults who cane?"

    "Daddy," he murmured softly.

    "Oh, can you give us his number?" Nash asked. The boy shook his head. "Why?" he implored.

    "Because Daddy made Mommy fall asleep." Nash controlled his expression and looked up at me. I knew what to do.

    "Okay, honey. Come with me, okay? Give us your father''s information and we will find him."

    "I don''t want to meet him!" he yelled. People turned around to look. I patted his back.

    "You don''t have to meet him. We need to call him because he made your mother fall asleep, okay?" The child had no idea what death was. So different from Carol.

    He gave his father''s name and phone number. I was startled when I read it.

    "What is it?" Nash asked, perplexed.

    "It''s Rodney McCain," I whispered. Nash looked confused. "The singer," I added.

    Nash hung his head. "Call reinforcement. The man divorced his wife on bad terms. He cheated and beat his wife, too. When the media finds out, it is going to be bad. The shit is going to hit the fan."

    I groaned. One high-profile case after another.

    "And guess who hiswyer is?" Nash lifted his brow.

    "Who?" I asked, oddly suspicious.

    "Matthew Collins," he breathed. "The creepywyer I told you about."

    My smile dropped. "Famous singer. Creepywyer. It seems we have to fight to get a confession or conviction, don''t we?"

    Nash shrugged. "Forget about going home for the next week, Evie. And kiss Sebastian goodbye. You won''t be seeing him for long."

    "You have got to be kidding me," I breathed when we got out of the hospital with the child in tow. The cameras shed. I tucked the kid behind me, stopping the cameras from catching a glimpse of him. Nash strode forward and yelled.

    "Please make way!" They crowded around him like the locust. I saw a narrow road of escape and took it. I felt bad for Nash, but protecting the kid from wild questions was the priority. Damnit.

    How did theye here so fast?

 Chapter 122: Bold Accusation

    Chapter 122: Bold usation

    "Aren''t we going to wait for the uncle?" the kid said, pointing towards Nash, who was still surrounded in the distance.

    "Yes, of course," I supplied helpfully. "He''ll be here shortly," I reassured him. "In the meantime, do you want to have something to eat?" I asked.

    The child shook his head. But a thoughtful expression crossed his face upon coaxing. "Can I get some ice cream?" he asked.

    I stifled myugh and nodded. "You can have ice cream if you eat something heavier first," I told him. The first thing to do to ovee shock was to readjust the body to normal function. Food was the easiest way to nudge it back into the track.

    At first, the kid would either be high on energy or lethargic. Thereafter, he would not realize when he was hungry or in need to go to the bathroom. Therefore, to kickstart his system, we would need to feed him on time and make sure he goes to the toilet at practical intervals.

    How did I know this? I had faced it firsthand. And I had been learning these things to help victims and eyewitnesses befortable. The cause for it was first my own experience and second were to get information about the crime without the haze of shock and fear contaminating it.

    "Like what?" the child asked, pulling me out of my train of thought. I thought about it for a minute.

    "What do you think about having a nice sandwich and some chicken nuggets?" I supplied helpfully. The child hummed and went back to his own thoughts in no time. I could see in his expression that the thoughts that came to him were not troubling.

    Nash slid into the car in a few minutes, looking exhausted.

    "What did they ask?" I enquired.

    Nash shook his head. "I''ll tell you a littleter." We drove in silence and reached the station in no time. We had deposited the kid in the waiting room with an officer to guard him.

    "We''ll be right back, okay?" I said before I disappeared through the door."Now, tell me."

    "They were asking questions about the victim," he said ndly. "I didn''tment but tried my best to get some information out of them. Seems like someone tipped them off and it wasn''t one of those public rtions teams celebrities seem to have."

    I scratched my head in frustration. "Do you think they were trying to buy time?" I asked bluntly.

    "Could be. Or use the media to interfere with the investigation." His eyes sank. "The house has been sealed off and thewyer has been prohibited from entering," hemented.

    "What? Does he have a bad habit of trespassing on crime scenes?" I asked, horrified.

    "Yeah, he brought crime scene pictures that were not from our reserve once. It was a kidnapping case and he fought tooth and nail to prove that it was the manservant employed in the house who had done everything and that his client wasn''t involved." Nash closed his eyes in frustration.

    "And what was the verdict?" He shrugged. "The suspect got acquitted?" Iughed.

    "Then he represented the manservant and got him acquitted due tock of evidence." He looked gobsmacked still. I could imagine.

    "And he didn''t take the second case because of money, I presume?" I asked with a chuckle.

    "Not at all. It was fun for him to y the game, so he did it. Wretched man. I hate him." He looked like he was about to let out a frustrated scream.

    Finally, the kid''s food had arrived and I heated a te before going to his room. Someone was already in there. A man in histe twenties or early thirties stood on the other side of the door, cooing and talking to the child.

    "May I help you?" I asked firmly as I entered. I clutched the te in my hand when he turned to me.

    "Oh, hello there." The man smiled. I stared at his expression for a bit and saw unrestrained warmth and a genuine smile. But there was something off about him. He just gave off an evil vibe. "My name is Collins," he said, pulling out a box from his pocket and giving me his business card.

    I ced the te down in front of the kid. "Start eating this. I''ll talk to this man, okay?" With that, I turned to thewyer.

    "Ah, yes, Mr. Collins. I have heard a great deal about you," I politely said. I took the business card extended towards me and looked at the design carefully. It was his firm so the design must have been made under his strict supervision. The card was just as I perceived him. The ck metallic sheen, the raised lettering that prompted a sharp and ruthless approach to cases was evident through it.

    The design could reveal a lot about a person.

    "Nothing bad, I hope?" he asked mischievously.

    "Of course not. I heard about your excellent track record and techniques at court. It is a pleasure to meet you." I was reluctant, but I shook his hands to go along with my words. "Might I ask what brings you here, though?"

    I stared at him with no overt emotion and he looked rather impressed.

    "Oh, you must be new here," he chuckled. "I''m pretty infamous around these circles for representing celebrities and bigshots."

    I kept my expression neutral. "I''m not sure I understand why that would bring you here," Imented. "Also, you can''t be in here."

    "Why so?" he asked with keen interest.

    "The child is a little shaken and we are trying to make himfortable. Meeting strangers more than he is already being made to suffer wouldn''t be good." His lips turned up into a grin.

    "Oh, but I am no stranger, now am I?" He stared at the boy who squirmed visibly.

    I ced myself between them so that the kid couldn''t see thiswyer any longer. "Sorry, it''s protocol. I will ask you to leave." I could see that he was about to protest so I raised a finger. "I don''t care whosewyer you are right now. You need to leave this room."

    He stared at my resolute face and then nodded.

    I followed him out and noticed when he paused mid-stride and swiveled back. "I have never seen you before."

    I held in my sigh. "I am sure you have. You are thewyer defending the perpetrator of the Magician cases," I pointed out. He threw his head back inughter.

    "So, you do know who I am."

    "I recognized you from your business card. Nothing else." I sighed. "The child won''t need awyer and we have called his maternal grandmother to apany him as the next of kin," Imented. "So, I don''t know why you are here."

    "Well, his next of kin should be his father," Collins pointed out.

    "No. I already know about the court settlement. Your client, Mr. McCain is not allowed to see the child. Therefore, I will not let you pretend that you are here to represent this kid or take him to his father."

    "A woman of principle, huh? I really like that." What a sleaze bag.

    "If you are done with yourmentary, might I ask why you are here?" Thewyer shrugged.

    "Of course, I am here to talk to the child and to the officers who arrived at the scene first." He smirked.

    "Why?"

    "Well, my client is sitting outside, waiting to meet his son andfort him." He shrugged.

    Of course. "Mr. McCain was called in for questioning about his whereabouts. I don''t enjoy pointless chatter with people, Mr. Collins," I warned him. "You will not be allowed inside that room. If I find you there or even get wind that you tried, I will make sure you are thrown out of the station, do you understand?"

    His eyes widened in surprise. "A gusty little thing, aren''t you? Who gave you the right to throw out awyer from the station? Are you that powerful?"

    I smiled at him politely but with a warning. "No, but when awyer tries to coerce the victim or their family in any way, it is my job to protect them. And right now, I am suspecting you of being maniptive." He became silent.

    "That is a bold usation to make," he said quietly.

    "Yes. You already have some big casesing up, so I would tread carefully, Mr. Collins. Aint to the bar association willnd you in a few days of suspension until the jury is called and a hearing is held. Will you be alright with that?" He gritted his teeth as he looked at me.

    "Please wait with your client. The investigators wille out shortly and speak to him." I turned around and made my way back to the room where the kid was.

    I let myself inside the room and stopped in front of the police officer.

    "Why did you let an unauthorized person inside?" I asked firmly. The officer stiffened and I could see the panic in his eyes. "I asked you a question."

    "Ma''am, he is an old-timer around these parts. He doesn''t listen anyway." The excuse was pathetic.

    "Please inform Detective Nash about this incident. I will let you give your excuses to him because I will do you no favors." I stopped. "You look sensible. You must know how detrimental it is for a child to meet someone like that. If you are scared of awyer, remember that there arews to protect you and punish him for doing whatever he likes."

 Chapter 123: Restraining Order

    Chapter 123: Restraining Order

    "Miss Lewis," the officer bowed, ashamed.

    "Just don''t do it again, okay?" I said.

    I went into Nash''s office and found him holding up something. "What is that?" I asked curiously.

    "Crime scene pictures," he said with a smirk. I took it from him and realized that it was footprints, muddy footprints.

    I looked at the prints and had tough. "Limited edition shoes, huh? Weren''t these selling for a hundred thousand dors a while back? Pre-order and limited edition too."

    Nash looked impressed. "You know your shoes, don''t you?"

    I shrugged. "I watch a lot of random content on the inte. Especially what rich people are buying and showing off." I tapped on the picture. "We have a shoe size and by contacting the brand, we will get a list of people who bought the shoes and in what size."

    Nash nodded. "You are not interested in this pointing towards the murderer but proving that theymitted a crime, aren''t you?"

    "I met Collins. I understand what you mean. There is something unsettling about him and he likes to y with people." I paused and had to tell him. "He was trying to talk to the child. I suspect he wanted to know what we already knew and see if he could scare the child into changing his story."

    "The bastard is capable of that and more." He pushed the pictures into the file and handed it to me. "He pissed you off, so do you want to question his client and take out your anger?" he asked.

    I looked at him incredulously. "Surely you aren''t telling me to go harder on McCain because of who hiswyer is, right?"

    Nash chuckled. "Of course I am. The scumbag needs to be put in his ce."

    "Understood." I took the file and read it carefully.

    Muddy footprints found. ording to the chart, the shoes were a Size 12. It hadn''t rained that day, so the perpetrator hadn''t entered through the front door. There was a garden behind the house through which they entered.

    I turned to the picture of the little garden and noticed the sprinklers. I put that information at the back of my mind.

    Skin residue under the victim''s fingers was found, which showed that she tried to struggle. The kid had said that his father put the mother to sleep. If he saw his father stabbing his mother, he wouldn''t say that. I tried to remember if there were any strangtion marks and made note of the redness of her throat. So, I could theorize that he had strangled her unconscious and then stabbed her in a location that would make her bleed out.

    Then we had the absence of the murder weapon and the perpetrator. This proved that it was a deliberate attempt to murder and evade thew. The distress call hade from a passerby who heard somemotion, so I had to keep that in mind.

    I turned to Nash. "Do we have an ID on who made the call?" I asked. Nash looked up confused. "The person who called, can I hear the call? I find it strange that someone called and tipped the police but we didn''t see them on the scene when we arrived. Moreover, the media was there so early."

    "You suspect Collins or manipting the situation to his favor, don''t you?" I nodded.

    "They called early enough that the victim wasn''t dead but not earlier when the scuffle was still happening. Don''t you find it strange?" I looked at him pointedly. "And the media arrived at the hospital too early. We didn''t even know who we were dealing with at that point. They shouldn''t have found out the victim or the hospital in any case."

    "Inside information from someone close to the police force and foreknowledge of the crime."

    "Surely we can pin something on this guy. We could have saved the victim if he had a little conscience," I huffed.

    "Well, he is a cold-bloodedwyer. He only cares about his clients and winning the game." Nash''s words made sense.

    "Okay, I will start by taking a footprint, measurement, and DNA samples from McCain. I suspect they will make some fuss about it, but I don''t think they know the evidence we found, so I should be able to persuade them." I squinted. "I need to get an alibi. Could you follow up with the officers still at the scene and ask them to get the CCTV footage from the house?"

    Nash shook his head. "I don''t think there would be footage from the victim''s home but if we can ce McCain in the locality... I trailed off." He stood up. "I''ll go myself, actually. I have a feeling this will be difficult. Keep your cellphone switched on while you interview him and be careful of Collins. He''ll try to manipte you."

    I nodded. "You know me. I don''t let people step over me."

    "And I am proud of you for it," Nash stated. He patted me on the shoulder.

    I exited the office with my mind full of questions I would be asking. I found an elderly couple, crying and waiting outside the child''s room, asking to be let in. The officer looked at me hesitantly and nodded.

    "Thank you," I said before turning to the elderly couple. "Are you the victim''s parents?" I asked.

    They nodded. They pulled out their identity cards immediately and showed me. I looked at them curiously but checked the identity card anyway. "Maya is our daughter."

    I nodded. "Why did you hand your ID to me immediately?" It was a little suspicious, but the genuine grief on their face told me that they were indeed the parents.

    "Last time we came to the police station to apany the Maya and our grandson, that darnedwyer made everyone question if we were legally family."

    A sob ripped through the mother and I tightened my jaw in response. God, Collins was a really hateable man.

    "It is not the case for now," I assured. "We have already taken a statement from your grandson and fed him. He is sitting inside. He doesn''t quite understand what is happening, so it would be great if you could apany him."

    "We can''t talk to him about what happened, can we?" they asked timidly. "Something about contaminating the story..."

    "I can''t stop you from talking about it. But I think he needs to slowly understand what happened. It will be too big a shock if he suddenly understands." The couple nodded.

    "That man beat my daughter in front of the child, so he thinks it is normal. It took us months to convince the child that hitting people was wrong and that his dad shouldn''t have done it. Actually, Maya filed for a restraining order because he would barge into her house at all hours..."

    They trailed off.

    "Thank you for letting me know. Can you give me the case number and thewyer who was filing it? It would help me immensely."

    They forwarded all the information to me and the dy was only a few more minutes until I was in front of the interrogation room. I sucked in a deep breath and entered the room. I had a friendly smile on my face as I usually did, especially in the face of a perpetrator who was used to being ttered by others.

    Therefore, to approach him as a harmless female who was easy to talk to was the way to go. I could forget about thewyer for right now. A celebrity who beat his ex-wife indiscriminately and wasn''t afraid of the public sentiment surely wouldn''t mind saying a few extra things. The key was for thewyer to be a bitte in stopping him from spewing information.

    I beckoned an officer behind me toe in and sit in the corner for a while. He would be the one to take the prints and DNA and take it to theb as soon as possible.

    "Mr. McCain, how do you do this evening?" I asked casually as I took the seat from across him and Collins. Collins eyed me curiously but didn''t say anything.

    "I''m doing okay," he replied. His eyes shed with interest as I sat down and crossed my legs. "I didn''t catch your name," he said with interest.

    "Evie Marie Lewis. Nice to make your acquaintance," I said shortly. "I hope you wouldn''t mind providing a DNA sample and footprints for us. We have already taken it from your ex-wife''s family." I assured him.

    "Am I being suspected?" he asked, wringing his hands together. I curiously looked at Collins.

    "If you hadn''t brought awyer, I would have been less suspicious of you. But no, this is standard procedure. Forensics will wipe the house down for all kinds of prints and as you are someone who has ess to the house, we need your prints to be sure it doesn''t coincide with any foreign prints."

    McCain looked at Collins for approval. Collins was hesitant for a moment before nodding.

    What a fool. So much for being an excellentwyer. He didn''t even know that we had found footprints. I called the officer over and asked him to take the prints and DNA.

    He did so without question and left quickly. I had already texted Nash and theb to fastrack the results. "Thank you so much for cooperating," I smiled. I could see that Collins was more at leisure with me because I had changed my attitude. He thought I would be going easy on his client.

    Yes, the police force usually didn''t mince words, but I had learned from the best. I wasn''t afraid to pull out every technique in the book to get a confession and all the information needed to solve the case.

 Chapter 124: Treat Him Poorly

    Chapter 124: Treat Him Poorly

    I read him his rights and surreptitiously nced towards Collins. The stare-off ended soon enough and I turned back to McCain.

    "Do you know why you have been called here?" I asked as I looked through the papers in front of me. There was nothing much written on it, but I had to act like we had a lot of incriminating information against him.

    "I heard my wife was dead, so I assume that by rtion, I am the first person that will be questioned if she died."

    Wife, not ex-wife. How fascinating. I didn''t correct him. I''d let him ramble on in this fantasy of his until I got concrete proof that he had been lying about whereabouts. Catch him in his lies.

    "You''re correct. You had ess to the house, therefore, we need to follow procedure and interview you." I paused and looked at him intently. "You''re free to consult yourwyer if you are ufortable or don''t want to answer a question. Do you understand?" I pressed.

    "I do. Let''s just get it over with." He acted like this was all a bother for him.

    I nodded enthusiastically. "What were you doing the day of the murder?" I asked smoothly, not letting my knowledge of his involvement show. He must have known his son was being protected by the police, so he would be scared the son said something.

    But I had to pretend like nothing was said and even if it was, we didn''t put much emphasis on the words of a child.

    "I was at homeposing music for my uing album," he smiled widely, not a hint of guilt in his eyes.

    "Youposed music all day?" I repeated. "You didn''t go out of the house to buy anything or met with anyone who can confirm where you were?" I asked.

    He shook his head. "I was in my music room all day long. Creative people get obsessed when they are inspired."

    I nodded but looked confused. "I''m sorry, you''re a very talented man. I can''t say that I understand your thought processes. I''m not in the same league as you," I joked with a smile.

    From the corner of my eyes, I saw Collins squint at me.

    "Oh, Detective. You must be one of the best around here if they let you interview me. I don''t doubt your intelligence," he praised in return.

    "Thank you for your praise." I paused and cleared my throat. "Back to the questions. Do you know of anyone who has ess to Maya''s house apart from her family and you?" I asked.

    He pretended to think about it for a minute. "I think she was talking to a guy in the past month or so. She told me something of that sort thest time we met. He probably has ess to the house, as well," he said promptly. He nodded sagely to reaffirm his words.

    "Do you know his name or what he does that can help us narrow down his identity?" I leaned forward to take a closer look at him.

    His eyes shed coldly for a second before he shook his head. "He is younger, I know that. But she never told me his name," he murmured. "Can''t you people track her phone or something? His contact information should be there in her call log," he diverted the conversation.

    "I''m sure someone will get their hand on it. Thank you for the idea, though." I didn''t show it on my face but I knew instantly that he had not called her in a long time. There was something else, but I couldn''t figure it out right at that moment. Something to do with his cellphone.

    "Can you tell me a bit about your rtionship with Maya and why you broke up?" I asked finally.

    He gritted his teeth and I saw Collins move forward to stop him. "You don''t need to answer that question," he said promptly, making McCain stop. He looked towards thewyer and shook his head.

    "I will cooperate with the detective on this. Our rtionship was strained and we fought whenever we saw each other, but I still love her a lot," he admitted.

    "I understand," I retorted promptly. "I can see that yourpsed rtionship with your wife put great emotional strain on you, so I won''t continue with that line of questioning." I sometimes wondered how I could act so understanding when facing prime suspects. "When was thest time you met her?" I asked.

    He thought about it for a second. "It has been a week or two," he said softly. I wrote that down quickly.

    "Can you give me a definite date? That would really help us narrow down the number of people who frequented her house in the meantime. Everyone from people who worked in the house to her acquaintances will be questioned, so any help you can offer would be appreciated."

    McCain blinked, overwhelmed.

    "A particr date?" he whispered. I nodded in encouragement.

    "Anything you remember is fine." I saw Collins move defensively. "Only if yourwyer allows it, of course." I smirked.

    McCain nced between Collins and I and suddenly realized something.

    "I really don''t remember," he said finally.

    "It''s okay." My phone pinged and I looked at the screen quickly.

    It was from Nash. [Found footage. Need to go over it to confirm identity.]

    I turned the phone off.

    "Please let us know if you remember something," I told him quickly. "I think that will be all for now," I said. "We''ll call you if we have more questions."

    He nodded.

    "You may leave now."

    I stood up and guided them out. As they left, I heard McCain hiss angrily towards hiswyer. The conversation went on as they disappeared. Not one word was said about his son who was found at the crime scene beside his dying mother.

    How typical.

    An officer who was standing towards the end of the room came towards me with a gossipy look.

    "Miss Lewis, did you go hard on the suspect because of Collins?" the younger man asked as he cradled his cup of coffee.

    "No, I was really nice. Why?" I asked curiously.

    "Mr. McCain kept mentioning that Collins'' presence was making him look guilty." The boyughed.

    "Thanks for telling me," I patted the boy''s shoulder. I saw someone approaching me from the corner of my eyes and stilled.

    I saw his hand touch mine before he took it into his. "Let''s not touch others so easily," Sebastian said ndly. I snickered as I turned to look at him.

    "Dr. Butler!" the boy shouted, starry-eyed. "I heard about the recent cold-cases you handled," he said.

    "Right. If my assistant wasn''t busy furthering her career, I would have asked you to talk to her for details." He shot me a nce.

    "Oh, Miss Lewis, you were Dr. Butler''s assistant! I just remembered. You''re so good at your job that it''s a shame you worked for him."

    I broke into giggles. "I only got into this industry because he practically coerced me into it. You need to thank him for my services," I taunted.

    "Services" Sebastian trailed off. "I see little of you at home, Evie. Let''s talk before I die from silence." He grumbled. "I''ll take her with me now," he imed as he spoke to the starry-eyed boy.

    The other was wide-eyed and wordless at this development.

    "You two" he trailed off.

    "Exactly. So, don''t be so tactless and stop us, okay?" Who would have thought Sebastian to be so assertive in romance? It was amusing, to say the least.

    "Yes!" the boy eximed and scurried away.

    I clucked my tongue. "Look at what you did," I teased. "Scared him away." I snickered.

    "For all the good that therapy did you, I never thought I would be bothered by you touching others so freely," he said. Iced my finger through his and we walked down the hallway towards the office I now shared with Nash. Perks of being on the ace team, I guessed.

    I saw the looks and didn''t say much.

    "I would have thought the whole station knew by now because of Nash, but they still remain clueless," Sebastian said as we stopped in front of the coffee maker. He grabbed a cup for me and passed it along.

    "Nash isn''t a gossip like you believe," I told him calmly as I cupped the mug and took a sip from it. I hissed as the too hot liquid hit my tongue. "It''s too hot," Iined.

    "Yes, the sleepless nights and mediocre quality of coffee is hurting your intelligence," he stated inly. "I was depending on Nash to tell everyone he saw that we were involved with one another."

    I rolled my eyes. "Like he would do that without me confirming anything." I shrugged.

    "Yes, theck of confirmation. It hurts me still." He shook his head, acting offended.

    "You''ve basically told the world that we''re an item. I don''t have enough time to contradict you. So, you''re safe." I patted his back. "Also, I was thanking the boy for giving me crucial information," I clued him in.

    "What information did he give you?" he asked, dumbfounded.

    "Collins came in with McCain and well"

    "Ah, McCain. Singer and suspected of murder. Did you treat him poorly?" he asked.

    I shook my head. "Why would I do that? I need to keep up my rapport with him until I get a confession out of him. We don''t have enough evidence to lock him away."

 Chapter 125: Aiming for a Confession

    Chapter 125: Aiming for a Confession

    "Especially with Collins on the tail?" he asked. "You''ve been stressed about him for a while now. What about all of this bothers you?" he asked.

    "I feel like he is up to something. Something bad. And it has to do with you." I stared ahead. "He is ying a game with us. He is calling up families who are involved with the mysterious man the one going around the city inspiring people to give in to their instinct to kill."

    "And what better way to do it than to inspire them and then take their money to defend them in court?" Sebastian asked.

    "It just doesn''t fit. The pompous nature and superiorityplex does, but our previous descriptions and criminal profile don''t match." It was frustrating.

    "Sometimes, profiles don''t match," he told me. "But I am of the same opinion. So far, he doesn''t look like the person we are looking for, but we can''t have our guard down. Not yet."

    "You need to tell me why. Don''t leave me hanging," I said quietly.

    Sebastian looked at me from the corner of his eyes. "Well, while the godplex guy was trying to be known to us, he was ying a game of hide and seek. He is not an attention seeker, though. Collins is a ssic attention-seeker, a cartoon viin if you will. He likes to take big cases and make a point. It''s not godplex it''s inferiority that drives him."

    I took a sip of my now cool coffee. Indeed, when I drank it at normal temperature, it tasted horrible. I scrunched my brow but continued to take another sip.

    "I need to go over security footage and hopefully, we will find something substantial to get a confession out."

    Sebastian patted my back. "I''ll go back to writing a report on the multiple arson cases that I just solved."

    I chuckled. "They really are making you do all the cold cases irrespective of them being a serial killer or not!" I had to give it to him, though. He was being really nice and solving them without a fuss.

    "Yes. They''re abusing me thoroughly," he groaned.

    "And why are you putting up with it?" I asked casually. It was unlike him to put up with things he hated doing.

    "Well, the only way I can remain close to you and see you every other hour is if I work in the station." He looked at me like a lost puppy and I covered my mouth with my hand in surprise.

    "You''ve been reading a lot of romance books, haven''t you? So corny!" Imented.

    "The least I can do to affirm my emotions, Evie." He patted the top of my head. "Will you be pulling an all-nighter again?" he asked.

    "I think I will. What will you do?"

    He shrugged. "I am too tired to cook tonight. I''ll order in and keep some aside for you. I will bring it in for breakfast tomorrow. I doubt you''ll get up to grab food while you work."

    I smiled. "You do know me." Of course, he did. After living together, it was a foregone conclusion. He knew me before then, but now he was a confident and more expressive person.

    "Get back to your work, I''ll finish mine and apprehend this bastard," I smirked.

    "You''re getting uncannily confident about these cases. We need to keep a check on that," he teased softly, ruffling my hair. "You''ll be really famous if you get a confession out of him, will I have to fend off men with a stick after that?" he wondered.

    "Get going and put your thoughts to good use," I warned yfully.

    "Yes, Ma''am." I chuckled as he left.

    When I entered the office, Nash was going through papers. "You''re finally here!" He sighed.

    "Is it good news?" I asked, going to his side and peering at the paperwork. It was the footprint analysis. Shoe size was a match and Nash had already secured the list of people who had bought the shoe in the city.

    "Yes. His name is on the list and we have further proof because he posted about his new shoes all over his social media. I already saved it and took print outs of them for you to use. As for the CCTV, I watched all evening and someone did go into the house through the backyard."

    He turned the screen to me. I looked at the screen. I couldn''t see the numberte on it, but the man who appeared out of the car had the same stature and gait as McCain.

    He was in the house for half an hour before he rushed out and drove off in the car.

    "We need to confirm the car model with his and follow it to see where it goes, don''t we?" I asked, feeling uneasy.

    "I am worried that he already got rid of the murder weapon. That would have been crucial information," Nashmented as he yed with the pen.

    "For now, let''s get the traffic footage and see where the car goes. If we can prove that he was not in his house that day, it would do us a huge favor," I supplied helpfully.

    His eyes lit up.

    "They can dispute the words of a young child, but they can''t refute footage, right?" he said with a sadistic gleam.

    I chuckled. "You''re right. My treatment of Collins shook McCain, too. He might not be confident in his choice ofwyer and drop Collins altogether."

    Nash jumped to his feet and pulled me into a hug. "God, you''re an evil genius. I am d you use your intelligence and glib tongue for good. I''d have a huge problem on my hand if you turned to the dark side."

    I patted his back and Iughed. "Okay, this is too much affection for me. I''ll apply to the traffic police control station for the footage and get a full image of where he went and what he did."

    Nash nodded enthusiastically. "I have never been more thankful of how good surveince in our city is until now."

    I rolled my eyes. "You should also apply for bank transactions made in the recent past. If we see a purchase or cash withdrawal during that day, we will have reasonable doubt on his alibi."

    I tilted my head to a side. "But how did you get such good footage? He wouldn''t have gone through the backyard if there were CCTVs on that road," I asked him thoughtfully.

    Nash smirked. "Indeed. There weren''t CCTVs on the road and their personal security camera was broken long ago, but the houses opposite to Maya''s house had a new security system. That''s why I got it."

    I sank into my seat. "Thank god for that."

    "Now, we just need to look at every traffic footage until we find him, right?" Nash said slowly. He looked like he was about to die.

    "Another day of hard work, Nash. Buckle up!" I cheered him on.

    "I don''t know how you are so chirpy. You''ve grown chattier since you started working. Ugh, I thought I liked it. Now I feel like I am part of some crime-fighting duo."

    I mock-red at him. "I can''t sulk. I need the motivation to work," I admitted.

    "I hear the new recruits are gossiping about your overprotective boss." I scoffed. "I thought you would have fun keeping your rtionship a secret. But turns out, Sebastian was too nervous you would be stolen away."

    I groaned. "So, you knew the full extent."

    "Have you seen the skip in his step recently? He''s a genius in the field but I didn''t live under a rock all this time. I have some good skills too, you know?"

    I widened my eyes and looked at him. "Get back to work. We need to bring him in as soon as possible."

    "Hopefully without awyer," Nash added.

    Half an hourter, we had all the footage we needed and looked through each and every one of them. It was close to ten in the night when we were done.

    "Do you think we have enough to bring him in for a second round of questioning?" Nash asked.

    "He went to a grocery store before going to Maya''s home. We sent an officer to get the camera footage from there, too. It should be here in a while. We''ll have a record of what he was wearing and proof that he lied about his whereabouts. Then, we can match his clothes to the person who entered and show exactly where he went. I think this is enough suspicious behavior to bring him in, don''t you think?"

    Nash thought about it for a second. "It''s gettingte. Should we wait until tomorrow?" And then he shook his head. "No, we need to strike while the iron is hot."

    "If we call him urgently, he might not bring thewyer with him. And we can talk to him until we have enough information from his mouth to dispute."

    "Then, are we aiming for a confession?" I asked.

    "That is the best option for us, isn''t it?" He turned to me with a determined look. "Let''s bring him in right now."

    I made the call. There was a slight panic in his voice but when we sent over an officer to bring him, he didn''t protest.

    "He''s in Interrogation Room 2. He''ll call Maya his wife and act like he is a misunderstood hero. Let him y that game. Slowly break into their rtionship and how bothered he was that his ex-wife was seeing someone new."

 Chapter 126: Met at a Blind Date

    Chapter 126: Met at a Blind Date

    Nash looked at me surprised. "You''re giving me instructions now, are you?" he said with mirth.

    "I did the first interview, so I have more insight than you. You''ll do really well, anyway." I gave him a yful smile.

    "Okay. We won''t aggravate him, okay? Acknowledge his superior status and put pressure on him politely," Nash exined as we walked to the interrogation room.

    When we were standing in front, Sebastian walked over to us.

    "You''re leaving?" I asked when I noticed his bag in his hand.

    He nodded. "Yeah, I ordered dinner already, it should arrive shortly after I reach home. Take care," he said softly.

    There were people surrounding us. His doting tone didn''t bother me in the least but I could sense the astonishment at the scene that was ying out in front of my colleagues. He closed the distance between us and I was sure that he was going to pat my head once again when he pulled me into his arms.

    After a long day of work, his embrace felt warmer than usual. I didn''t feel suffocated like I usually would have. Furthermore, I burrowed into his arm.

    There was pin-drop silence around us before I heard grumbling.

    "Isn''t there some police which stops people from disying affection in the workce?" Nashmented from beside me.

    Sebastian and I pulled away quickly and looked at Nash with wide eyes.

    "You''re just jealous," Sebastian said casually. "Evie, I''ll get going now," he imed and then pivoted in the spot before going out.

    My gaze turned to the others, who stood stock still until they noticed my gaze. With that, the station was abuzz again and I was walking into the interrogation room like nothing had happened.

    Nash sat directly opposite to the McCain and mirrored his position. McCain had his elbows on the desk and clutched his fingers together as he stared at the wall. When he heard us, he turned with a stunned look and then gave us a small smile.

    "Mr. McCain, apologies for calling you over again. We are trying to exclude all doubts within twenty-four hours so that we can pursue separate leads," he said. This tactic ensured that we didn''t imply that the man sitting in front of us was a prime suspect. Instead, they were simply answering questions and helping us do our jobs.

    The tone made them think they are important and made it easy for us to make them talk when the time came.

    Nash had practiced and perfected the art of ''let me go home'' and ''you are the person who can solve all my problems'' down to thest syble, therefore, I didn''t offer up my services as of yet.

    I flipped through the paper, mulling over the questions and sequences in my head before I began questioning.

    "As you''ve called me close to midnight, it must be a priority," McCain said softly, looking away from his sped hands to Nash for a second before he hung his head and took a deep breath.

    Theck of hiswyer on the seat beside him was felt acutely.

    "We''re going to talk about that in a little bit but" Nash trailed off as he rubbed his finger on his palms, seemingly in deep thought. "We just have a lot of questions to ask."

    McCain looked up with a glimmer of hope and said a quick ''Yes,'' before returning to the previous position.

    I finally sprung into action. "Sorry about the dy. It has been a long day and the weather isn''t ideal either. We''ve been running non-stop despite the power outages in the server." I sat up to face him head-on.

    McCain put his hand palms down in a defensive yet trying to hide his position, and I nced before searching into his eyes. I introduced ourselves, making sure he followed every word.

    His eyes were alert and he followed the cue of my hand easily. I was just being sensitive because I believed he would jump to call his wretchedwyer if he got close to a confession. Therefore, this was simply covering all our bases.

    "As you know, we are investigating the murder of Maya. Because it is sote at night, I will read you your rights and again, this is a voluntary interview. Anytime you are done, we will drive you home. Given that it iste, this is just a precaution," I said quickly when suspicion shed in his eyes. He calmed down and leaned forward slightly to look at the piece of paper I had slid to his side of the desk. "Before we ask you any questions, you must understand your rights."

    I read him his rights. "If you feel like you can''t answer a certain question, you may remain silent. You may call for awyer in the middle of the interview at any time."

    He was silent for a split second. "Okay."

    "If you have any questions about your rights or you want more rification, ask now or ask at any point in time during the interview. I''ll be happy to exin again." I gave him a warm but tired smile.

    "Thank you for being so nice," he said quietly. "I was thinking that I would be condemned as the murderer without being investigated properly!" he pushed back a sob. I reckoned his nervousness was making him tear up and he was using his acting skills to his fullest advantage.

    What a phony.

    "No problem," I said quickly. "If you understand and you wish to answer our questions, please sign this paper. Subsequently, I will sign as a witness." I put forward a pen towards him.

    As he signed, he said something that interested me. "I''m going to answer questions some questions."

    Nash, who was slumped in his seat sat up and stretched. "Hey, if you see a question that you feel ufortable with, just tell us. We''ll move to another one, okay?" he assured.

    That was a lie. We always found ways to ask the same questions in a roundabout way. Reassuring suspects under false pretense was an art Nash had done since the dawn of time. I had yet to learn it, so I left him to do the maniptive work.

    I noted the time after McCain pushed the signed paper back towards me.

    I signed slowly through all the boxes and put the paper aside.

    "Oh, did you bring your phone with you?" Nash asked suddenly. He nodded.

    "I''m going to apologize for speaking to you again," I said softly. Nash''s chair squeaked and he rolled around in the room with a grin.

    "I think my chair is broken!" he imed. He looked towards the spare chair in the corner and slugged towards it. "It''s a game of musical chair now," heughed as he picked it up and reced his.

    McCain watched as the whole exchange happened and I saw him befortable with our awkward little shuffle. He crossed his arm on the desk but leaned forward in an open manner.

    "I interviewed you this morning but Detective Nash and I didn''t get time to speak about it. A lot of our questions might ovep as we have been running all over the ce. If you can give him a recap of what you said would be really helpful."

    "The tip we received was from a neighbor who said there was a struggle in the house, but we found no break-ins, so we knew it was someone she would open doors to or had ess to her house," I exined. "Would you mind exining to us a little about it? Of course, I won''t hold you to the minute details."

    "So, I saw my wife a week and a half ago. I know that the cops were searching for footage of the perpetrator. So, with these circumstances, I was a suspect." He paused. "I wasposing all day and didn''t go out of my home. So, I don''t have a provable alibi. I tried to look for some evidence to prove my position, to see if I had sent any texts around the time"

    I coaxed him on. "The cops had a warrant so I let them search my house and my car. That''s about it."

    I nodded. "You mentioned that your wife was seeing another man. Did you find out who it was?" I asked.

    "Ah, yes. It was someone she met on a blind date," hemented bitterly.

    "Okay. Do you know if he was visiting that day?"

    "Uh I can''t be sure. I wasn''t in contact with her for a while."

    I nodded sagely.

    "She has a job but she is on vacation, so I don''t really know her whereabouts."

    "You said that you were going to see if you messaged anything during the hours of the murder. Did you find anything in that window?" I asked casually.

    "No, nothing in that window, but I did send messages around that time frame, that should help you pinpoint where I was." He smiled.

    And that was when I knew that he had another phone that he used to contact people apart from the number we had on our hands. Now, we needed to get hold of that before some darnedwyer swooped in and used it as evidence to say he was nowhere near the scene.

    Not that the evidence we had on our hands was easily dismissible. But a small shred of doubt to flip the judgment and as the person investigating and trying to catch the criminal, I couldn''t let that happen under my watch.

 Chapter 127: Descend on His House

    Chapter 127: Descend on His House

    "Was the pattern of locking yourself in your house andposing on hours for an end typical of your routine the week prior as well?" I asked casually, cing my chin in my hand and leaning against the wall on my side. I was giving him a rxed expression that would help him open up more.

    So far, his shoulder was still slightly stiff and he was ncing at the bored Nash quite often.

    "Yes, very typical. I was only eating snacks andposing at the time." He looked at Nash with a pleading look to understand. How fascinating. Though he was being questioned by me, he wanted reassurance from Nash.

    I looked towards the man and could see that his bored expression could induce anxiety and need to exin more. In reality, Nash was probably not doing this on purpose, he was just tired from a long week of work.

    "Do you have any questions for me before" I trailed off, looking at him curiously.

    He thought about it for a moment. "Why am I under suspicion?" he asked finally. "Is it just my rtionship with her?"

    Nash stepped in. "Yes, that is one of the big reasons," he began. "Your situation is unique. That is why we had a search warrant for your house and your car. Because we needed to make sure we covered all our bases due to your rtionship with the victim."

    "Yeah, it could exonerate you pretty quickly," I added after Nash was done exining. "Do you like living in this city? You used to live in the capital before, didn''t you?" I gave him a small smile.

    "It''s alright," he shrugged.

    "Did you meet your wife here?"

    "No, no. We knew each other in high school and reconnected at university. We moved to this city together," his voice was measured but still warm as he spoke about her.

    "Do you have any questions, Nash?" I asked quickly.

    "Yeah!" he chirped, bouncing his leg. "You mentioned that the whole day of the crime you were at home,posing, right? Do you specifically remember that?"

    "Yeah!" McCain said confidently.

    "Is it just between the time period we are asking about or the whole day?"

    "Literally all day. At the moment, apart fromposing, I am not hanging out with too many people. My wife and the girl I talk to are probably the only people in contact with me. Both of them were busy or out of town. So" he trailed off.

    "Did you go cruise through the town or anything?" Nash asked, sounding confused.

    "I might have done it before, but people recognize me easily when I am on the street," he exined softly.

    That they did. But people were also blissfully ignorant about everything around them. Which was what he must have been banking on, of course.

    "Did you go out to eat or anything? Buy snacks maybe?" Nash prompted.

    "No, I didn''t go to eat or buy snacks." Very confident answer.

    "What other vehicles do you own apart from the one we searched?" I asked after a moment of silence.

    He exined the three other models and then stopped. "Will you be searching those as well?" He didn''t seem bothered by that, though. Like he had cleaned everything down and we couldn''t find a single clue.

    "We might. Would you have a problem with that?" I asked.

    "Not at all!" he said quickly.

    "Are the cars used only by you or does someone else use them too?" I asked.

    McCain didn''t understand what we were asking.

    "The girl you are talking to, does she have ess to your cars? Did she take one of them when she went out of town?" Nash exined softly.

    "My manager has ess to my cars, but no one else." McCain stared at the two of us. "The girl I am talking to took her friend''s car for the visit." He licked his lips as he thought about what to say next. "Primarily, I drive the car you searched, the others are pretty much for show and special asions."

    "The vast majority of the time when you are doing errands or something, you take that car?"

    "Yeah. Exactly," he said with a smile.

    There was a long silence as I wrote on my notepad.

    "You know we didn''t bring you all the way here to talk about yourpositions," Nash sat up and approached him cautiously.

    "Yup," McCain responded.

    "Then why did you think we brought you here?" he asked.

    "Because I am the closest person to the victim. The one with the strained rtionship," he amended quickly.

    "And that is why I am asking you, who can attest to your whereabouts on that night?" The emphasis was on exonerating McCain from suspicion. This was the possibility given to him.

    McCain was silent. "Were you inside your house? Or did you go out and drive through the city?" Nash asked again. No answer. "So, did you take your car out that night?"

    He shook his head.

    "Okay. How many sets of keys do you have to that car?" Nash changed his approach.

    "Two," McCain said immediately.

    "You and who?" Nash pressed.

    "My manager," he replied easily. I saw the calction in McCain''s eyes and had to smile. His manager was a short and plump man in his forties and looked nothing like McCain. There would be no passing of the crime onto someone else.

    "Okay, and where were the keys that night?"

    "I would have had one and my manager would have one." McCain nodded.

    "And your manager was not driving your car around, right?" Nash prompted.

    "Not to my knowledge, no. I was in the house all day."

    Nash nodded and nced at me. He seemed to want to do the majority of the talking for now and I had no qualms sitting in and observing.

    "Now, let''s talk about that night in specific," Nash hardened down. "You have lived in this town for how long in this city?"

    "It has been five years now," McCain responded.

    "So you are familiar with the city and the roads, right?" Nash prompted.

    "Not really. I don''t associate with people much and drive only to the essential ces."

    "So, you''re kind of a loner, huh?" Nash smiled. "But specifically on that day, the day you told us you were in your roomposing all day, did you go out?" he asked again.

    He shook his head.

    "But it is safe to say that it is not true, correct?" Nash responded stoically.

    "Why would I lie? I mean"

    Nash pressed his lips together. "Maybe there is a misunderstanding about why we are here." Nash cleared his throat. "As I said, we are looking for a needle in a haystack. But you are making it sound like we randomly came across the idea that it was you."

    McCain was silent, but I could sense the defenses going up.

    "So, what could have brought us to you?" Nash asked, cocking his head. He implored McCain to answer rather than confess. He was giving the suspect a chance to spin the story to his imagination.

    "Probably that I was married to her." He stopped. "And that we are divorced due to violence ording to rumors," he corrected at thest moment.

    "Believe me when I say that the full wing of our police department is going to descend on your house and cars. Right now, my primary concern for working until midnight is because we need to give answers to your son, who still doesn''t understand what happened to his mother. It has been a day and he must be feeling the brunt of her absence by now. I want to give him answers and I want your help."

    "I know!" he sighed.

    "I have your car parked at the back of her house and I need to know why."

    He shrugged. He didn''t have any idea why.

    "I need to know why and who brought it over."

    "We can put you out of suspicion if you tell us who had your car and why they would be near her house."

    "It has been a full day now!" I prompted.

    "I have no idea," he remained staunch.

    "And you have been in the city for how long?" Nash asked again.

    "Five years?" He was visibly less confident now.

    "Five years. That means you know what we do. I work with the top detectives in the city and you know what we have ess to." His gaze was piercing. "Do you think we are not going to track the cameras, a vehicle all over the city? We control cameras at bus stops, inside all transportations, traffic cameras. We can look out of every building and into the streets and you are telling me that I didn''t see you driving your car to her house. And I didn''t see you moving out of thene and turning right to go in the opposite direction of your home?"

    He gave specific directions that McCain had taken.

    McCain was speechless.

    "And then you turned."

    "It just looks like my car. I didn''t see the videos and I didn''t see me," McCain denied quickly.

    "You know what we have allowed you to know." Nash went really hard when he wanted to. It was not something I liked to mess with.

    "Can I see this stuff that you are talking about?" McCain said after a long time. Now, his voice was mildly condescending. As if he believed that we were bluffing him into making a confession or giving us a hint that he was out of the house that day.

 Chapter 128: Skipping Over Linear Flow of Time

    Chapter 128: Skipping Over Linear Flow of Time

    "Do you think we brought you up here to show you a video?" Nash retorted.

    A small smile yed on his lips. He really didn''t believe we had evidence. "We don''t understand why you went to her house. Are you afraid to tell us that you went over to see her and then came out while she was alive?"

    And there it was, the opportunity to say that he hade out of the house but that he had not killed her. I stared at McCain to see if he would take the bait.

    "We can work with you there. But I know you went to her house. I saw you in your shirt, walking into the house through the backyard, not talking the cement path but going through the soil and grass," Nash exined passionately.

    McCain turned to me for help. He was wide-eyed and caught in the headlight.

    "Why did you go to her house? What did you talk about?"

    McCain stared at the wall, thinking about what he should say next.

    If he wasn''t so surprised and scared, he might have thought about getting awyer. Instead, he persisted and thought about appeasing our curiosity and still getting out of this situation innocent.

    "Maybe my days are slipping. Maybe I thought I was in the house all day." He scrubbed his face. "But I am so sure that I was in the house," he said in a small voice. "Can''t you track my phone to see where I was at the time?" he pleaded.

    "Okay," Nash said quickly, not putting emphasis on it.

    "Why did you go to her house?" Nash asked again.

    "I don''t even think I went out of the house!" McCain breathed heavily.

    Nash waited patiently, not falling into his panicked state. He didn''t give any reassurance.

    "But we have footage of you going to a store to buy things," Nash said quickly. "Even if you are not sure, we are sure that you weren''t in your house all day."

    McCain couldn''t bend out of that logic. This part was true. He had gone out of the house and we had video footage to prove that.

    "I did go to the store one of these days," he said softly.

    "Do you remember which store you went to?" Nash asked.

    "No." McCain shook his head. "I know that the clerk had very broken English, but nothing else."

    Nash nodded. "Okay. Tell us what time of the day it was."

    "I don''t know Early afternoon, maybe?" he said. "I was just driving around, my mind was in turmoil because I couldn''tpose the tune for my newest song and I needed some air. I was a little distressed."

    "Okay."

    "I drove to Maya''s home to talk to her," he said.

    "Okay."

    "And we were talking for some time when she started freaking out and asked me to leave."

    "And did you leave?" Nash asked on cue.

    "Yeah, I left immediately."

    "When you say she freaked out. Why did she freak out? What did she do after that? Did she scream at your, throw things scratch you?" Nash asked.

    My eyes flitted to the scratch on his bicep but I didn''t look at it for too long so that McCain didn''t get a clue.

    McCain remained silent.

    "You have a scratch on your bicep, so"

    McCain frowned. "No. I scratch myself in my sleep. That''s what" He made a motion of scratching his arm to reinforce his words.

    "Okay" Nash ended the conversation quickly.

    We now knew that there had been some sort of struggle even though Maya couldn''t overpower McCain in the situation. She did get a scratch on him.

    "Okay, so where was the conversation taking ce?" Nash asked immediately after. "Was it in the living room or dining area? Where was it happening?"

    The thing about rapid fire questions was that the suspect didn''t get enough time to think through their story and connect the dots. It made them leave out details and gave us leeway to pry and break their story apart.

    "It was in the living room," he said softly.

    "Okay, apart from you and her family, who else would be in the living room in the recent past?" Nash enquired.

    McCain stiffened. "I wasn''t closely in touch with her. I suspect that the guy she was talking to would be there, too."

    "So, you remember her freaking out and you came out of the house. Where did you head after that?" I asked.

    "I don''t remember exactly where I was, I was distressed about myposition and then the freak-out. But I do know the general area I might have been in. It seemed familiar to me."

    "Okay. Where did you stop at?" Nash asked.

    "There is a residential area north of the club I frequent at. I stopped there, I think" he trailed off. He was animated in his description of the location, probably thankful that we were not asking about the encounter with his wife once again.

    We had already ced him in the murder scene during the time frame at which she was attacked, so that was a noted sess.

    "That would be Derrill Avenue that you were on," Nash said profoundly. McCain turned to look at him with wide-eyes. Like he was looking at an omniscient being.

    It was mildly amusing, that I had to admit.

    "So I started driving north after that." He thought about what to say next.

    "What did she tell you when you went into her home?" I asked, turning the conversation back. If he drove north, he went towards the river. The only thing that could mean was that he discarded the weapon there. And we knew that he went to the river because we saw footage of it. "Did she look distressed the moment you came in? Was she bothered about something or someone? Or was she just having a normal conversation with you until something upset her?"

    "Do you remember specifically what she said to you?" Nash interjected.

    "I don''t remember. I just felt something was wrong when I came in"

    "What did she say when you came in?" Nash asked.

    "She said that she was gettingte and she needed to get ready. Something like that. I was a little out of it"

    "So she said she was runningte for something?" Nash confirmed.

    "Yes," McCain said with finality.

    "And and why did you go to her house in the first ce?" Nash prompted.

    "I just I was driving around and I ended up there. I just went in without thinking much about it."

    "Did she say where she was going to or if someone wasing over" I added in.

    "She said she was going for a meeting with someone about something" he exined vaguely. "She like she wasn''t hearing what I was saying. She seemed distressed. And maybe I wasn''t talking properly either. I wasn''t myself and maybe I freaked her out."

    Little by little, nuggets of truth came out of it. It was not theplete image, but it was something.

    "So, how long do you think you were in the house with her for?" Nash asked quickly, not letting him think about an excuse.

    "Less than five minutes. It was a few words and apparently, I said something wrong and she freaked out and threw me out." He sighed.

    "So, when you crossed the railroad tracks, did you go left or right?" Nash changed the conversation back to the escape.

    This was a technique I had learned from Nash, he liked to use it with people who were slowly forming a story in their head. The problem was, they could only tell it like a proper lie if they spoke of it chronologically. If you threw of the linear movement of time and skipped from one thing to the next, it confused the suspect and made them lose track of the story they had been weaving in their mind.

    "I don''t remember the railroad tracks." He had now leaned away from the table and had ced his hand across his chest in a defensive position. As he became more confused and trapped in his own story, he would also grow conscious of his slipping control. "Those are a little further up, aren''t they? I don''t know if I went that far. I had no reason to go there. It''s near the hospital, is it not?"

    Nash looked mildly surprised that he would bring that up.

    "So, if you went to the left from the railroad, you would read the hospital, wouldn''t you?" Ah, what guilt could make one do. McCain had driven past the hospital but his ex-wife was at home bleeding out at that point. We would have already been entering the scene by that point and trying to save her life.

    And he was wondering if it was a good thing if she survived or not. Wondering if he should have saved her or made sure she was dead before he left.

 Chapter 129: Volatile Relationship

    Chapter 129: Vtile Rtionship

    "I know the areas very well" Nash told him.

    "I don''t remember the hospital. I don''t even remember the railroad."

    "They are near the residential area you spoke about, though," I said softly as I went through the map application on my phone and pulled it out. I knew where it was. And I had a clue as to who lived in the residential area.

    Collins. I might have abused my power to ess records and found that one out.

    What a wonderful image this wasing out to be.

    "Okay, so she was freaking out about something you said. What happened then? How did she kick you out?" Nash changed the topic immediately.

    This man didn''t do smooth transitions. He used my interjections as punctuation and flitted between conversations.

    "Yeah. So, she tried to open the door but it was locked. I didn''t want to be in her house when she clearly wanted me to get out. So, I exited through the backyard."

    "And that''s it?" Nash asked in a controlled voice.

    "Yup," McCain confirmed shortly.

    I pulled out my cellphone and pushed it towards him. He watched the screen carefully. It was a map.

    "Can you tell us where you went from there? Anything that can give us an alibi as to where you were and the timestamps on that so that we can exclude you from the suspect list."

    McCain quickly tapped around it to get rid of Nash''s invasive questions. He tucked his head and scrutinized while Nash gave him a stare.

    His eyes asked me if we would apply more pressure or if we should keep feeding him new stories to trap him.

    I didn''t respond. The current technique was doing fine. Maybe abination of both? Not pinning it on him was better as he wouldn''t m up and give us all the information.

    "Did you go here?" Nash pointed towards a particr road.

    "No, I don''t remember going here at all." He pressed his finger to his lip to think.

    "Mm. We caught you on camera at a store in this area. The clerk remembers talking to you explicitly. You even circled around the store a couple of times. Why did you go there?"

    McCain gritted his teeth before he answered. "I needed to buy something I presume."

    "You were definitely there, then. That means you weren''t all by yourselfposing music all day. So why would you tell us, tell the police thates to your house"

    McCain interjected, trying to exonerate himself. "I told you. I thought it was another day. I told you that I don''t know which day it was." He was making animated gestures, trying to get his point across.

    "So when did you think you went to her house and the store?" Nash asked, his voice low and firm. He had leaned into McCain, and even though his posture was aggressive, his tone was still calm and somewhatforting.

    "I don''t know." He shrugged.

    "When did the policee over to your house and call on you to talk about Maya''s death, then?" Nash asked.

    McCain grew silent. "Yesterday," he was quiet.

    "Ah, and when we asked you where you were and thest time you had gone over to Maya''s house, you said you weren''t in contact with her for more than a week. You didn''t feel the need to tell us that such an interaction had happened and you had lost track of time as to when it was?" Nash pressed, now unkind.

    I tapped on the map on my phone. "Did you get far enough to see the elementary school to the right?" I asked, immediately when he wouldn''t answer.

    "I don''t know."

    "Where did you go after? Straight home?"

    "Yeah. I just I needed to get some air and then go back."

    Nash took up the questioning again. "When youst saw Maya, what was she doing? How did she look when you walked out of the house?"

    Of course, we didn''t expect McCain to tell us that she was lying in a pool of her own blood. That would have been wishful thinking.

    "Uh she was looking at her phone."

    "Did she walk towards your direction to close the door or something?" he inquired, leading him on.

    "No I don''t think so."

    Yes, because the back door had not been closed. Someone from outside would think it was, but you could twist the knob and get in without a hitch.

    There was silence. I bit my lip as I looked up at him abashedly. I knew to pretend like I was reluctant to ask something so personal. "Can I ask you something personal?" I said softly. "It''suhyou mentioned that you had a strained rtionship with Maya. You mentioned that she was talking to another guy. You also mentioned that you were talking to another girl. Did you guys have an open rtionship while you were together?" I asked.

    "Uh not really." He was unsure of how to answer.

    "Like it''s not been really long since the divorce and it''s hard to see new people so early on"

    "No. I have a girlfriend and she had a boyfriend. That''s all. It was an understanding between us. That, as long as our son was okay, we wouldn''t bother about the rtionships of the other." I could hear his confidence drop. He started the sentences strongly but eat up the words as his voice dipped towards the end. A ssic sign of not being sure of what he was talking about.

    "Every marriage has a rough period. Especially in the case of celebrities where the world has their eyes on you and the rtionship is vtile." I was pulling out the big guns. I showed sympathy and understanding towards him. To him, he thought me empathetic and would open up about his rtionship with me.

    "Yeah" he trailed off, remembering something with a faraway look in his eyes.

    "How long has the strain been going on, then?" I asked.

    "A few years I mean" His eyes were zed. "I didn''t tell her about my problems anymore and she didn''t want anything to do with me. Whenever we got together, we were toxic. God, it looked like a crime scene all the time."

    He shook his head.

    Great choice of words there, champ.

    "We were great recently. We were understanding towards one another and coborating to bring up our son." He looked at me for reassurance.

    "Was Maya only talking to a guy or was she also involved with girls?" Nash asked suddenly, surprising me.

    I controlled my expression and saw the panic sh in McCain''s eyes. Ah, so there had been girls too.

    "She did have female friends. She was nning on going out with them for a long weekend sometime in the future," he admitted.

    "With your son?" Nash confirmed.

    "Yes."

    "And how did that make you feel?"

    "Lonely." McCain''s demeanor was small and defeated.

    "That''s okay those are normal human feelings," Nash reassured. "Did you feel hurt?"

    "Well, yeah. I mean, she is allowed to go where she wants."

    "But still she''s your ex-wife and you have a son together. Even if you are divorced and seeing other people, it is tough to see somebody you care about somebody that you love go out with someone without you. And I get that."

    There was silence.

    "Is that why you were driving around campus all day?" Nash asked. "Cause you missed her?"

    "I I had a lot going on in my mind and I needed to think." He paused. "I couldn''tpose at all and I cleaned the house all day. And then I wandered."

    "Did you talk to other girls that day? When you found out?" I asked.

    McCain looked at me guiltily.

    "It''s fine. When we get hurt by the people we love, we want to relieve it. It''s natural to choose to hurt them back or feel better from the attention of others. Don''t me yourself for that," I reassured.

    "No I didn''t talk to anyone else," he said finally.

    "And this was yesterday?" Nash tried to confirm.

    He blinked. "As I said, I have the days mixed up"

    "Okay then the day you went to see Maya, did you text any other girls?" Nash reframed the question.

    "I I think so?" he was unsure.

    "Okay, fair enough!" Nash rested his case.

    We went off into a tangent about where he went for lunch and when he got out of the home. Where did he go what did he remember? He was drivingpletely erratically.

    At this point, we had been in that room for forty minutes.

    "I drive like this sometimes to clear my head. I like exploring, so I drive along the small alleys to get familiar with unknown roads. I often get lost and need navigation to get back home."

    "Again not trying to fault you for anything. Sometimes days can be a blur, familiar roads can seem new, too."

 Chapter 130: Fact Check

    Chapter 130: Fact Check

    He stared at me, waiting for me to say what I actually wanted to. "So, you were cruising around the city alone while your ex-wife was nning a trip with her son and friends. So, I am assuming you were very distressed. Is that correct?"

    "Yeah" McCain pursed his lips. "If I knew who she was meeting that day even the name of the boyfriend, I would tell you in detail. Whenever it was I would tell you."

    Silence.

    "I went to her house and thought about talking to her. And she threw me out a few minutester."

    "So, you went into the house and spoke to her. You said something and she started panicking. She wanted you out of the house, so you left, right?" I confirmed again.

    "That''s all that happened."

    "You said she looked distressed. When you went in and she looked distressed, what did she first tell you?"

    He shook his head from side to side. He had already answered this question. He just needed to remember it.

    He just needed to keep telling us the same thing until we could point out how awkward it was for her to be distressed about a meeting. We had to make him realize that we knew he was the cause of her distress, not something else.

    "Uh that she needed to be at a meeting."

    "Other than that, what did she tell you?" Nash was casual once again. The hot and cold would give McCain a whish.

    "She said she had been busy the whole day, that she had met people."

    Nash showed a spark of interest. "Did she tell you where she met these people?"

    "She may have told me, but I didn''t understand her. She was very distressed."

    Again.

    "Did she tell you toe back some other time?" I asked.

    He was stumped for words. "I don''t think she did that."

    "She didn''t give you another time toe over to see her and your son?" He looked at me sharply. "That must have been disappointing. I can''t imagine being so lonely and lost and being treated like that." I sighed. "But she is not a person of this world, so we shouldn''t hold it against her. She must have had her own reasons."

    "As he said, Maya looked very distressed," Nash prompted helpfully.

    "Do you remember what kind of clothes she was wearing?" I asked. "Was she wearing a suit, an evening gown" I trailed off. I beckoned him to contradict his statement.

    He looked up at the ceiling. "Wasn''t my type of clothes, I can tell you that," he said cheekily.

    "What do you mean it wasn''t your type of clothes?" I asked curiously.

    Nash pressed a finger to his brow.

    "Just in, suitable." His voice was t now.

    "So, she was wearing something not to your liking," Nash stated. "Do you remember the color of the clothes? Because she was standing in front of you all this time."

    "The front of it must have been white." Of course. It was white. Her clothes had been white. But she definitely wouldn''t be meeting anyone in those clothes.

    "And what kind of bag did she have on her? You said that she was going to meet someone. She wouldn''t go without a bag, right?" I asked.

    He looked puzzled for a second. "IS the bag of importance in her murder?" he said softly.

    I blinked. "If we get the bag, we''ll be able to tell who she was meeting. Another suspect or witness." I said it simply, but the implication was that he could get out of this suspicion the police had of him.

    "Uh are there different kinds?" he asked calmly.

    "There are a lot of styles out there," Nashmented.

    "It was a simple purse. Like every other purse on the. Don''t remember the details."

    I pressed my eyes closed. Nash beside me was conniving something. And I couldn''t wait to hear what it was.

    There was silence for a few minutes.

    "Mr. McCain, my theory is that you didn''t leave when she asked you to leave the house," he said finally.

    McCain slouched slightly, his eyes showing a sh of fear.

    "I''m just being open with you," he went on to say. "You were in the house a little longer than you told us. So, I would like you to be more forting so that we can solve this mystery." His voice was low and calming, but I could see McCain was slowly deting.

    "We have her family called in for questioning and your son is suffering. The weather is terrible and we have still not given answers to anyone. Furthermore, we are continuously questioning the family, making them relive the loss that they want to forget."

    I had to give it to Nash for being an excellent emotional maniptor.

    "We need to find out the truth," I emphasized. "We have the whole department volunteering to work long hours to bring peace to Maya''s family. What I can tell you is that we will solve her case, but when that happens is what is in question. It is up to you. Because you know and we know that you didn''t just get out of the house. So, you need to tell us what happened at that time to move forward. If you maintain that you left the house immediately and walked away, it is difficult for us to believe you." My words were exnatory, telling him a little about what the evidence we had implied and that there could be adverse consequences if he didn''t tell the truth.

    "Were you looking to get back with her?" Nash prompted quickly when he saw the nk expression on McCain''s face.

    "That would have been nice, but" he stopped.

    My phone vibrated and I looked at the message on the screen. The footprint and size were aplete match and the DNA found under Maya''s nails was also a match to McCain.

    Bingo.

    "Okay I know this is a weird question but I have to ask." Nash was all apologetic and nice. "How would you define your rtionship with Maya? Are you into certain things"

    "When we were together, we were very vani," he said softly.

    "And what happened afterward? Were the two of you ipatible in some ways?"

    I looked up. The officer was asking me toe out and take printouts of the results. I closed my file and got up on my feet. Nash paused and looked up at me in confusion.

    "I just have to go out for a bit. Don''t worry. You continue," I assured him after giving him a pointed look. He nodded and turned back to McCain like nothing was amiss.

    I stepped out of the room and found the officer standing outside.

    "Thank you," I said with a polite smile. The man smiled back.

    "Thought it would be bad if I handed it to you while you were in the room. Is everything going well in there?" he asked.

    I looked at him sharply. "As good as something of this nature can go. Is there something I should know about?" I asked suspiciously.

    "There are a lot of reporters and cameras outside. It''s not just the paparazzi, it''s prime-time crime show reporters, celebrity gossip, and whatnot. It''s going wild outside." The man frowned.

    My eyes widened. "Is this happening live?" I asked promptly.

    The man nodded, pulling out his phone and showing me the videos.

    I cursed. "Do not let anyone speak to the media and don''t allow hiswyers in. If they cite some bullshitw, tell them the suspect hasn''t asked for awyer."

    "Been in this industry for a long time, ma''am," the man said promptly. I nodded and sprinted to the observation room.

    Nash was inside chattering with McCain.

    "You do realize that everything you tell us, we fact check. Regardless of what you tell us. So, based on pornographic videos you have seen or websites you have visited in the past we can find out what you were thinking."

    "Alright," McCain sounded confused.

    "We already know that you had a strained rtionship with Maya, but you never told us that you divorced on bad terms or that Maya had filed for a restraining order." Nash smiled.

    McCain remained silent.

    "I have been in the police force for a long time. And I know that a lot of people will lie to me because of my job. And I don''t get upset over that. A lot of times people tell me truths or they basically give me nuggets of truths to make me believe them but you and I know that what we are talking about now: you are not being truthful."

    Again silence. A long silence. I looked at the watch and knew that I had to head back in.

    I opened the door to the interrogation room and no one spared me a nce. McCain was engrossed in Nash''s questions and Nash didn''t want to disrupt his flow.

 Chapter 131: Acting on Impulses

    Chapter 131: Acting on Impulses

    "Please help me help you and her family. Help me give answers to your son. I don''t think you are a bad person, but something happened though something got out of control and I need to know what. Because the longer the case grows cold" he stopped. "We are going to find all the answers whether we do it now or in two weeks. But this is the time for you to be entirely honest with us. It will get worse as time passes and people will be harder on you."

    "I left her house immediately," he stuttered this time.

    "You are a smart man. You are world-renowned. So, you have to understand how the technology works. How you think we knew where exactly you went or the searches you made on the inte?"

    Only the sound of the air-conditioner could be heard.

    "How do you think I knew you didn''t get out of the house within minutes? You were there for a long time a very long time" Pause. "We know you didn''t get out of the house. You need to be honest with us. You can do that. You can do that right now."

    "II"

    It was getting too much for him, so I had to interject.

    "I understand if you have intrusive thoughts. I understand if you were depressed. I also understand that you had a drinking and drug problem. I know that you might have had some sadistic thoughts and wanted to know what it felt like to act out on your fantasies of violence. I know that temptation is out there. But I need to find out the truth."

    He looked at the desk, his eyes red now.

    "Your wife left you and filed a restraining order. She didn''t allow you to see your son. She even nned on going out with someone new and vacationing with people. So, you went to meet her. She was vulnerable so tell me the truth."

    "I think I have told you" McCain gulped.

    "Okay, did she go back into the bedroom after telling you to leave?" I asked.

    "No."

    "Did you follow her in?"

    "No."

    "Why not?" Nash asked, sounding interested. "Was it because of the neighborhood you were in? That you would get reported if there was too much sound?"

    "I don''t know what you are talking about," he said gruffly.

    "Did she run away from you?" Nash asked immediately.

    "No! She just stood there as I left, looking at her phone and smiling."

    I frowned.

    "But didn''t you say she looked distressed?" I asked innocently. McCain''s eyes turned sharply towards me.

    "I left. That is what it is."

    "Are you sure you left right away and not a littleter? Are you sure you didn''t try to talk her out of the trip or taking you back?" Nash pressed.

    "I don''t remember much but I wasn''t there for long. I don''t know crazy specifics like that I don''t know."

    Nash and I exchanged a look.

    "So, you''re telling me that your fingerprints will not be on the murder weapon?" Nash said curiously. I bit my lip to hide my smile.

    "You found it?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

    "Why? Will there be something on it that will reflect poorly on your?" Nash asked with a small smile.

    "Of course, not!" he said immediately, but his eyes flitted towards me, asking for my understanding. He could see that he was slowly losing Nash from his narrative, so I was his only reprieve. He licked his lips in a soothing gesture and nced back towards Nash.

    "Will your fingerprints me on the phone or not, Mr. McCain?" Nash pressed.

    "I have no idea! I didn''t even know that the murder weapon was missing," hemented swiftly.

    "Then why did you ask if we found it or not?" Nash tilted his head curiously.

    I leaned against the wall and silently watched the two converse. The intense exchange was perfect. I had no need to jump in right at that moment. If I sensed him closing up, I would help divert the topic. So far, we had already gotten a lot of information from him. Now, we needed the confession.

    "I don''t know the answer to your questions"

    Nash scooted back his chair, knowing he had hit a roadblock. It was time for me to jump in and make sure he kept talking.

    "There are certain questions I know the answer to and there are some I don''t know the answer to. The questions I am asking you, I know the answers of. Therefore, I know when you are not being truthful with me." I spoke slowly. "This is part of the reason why we keep asking you these questions. Help us solve the mystery. I appreciate you being honest about going to her house. That tells me you are telling me the truth because I know the answer to that. I want to bring peace to her family." I paused. "What happened to her in that house? I know you went in and you had an argument. Things went sideways tell me what happened."

    "That''s what happened!" he eximed.

    Nash jumped in. "Were you angry at her at all? For betraying you? For leaving you?" The words were asked calmly. But the insinuation was evident in his voice.

    "Not really, no," he shrugged.

    I could tell he was close to being done. But we couldn''t stop trying.

    "Well, she was your wife and you had a child together. That tells me you loved her a lot and therefore married her. And didn''t the thought cross your mind when she left you?" Nash asked. He leaned forward and stared intensely at McCain.

    "Of course, the thought crossed my mind, but I am not a monster who acts on his impulses." He gritted through his teeth. His bodynguage told me that he didn''t believe the words he was saying either. He was having to force them out of him. Or maybe I was reading him wrong. Maybe he did think he was not a monster, despite how badly he had beat up his ex-wife and child. Despite having killed her and cleared evidence of him around the perimeter to obstruct justice.

    "Acting on impulses doesn''t make you a monster," I interjected quickly. "You''re human." And that was why humans were worse. "And I am not judging you for trying to talk through your problems with her."

    Nash nodded. "Yes, we will not judge you for wanting to talk to her and sort things out. Maybe you did talk about things and you guys wanted to have sex and went to the bedroom. Maybe something went wrong and you panicked. Is that a possibility?"

    McCain shook his head. "Never."

    "So, you''re telling me you never went into her bedroom?" Nash confronted.

    "No."

    Nash nced at me.

    "And you never tried to choke her during a sexual act?" I prompted. McCain''s eyes jerked to me.

    "No"

    "You didn''t touch any part of her body?" I asked.

    "No."

    "Are you afraid to tell me if you did?" I gave him another way out. "Because it seems like you are trying to think instead of answering my questions. You are trying to think three steps forward with our line of questioning." I smiled politely at him.

    "No."

    "I think we have demonstrated enough with you that you know that I know that you didn''t leave when you said you did. You know we can follow the signal to your secret phone. You know we can get your DNA from her when she touched you."

    McCain''s face turned into a grimace.

    "Remember how I said I only ask questions I know the answer to? We already know you touched her."

    And realization dawned on him. He was trapped.

    Nash kicked my chair. "We want to know what happened. Tonight. So, what will you do?" Nash asked finally.

    And that did it. He was silent for a few minutes. "I want to call mywyer," he said finally.

    I didn''t show any emotions. Nash, too remained silent for a minute.

    "Well, you can call yourwyer once you go out," he said finally. We got up from the chair and went out. As we went out, we saw a throng of people waiting outside.

    "If he calls Collins, he''ll get McCain out in no time," Nash hissed.

    "Are you waiting for a confession? We have a lot of evidence on hand," Imented. I saw him nod and sighed. "Okay, then we can detain him by charging him for obstruction of justice and lying on testimony," I suggested.

    "We could process that," he agreed immediately.

    But it was toote. We could see Collins pushing through the crowd anding in. The media surrounded him. His face was easily recognizable from the high-profile cases he had undertaken. We heard a flurry of questions, but thankfully Collins didn''t answer anything out of spite.

    "You''re holding my client?" he said, his jaw ticking.

    "No, we are not holding him. He willingly came to talk to us without awyer," Nash responded confidently.

    "It''s past midnight. This is uwful," Collins hissed.

    "Sorry, we followed procedure and received his consent," Nash said inly. "We were just about to call you to get him," he said after a pause.

    "Did he say something?" Collins asked immediately.

    "Please talk to your client," Nash urged. We waited outside as Collins burst through the door to inside the room.

    "Get up!" hemanded. "We''ll talk about thister. We need to get you out of here immediately."

 Chapter 132: Playing With High-Profile Criminals

    Chapter 132: ying With High-Profile Criminals

    We saw them leave silently and stared. "So, what do we do next?" I asked after a minute.

    "We called in Maya''s boyfriend," Nash informed me.

    "Good. We will need to have some officers tail McCain, too," I insisted.

    "What do you want to do?" he asked.

    "See where he goes and makes him feel like he is being followed all the time. If we get a location on the weapon, that could be great," Imented with a grimace.

    "Pretty sure that he threw it in the river. Without solid evidence, we can''t send people down to search for a needle in a haystack," Nash told me.

    I nodded, knowing this was the truth. "I don''t know. The way he reacted when I said that the murder weapon might have his fingerprints" I tapped my finger against the folder. "His reaction told me that if we tried, we could find the knife."

    Nash patted my back. "Don''t think too deeply about it," he emphasized.

    "I am just nervous. If we don''t get a confession, that weasel Collins will get him out somehow. All that footage of him in her house and driving around? He could still im he had no idea what day it was. The footage would be null and void."

    "We have footprints and the son''s testimony, too," Nash assured.

    I shook my head. "The most we can charge him with is lying to the police and breaking the restraining order. We don''t have a murder weapon. The DNA under her nails? He''ll say some bullshit about it and get away." I sighed.

    "The son''s testimony," Nash ground out. But I knew he could also see how hard it was going to be.

    "He''s younger than fourteen. An unreliable narrator. You know how judges and jury look at these matters. They''ll say that the story is contaminated or scare the child into not speaking." It was the truth. It had happened too many times.

    "So, we need a confession." Nash''s shoulder slumped.

    "Let''s get back to work, shall we?" I insisted. "We still have to listen to the distress call and locate who the caller was. That is a potential witness. Then, we have to track his other phone. Because this man left his normal phone in his house and took the other one."

    I thought about it for a moment. "Who do you think will have that number?"

    "Apart from Collins? McCain''s manager," Nash said confidently. "If only we could find the murder weapon," Nash grunted.

    "Well, it''s a lost cause." I squinted my eyes. "Damn, we need to wrap this case up within a few days I have a conference in another city to attend, too," I groaned.

    "What? The one with Professor Singh?" Nash asked curiously.

    "Yeah. Something about how Foucault was wrong about the panopticon and how helpless and unwanted juvenile delinquents feel in institutions." I shrugged.

    "You really pay close attention to these things, don''t you?" Nashmented with a hint of pride.

    "of course. It''s not just a job for me. I study diligently so that I learn more. I even took the consultant exam for the government so that no one can question me and my methods." I pouted.

    "I heard you scored really high."

    "I did. Didn''t get much time to study for it, though. Sebastian doesn''t know my score yet," I told him conspiratorially. Nash burst intoughter.

    "God, you two are the strangest couple I have ever encountered. You''re worried about your grades because he might think you are stupid and he is worried about you overworking. You only talk about blood and gore." He shook his head.

    "Thanks to you, we don''t get to talk about much else," I whined.

    Nash raised his hand to clutch his heart. "Are you going to throw away valuable experience for a smooch from your boyfriend? You don''t even know how long the rtionship willst," he teased.

    I rolled my eyes. "It''s going tost for a very long time. Until one of us dies. Now, if one of us will kill the other is still in question, but I don''t think that will happen," I granted him that.

    "See? You two are so different. How can you so assuredly say that he is the end-game for you?" Nash was surprised beyond belief.

    "Sebastian knows what he wants and he never changes." I frowned. "Well, in essentials, he doesn''t change. But when you get to know him better and see him in the real light, you can see what kind of a person he is. I know that he will never abandon me or lie about caring or loving me." I paused and thought about the next part. "While I thought that was not something I could ever have, I have realized that I can give it a try. I have been the happiest with him and I have found that I enjoy being happy."

    Nash grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, we all like being happy." And then he scrunched his brow in disgust. "Now you have made me crave fluff and romance."

    I elbowed him. "Don''t tell me, the mighty Detective Nash that everyone looks up to is averse to love." I raised a brow in question. Nash turned to re at me. "What does behavioral science say about that?" I inquired teasingly.

    "It says that I was busy studying in college and then busy working day and night and never really got a taste of love." He batted my hand away.

    We had already made our way back to the office and were looking at the piles of paperwork on our desks. "Let''s get to it," I groaned.

    I pulled out the voice recording from emergency services.

    "Hi, I came out for a walk and heard some screaming from a neighborhood house. There seems to be a fight going on," a male voice came on. It was a bit jumbled and the microphone had morphed the voice a little, but theck of concern in his voice and confident lilt in his voice made him distinguishable. "I think there is a break in Can youe quickly?"

    There was information exchanged and nothing more. He didn''t give any name or particrs about what he heard, just the sounds of a violent argument.

    I tapped on the desk to get Nash''s attention. He looked up curiously.

    "Collins made the emergency call." His eyes widened. "I am sure. I analyzed his speaking style and voice modtion. It''s definitely him," I told him before he could ask me.

    "But he wouldn''t be at the scene when it was happening, right?" Nash asked. "We saw McCain stop near Collins'' residence-cum-office, so"

    "He made it from his residence, of course," I ended the thought. I pulled out the video footage of McCain driving around the city and went to the part where he was in the residential area. I noted the time and matched it with the call.

    "He stopped in the residential area for about ten minutes and then he drove off. Shortly after, Collins made the call."

    Nash scrubbed his face. "Watch the footage again. Do you see anything of note?" he asked. He stood up and came to my side. We watched slowly as the whole thing transpired. Despite how grainy the video was, when I looked closely, I could see McCain drop something on the pavement from his window.

    We were silent. "Do you think that is the weapon?" Nash asked me softly.

    "I think so"

    But it didn''t add up. "Why did he go near the river, then?" I asked, perplexed.

    "To throw us off," Nash dered. "Collins isn''t stupid. He was a public defender and he knows the technology we have on our hands. He yed it well to safeguard himself."

    "Even if McCain gets caught, Collins won''t be pulled up for fabricating evidence and tampering with the crime scene?" I asked.

    Nash looked at me with keen eyes. "What I would give to get that weapon back. I wonder what Collins did with it," Nash wondered.

    "Got rid of it," I said without emotion. "We should lose hope. Even if they bring him in for questioning, we will get nothing. He can deny everything. It doesn''t stand in the trial."

    I lowered my head to the desk.

    "This man is thorough, isn''t he?" Nash was just as frustrated, I could tell.

    "Of course, he ys with high-profile criminals. He can''t let their names be tainted or his for that matter. He takes all the precautions necessary."

    "Then our only hope is getting answers and evidence from the boyfriend and turning the manager over to our side," Nash prompted.

    "That means we need to figure out what the manager wants." I looked at him, a bubble of deviousness shing in my eyes.

    "What are you nning?" he asked with a hint of hesitation.

    "I might have to y some tricks to get a word out of the Manager. But don''t worry, I won''t do anything illegal or grey." I smiled wide.

    "So maniptive," Nash clucked his tongue.

    "You''re one to talk!" I countered. Weughed, letting our burdens go for a minute. Soon, we would have to return to work and make sure that Maya got justice.

 Chapter 133: When We Meet

    Chapter 133: When We Meet

    It was four in the morning when I scrubbed my eyes and sent out the progress email to the team. I had never imagined that writing emails to team members about progress would be on my resume. And then there was talking to the higher-ups about what was happening on the case, too. While Nash debriefed them. I would send out the collective email. Sometimes, some of them would respond with a ''keep up the good work,'' or ''has this lead been followed'' responses.

    Good thing I wasn''t nervous in front of authority or I would have been shaking in my boots. I turned off my email and rested my head on the table to get a nap. I saw Nash snoring away in his chair, his head bending over and I knew both of us were going to wake up with cramped necks and raging headaches.

    But progress had been made and we could catch some sleep.

    I woke up to someone stroking my hair. I stiffened for a second before my ears caught the sound of the familiar breathing. I stirred, finallying out of my drowsiness.

    "Awake?" Sebastian said softly. I felt a smile perk up my lips as I turned my head towards him. Ah, to wake up to his face. I had missed this. His eyes were green and bright as he looked down at me. He, too, had a small smile on his lips and his hands continued to stroke my hair.

    I hummed in acknowledgment.

    "I brought you food," he told me. He showed me the little lunch bag in his hand.

    "What did you order," I asked slowly.

    "Veggie wraps and soup." He nced at Nash, who was still sleeping. "I brought enough for both of you, but he''s a carnivore, so you can have more, okay?" I let out a small giggle. "Now get up and eat," he demanded.

    I stretched and raised my head. I finally realized that I had been surviving on coffee for the longest time and winced. "Could you heat it up?" I whined. "I''ll go brush my teeth and wash up. I need food immediately." I paused. "Wake him up, too," I told Sebastian.

    "Yes, ma''am," he teased. He swatted my butt and I stared in horror at the boyish smirk on his face.

    "Sebastian!" I hissed.

    "What?" he asked innocently.

    "What have you been reading?"

    He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Get going. Now." Themand propelled me forward and I passed by him to sprint to the bathroom with my toothbrush and toothpaste.

    When I came back, the warm aroma of soup permeated the room.

    I slumped down on the table and waited for him to bring the food to me. I saw Nash stir in his seat and blink, sleep still in his eyes.

    "Is that food for me?" he asked groggily.

    "Sorry, I only ve after my girlfriend. Co-workers don''t count in this behavior," Sebastian said ndly.

    "Cold bastard." He stretched and took the seat in front of me. The three of us shared a meal and talked about what was going on.

    "What are you working on, again?" Nash asked as he pushed the veggie wrap around.

    "Unsolved serial arson cases from six years ago. No one was hurt and the arsonist made sure every home was empty before he set it on fire." He took a sip of his soup.

    "Any suspects?" I asked.

    "Yeah. I went through the newspaper articles and whatever footage police had taken as evidence at the time," he sniffed. "No recurring faces in the crowd."

    I nodded. "Usually, arsonists have a grudge against society and want to cause trouble, but they also like toe back to see how they have affected society, right?"

    Sebastian nodded. "I can see why it was unsolved for so long."

    "But you have a lead," Nash said matter-of-factly.

    "Of course. I got a recurring theme in these cases that the police didn''t look too deeply into."

    "O wise one, tell us what it is," Nashmented humorously.

    Sebastian threw him a re. "All the residents were on vacation at the time. Not long vacations just overnight trips or weekend getaways. Always happened in gatedmunities, too." He smirked.

    "Not in the same neighborhood, I assume?" I interjected.

    "No. That''s the funny part. The fire was caused before lithium batteries caught on fire, too."

    There was silence.

    Nash looked sour. "Well, it was someone who knew those people but the movement was unnatural. What do you think?" Nash looked like he had his own theory, but he didn''t want to say it.

    "Well, you couldn''t solve it so now I have to do it for you," Sebastian taunted.

    "Hey! I was never on those cases," he objected.

    "It''s the security guard." He looked at us and saw that we wanted him to borate. "Families inform security at the gatedmunity when they will not be at home. The security guard would have ess to the crime scenes and watch from afar as people rushed to stop the fire or came to cover it. They also use a lot of lithium batteries. In shlights, portable radios, and televisions." He shrugged.

    Nash gaped. "And you have a suspect?" he asked.

    "Of course. Went through the securitypany on duty at the time and a list of people who worked."

    "And one person fits," I said immediately.

    "Yes," that was it. "I''ve put in the request for a detective to interrogate the suspect. And now I am moving on to the next case. It''s a big one, too!" He sounded so excited.

    "Is it a serial killer?" Nash asked, knowing that must have been the case, seeing how excited Sebastian was.

    "Yes. An infamous one, at that!" he chuckled.

    "Well, I''m happy you get more research and reditation under your belt," I raised a spoonful of soup to toast. Sebastian proudly raised his and we clicked the spoons before quickly putting them in our mouth.

    "You two are disgusting," Nashmented immediately. "I don''t want to eat anymore." He rubbed his stomach. "I''ll call for some takeout before the boyfriend and managere in."

    "When are theying?" I asked.

    "Boyfriend at nine-thirty and manager at twelve." I nodded.

    "You take manager and I will take the boyfriend?" I prompted with a small smile. Nash groaned.

    "You just want me to do more work, don''t you?" I chuckled. "Okay, we''re pinning it on him, right? Insinuating towards it and all?" he asked.

    "You''ve caught on. Best of luck."

    - - - - -

    One in the afternoon, Nash and I were both out, back in the office and smiling ear-to-ear.

    "We have the message history between the boyfriend and Maya stating Maya was going to stay at home that night, spend time with the kid, and have some wine after son went to sleep. She wanted a Me Day." My voice was chirpy.

    "I got McCain''s private number that nobody had. We can trace it now."

    "Case almost closed," Imented.

    "Finally!" Nash was overjoyed.

    We were writing the consolidated emails, sending in requests when someone knocked on the office door. It was a junior officer with a box in his hand.

    "What is it?" I asked, pausing my typing to look at him curiously.

    "It''s a parcel addressed to you, Miss Lewis," the guy said with trepidation. I looked at the box in his hand in confusion.

    "Did you order something and have it delivered here?" Nash asked.

    "No. I address my stuff to my apartment. They leave it with the security or under my post-box."

    I left my seat and went over to the guy. My senses tingled when I saw the pretty bow at the top and my full name written in a ssic cursive.

    It looked like calligraphy.

    Something in me moved. "Can you ce it on my desk?" I asked in a low and measured voice.

    "Miss Lewis?" he responded, bewildered.

    "Please" I urged. The guy walked over to my desk and ced it down. I took in a deep breath and pulled a pair of gloves out from the drawer.

    As I put them on, Nash walked over to me.

    "What are you expecting?" he asked cautiously. He waited as I pushed the lid off. The young officer gasped and backed away.

    "Uh you''ll need to submit your fingerprints," I told him with a small, apologetic smile. "We don''t know if this is a dummy or even real blood, but we''ll need to run some tests," I told the officer.

    "We didn''t give out the details about Maya''s murder, did we?" Nash asked, confused. "How did they know which knife was used? The same style, too."

    I inspected the handle. Indeed, it was from the same set that Maya had in her kitchen, now if it was the murder weapon, that was left to be known. The knife was nestled amongst pink silk material like an exhibit and a small note was tucked on the side.

    I flipped it around and saw the same handwriting.

    Calligraphic. Nothing to show who the writer was. They probably used a fountain pen to write it.

    "To Evie Marie Lewis. You can thank me when we meet in person. Say hi to Dr. Butler from me," I read out. "No indication as to who wrote it." I put the letter back into the box and closed it.

 Chapter 134: Morbid Victories

    Chapter 134: Morbid Victories

    "Well fuck," Nash swore. "Someone is tipping us off or ying with us."

    "Like they knew we needed the murder weapon like they had ess to it," I added.

    Nash turned to the officer. "Mind bringing the box to forensics? Give them your fingerprints and ask them to match the blood with Maya and get whatever fingerprints they can get off it."

    He rubbed his head.

    "Yes sir," the officer mumbled before picking up the box and scurrying away.

    The officer left the room and I slumped down on my chair. "Is this a message? Say hi to Dr. Butler?" Iughed humorlessly.

    "This person is giving us clues and telling us how well he knows the system," Nash borated.

    "He''s ying with us, isn''t he? He''s telling us that he can do much better without the binds ofw," I added.

    "Mocking us," Nash grunted. "What a ssic psychopath. Do you think he has ever killed?" he asked as he stared at the wall.

    "He soundswless, you know? Like he is capable of everything, but he doesn''t like to get his hands dirty. He wouldn''t stop a crime from happening. No, he would encourage it, but he didn''t directly participate in it."

    "Like a mentor," Nash concluded. "A mentor with police connections." He paused. "It''s one of us. And he is telling Sebastian that he can easily ess you."

    I frowned. "And he''s been keeping close tabs. How conveniently every case rted to himes to us" I trailed off.

    Nash pped his hand against the desk. "Time for lunch. Forget about this guy," he stated.

    "You''re taking this awfully well," Imented.

    "Yes, because they are not targeting me. I''d be more concerned if I wasn''t sure the three of us could put our heads together and drag this bastard out from his hiding spot by the hair wherever that is." The confident look in his heart made me less jittery.

    "Well, your confidence in my input is heart-warming." I chuckled. "Let''s go grab some food." I pulled up from my seat and headed away.

    "Are we going to the local sandwich ce?" Nash asked with a note of disgust. "Seriously, if I didn''t know the reason behind your dietary choices, I would haveined," he grumbled.

    "Thank you for your understanding," I injected with a smile. "We can go to a nice ce, you know? I''ll just have something vegetarian, no issues."

    "Yes, but I won''t be able to sleep at night," he retorted. "Do you think Sebastian is engrossed in the new case?" he asked.

    I turned to him with a smirk. "He got his hand on a notorious serial killer cold case that has gone unsolved for decades. Thirty years since the guy appeared and twenty of them without activity. If that is not a cold case he will fret over, I don''t know what he would do," I imed.

    Nash shrugged. "The case was bizarre," hemented. "They really didn''t find anything in it. It was as if this person didn''t exist" He shook his head in disbelief.

    "No one better than Sebastian, then. He can see things us normal folks can''t." I shrugged. "Let''s go call him."

    We pulled into the office they had assigned him and found him seated on the floor, his legs crossed as he pulled on his hair. Papers and pictures were scattered all over the floor and his eyes were wildly darting from one ce to the other.

    I leaned against the doorframe and waited for him to notice. Whatever train of thought he was exploring, I didn''t want to interrupt. He could get irritated if that happened. I knew him well enough to foresee that he would suppress the emotion when he saw I was in the room.

    He had a bad habit of suppressing his emotions and acting coldly with others, but he could be harsh with them without regard. When I was around, he mostly showed pleasant emotions like he was suppressing his darker nature and irritated side. I understood his need to show his best side, but I wondered if he had forgotten that I had fallen in love with him despite how obnoxious and narcissistic he was.

    Truly, despite knowing him for over a year, the man still bewildered me.

    It was about eight minutes before he finally noticed us. He looked up, surprise filling his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, focusing on me.

    "Hello to you too, Sebastian," Nash greeted with a tone of amusement.

    "Oh, you''re here, too," Sebastian replied before looking back at me. "Is something wrong?" he asked immediately, his smile falling.

    "It''s time to grab some lunch. Do you want toe with us?" I asked. "Or should we bring you something and talk over whatever is bothering you about the case?" I gave him that option as well.

    He looked down at the paper, conflicted. "No, I think I need to get away from it for a while. I feel like I am trying to process a lot in a short span of time and I need to not think about it for a few minutes for the puzzle pieces to fall into ce."

    I nodded. "When you have a block, you should go out and just not think about it," I assured him. "Especially on such a creative process."

    He pushed himself off the floor and looked at the scattered pieces of paper on the floor. He jumped over the papers and came to me. He slid his hand into mine and pulled me out of the room without another thought. Nash scrambled out, not wanting to be left behind.

    I saw Sebastian bending down and locking the door with the key and then putting a small manual lock on it.

    "Why are you doing that?" I asked.

    "I have all my things lying out in the open," he said softly. "It could be someone from the police force or in the industry, so I am taking precautions," he told me.

    "Smart." I gripped his fingers tighter. "As always."

    He nced at me and the frown returned. "You will tell me what is bothering you while we eat." There was no room to refute.

    "Okay," I gave in. Nash walked with us to the restaurant nearby and we ordered.

    As the tes of food came out, Sebastian finally looked at me with intent.

    "What happened?"

    I sighed. "The good news is, we have a lot of new proof to pin the case on McCain," I started.

    "And the bad news?" he asked hesitantly.

    "We found the weapon," I stated. I picked up a piece of bread and nibbled on it.

    Sebastian looked confused and turned to Nash questioningly.

    "We were following new information when a package came for Evie. Opened the box to find the exact murder weapon used, blood and all inside it."

    I could see Sebastian''s heart drop as his face swiveled in my direction.

    "We sent it to forensics to match the blood with the victim and get fingerprints. But that''s not the thing it had a note directed at me," I told him. I pressed my hand down on his palm.

    "What did it say?" he asked, his voice unusually calm.

    "Asked me to thank him when we meet and to say hi to you." Sebastian swore.

    "I am so sorry," he said softly, his head hanging.

    "Don''t be. I chose this life, remember? I wouldn''t have been coerced by you. I wanted this. I knew the risks and still followed along. I can handle it," I assured him. "Well, life has gotten exciting," I tried to joke.

    "He''s ying with us and saying that we are ipetent not to find everything on our own," Sebastian spoke. "But you already knew that."

    "I did." I nodded. "Now eat." I gestured towards the te in front of him.

    He was chewing on his food but then he paused. "I know the answer but I just can''t find it!" he gritted through his teeth.

    "The serial killer case?" Nash asked.

    "The BTS killer," he said. And then he rolled his eyes. "Thank god this was before the advent of K-pop or the fangirls would have had a fit over that name," hemented.

    "What does that stand for? Who even gave him that name?" I groaned.

    Nash broke intoughter. "It was part of hismunication with the police back in the day when he was actively killing. He wrote a whole essay about breaking, torturing, and ughtering his victims," Nash said in a low voice. We were in a restaurant full of people and there was no need to put these people through the horror of listening in.

    "B, T, and S, huh? So, someone named him because of that phrase?" I asked.

    "You would have been really young when he was active and not even born for the most part," Sebastian said with a hint of a smile. "He signed off as BTS, actually, and the police officers at the time just ran with it."

    I shook my head in disbelief. "That reeks ofck of originality, for a first," I stated.

    Sebastian mulled it over. "It does, doesn''t it?" he whispered. His eyes lit with excitement. "I might havee up with a profile," he said finally. "Let''s finish eating and get to it!"

    The excitement buzzed in the group and we rejoiced in our victories for the day, however morbid they had been. So, what if we had received a bloody knife in the mail? So, what if there was a mildly threatening letter addressed to me? That didn''t matter. As long as I was vignt, nothing would happen.

 Chapter 135: Never Make Mistakes

    Chapter 135: Never Make Mistakes

    Back in the station, I received a call from forensics and rushed over. Sebastian went along with Nash and me, curious as to what the thing looked about.

    "The packaging and handwriting can say a lot about who sent it, right?" he told us when we asked him to go back to his case.

    "You''re just tagging along because you don''t want to look at the BTS killer case, don''t you?" I answered.

    Sebastian shrugged. "While cold cases are more rewarding to figure out the answers of, they are harder to solve because of how much evidence bes redundant in that time," hemented. "The bodies have already been buried, and I have no idea if there were more cases that we had no idea about. More than that, I also don''t get a feel of the crime scene with my own eyes. Pictures show the perspective of the photographer, not that of the criminal or what I want to see. There could be more in that room that they didn''t notice," he added.

    "Yes, sir. You are the almighty criminal psychiatrist who solves all his cases. Should I light some fire on your ass and send you back to your room?" Nash teased.

    "I want to see this present. Even I have not given Evie a nicely packed present and this criminal does it? I need to see what I am up against," he said with a smirk.

    "Sending a bloody knife is not my idea of romantic. Especially when ites with a thinly veiled warning," Evie scoffed.

    "Well, I would like to help you find evidence. That''s my idea of romance," Sebastian teased.

    "From you? I would dly take it, but not from someone else. Also, with this guy in the scene, I feel like he is trying to take my ce and divert your attention from me to him." I raised a brow at him.

    He turned to me with a sly smile. "I like people on the right side of thew," he said with a wink.

    "Well, I was into exploring abandoned ces. If you think about it carefully, I was trespassing on someone else''s property. I am not on the right side of thew most of the time, either," Imented with a note of amusement.

    "God, this walk is too long," Nash grumbled from beside us and I had to chuckle.

    "Well, that is part of your charm. This guy seems more like a cockroach infestation that you want to get rid of but even the extermination can''t take care of." He huffed.

    He pushed the door open and beckoned me to enter. The sterile forensics room was filled with people, all onputers and other gadgets. On a table, I saw the neatly wrapped box ced as a man inspected it.

    We walked over.

    "Any clues?" Nash asked immediately.

    "We ran a quick test and confirmed that the blood was the victim''s," he said quickly. He looked up at us and smiled. "We got two distinct fingerprints, too."

    I held my breath.

    "We have one set from the primary suspect and another partial print from someone else." He showed us the prints on the screen.

    "Could you tell us about the cement?" I asked politely. He looked at me strangely butplied.

    "We have solid four fingerprints on the handle," he said, showing me the ones that he had taken. "And two partial prints at the tip of the handle here."

    I took note of this and nodded. "The predominant one is McCain''s. So he was the one who stabbed and the other person took it from him and tried to get rid of it," I analyzed.

    "You can say that by looking at prints?" the man asked.

    "I use my imagination," I responded pleasantly.

    "And what about the second one? Do we have any matches on the database for it?" Sebastian cut in immediately.

    "We looked through the criminal database and found no matches," he shrugged.

    "There is a record of all public prosecutors in ce, right? They passed aw about this around 2009, right?" I asked.

    The man blinked. "They did." He turned to the system and put it through checks. "it will take fifteen minutes for this to process. Our department still doesn''t have the hi-tech stuff that finds matches quickly," he sighed.

    "Thank you for amodating us!" I told him anyway. "What about the box? Is there anything particr about it?"

    He shook his head. "The ribbon is generic, no brand one that you can buy in any shop. The box is generic as is the fabric under the knife. We even looked at the clear tape they used to hold the box together. Nothing. Not even a speck of dust or partial print."

    "And the edges of the tape? Where they cut with scissors or torn by the teeth?" Nash asked quickly.

    "Sliced through with inhuman precision. Like a robot was used. I have never seen someone pack anything like this it''s so perfect."

    I could see Sebastian purse his lips. He leaned down, nting his face close to the box.

    "What are you doing?" the man asked.

    "Smelling it," Sebastian answered simply. I raised my brow but waited for him. He turned to us with a grimace. "The guy sanitized and dehumidified the whole box." He broke out into unamused but surprised chuckles.

    "That level of precision" I trailed off.

    "He erased anything that could lead to him," Nash said in disbelief.

    "I''ve never heard of anyone doing that to get rid of the evidence. This person knows about microbial recognition," the forensics guy stated.

    "Microbial recognition?" I asked, confused.

    "Yes. Basically, we can extract the bacterial deposit on an object and detect the person who is the prime suspect. It is a new technique we are using to confirm criminals."

    "I don''t understand" I whispered.

    "So, when we breathe onto something, we leave traces of ourselves behind. Our breathes do not have DNA, but they do expel bacteria and microbes into the air. So, if you breathe on something and we extract that information, we can use that as an imprint to confirm who it was."

    "Seems like a stretch," I admitted.

    "Yes. Very rarely used but it''s a thing," the man said. "But this guy seems to know something."

    "Thanks!" Nash spoke up. "We''ll talk to the officer who brought the box in, too." He tapped his finger on the desk. We waited around for fifteen minutes and behold. The result was out.

    Partial prints were hard to pin down, but when you get a match with Collins, it wasn''t something you discard.

    "Write up a report and send it to us. We will issue a warrant for the arrest of McCain and Collins," Nash spoke in an excited rush.

    "What are you nning on pinning on them?" Sebastian asked curiously.

    "nned murder, destruction of the crime scene, obstruction of justice, and viting his restraining order for McCain. Witness intimidation, withholding information, falsifying reports, and tampering with evidence for Collins." I had never seen such a big smile on Nash''s face.

    "You''re enjoying this too much," Sebastian said, his eyes wide. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." He huffed.

    "You are already on my bad side," Nash snapped back.

    "Okay, kids, let''s go back. We have a lot of work to do."

    "And we need to call the prosecutor to handle this, too," Nash groaned. "They''ll have an excellent time with this double whammy we are sending their way," Nash cheered.

    "Let''s hurry up, then!" I stated. "We''ll wrap this up and I will go home to pack."

    Both of the men paused. "Pack? For what?" Nash inquired.

    "You forgot? You already signed my leave!" I eximed. Nash looked confused.

    "She has that conference, remember? She''s attending with Dr. Singh," Sebastian reminded. "You''re leaving the day after tomorrow the case wrapped up just in time," hemented, sounding proud.

    "I didn''t have much to do with that," I admitted.

    "Anyway what do you think about the box-sender?" I asked both of them.

    "He obviously knows the criminal procedure. This is just further proof. He has a connection within the police or is an officer himself. And he is thorough," Nash analyzed.

    "I''ll add that he is jittery about being perfect. He doesn''t want any mistakes. Not only in his criminal endeavors but also in his personal life."

    "But we could write that off by saying he wanted no trace that could lead back to him," I interjected.

    Sebastian shook his head. "Microbial identification is too new to be used. Especially on an unknown target. If we had a suspect, it was still usable but not like this." He scrubbed his face. "Moreover, he is not obsessivepulsive. He sanitized the box after doing everything. He wouldn''t think he was dirty and it wouldn''t matter if the box was already out of his hand. Therefore, he has the need to be perfect."

    "Like someone demanded of it from him before?" Nash supplied. "Maybe a caregiver who was hard on him and he developed the need to never make mistakes."

    My eyes shed. "That''s leading us somewhere, isn''t it?" I offered. "Now, we need to see how it got to the station." I just hoped that it would be as easy as I hoped that it would be.

 Chapter 136: Already in the Landfill

    Chapter 136: Already in the Landfill

    "The prosecutor has been called and I have handed over the evidence to him," Nash perked up from his seat.

    "Did he sound happy?" I asked ndly as I rolled around in my chair.

    "Extremely. Collins made his life hell in a past case and he was jumping with joy with the thorough detective work we did," Nash sounded so proud of himself. I rolled my eyes.

    "I''ll go talk to the officer who brought in the box," I sighed. I moved out of my chair and went to the staff room. I found the guyughing alongside others and called for him.

    "Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you some questions?" I prompted as I neared him.

    He looked between me and the group of his colleagues before nodding. "Let''s go somewhere else, shall we?" he said softly.

    "Don''t want the others to know you brought in a bloody box into my room without making sure what it was?" I asked without much emotion. It was protocol to check iing items thoroughly, especially ones that didn''te from inte stores or the like.

    Too many cases of threatening letters from people to detectives and officers had made it a rule.

    "I am sorry about that. I thought it was something Mr. Butler sent you," he said in a small voice.

    "Ah, so the news has traveled." I smiled a small smile. That seemed to put the guy at ease.

    "Yes. We didn''t think Mr. Butler was interested in women, or that you were taken. Some of us were vying for your attention. Now I know why you didn''t even understand when we tried to flirt." He scratched his head guiltily.

    "That''s probably why all of you found out about my rtionship in the first ce. Apologies on my side, though I am quite slow when ites to signals made in my direction." He looked at me strangely. "Besides thinking about Mr. Butler as a caveman who essentially marked his territory, let''s talk about how you got the box, shall we?"

    The guy blinked. "Well, the mail was on the front desk and I saw your name and brought it in. No one had checked it before, I presume. I just saw your name and brought it in." He scratched his head once again.

    "Did you see anyone put it on the desk or otherwise?" he shook his head.

    "It was in the pile of letters and deliveries, so I didn''t think much of it. No one seemed to have touched it, though." He shrugged.

    "Did you see anyone watching you take the box away?" I asked. That was a logical question. The culprit would want to wait around and see if his gift reached the target, right?

    "No one in particr." He looked thoroughly confused. Before any rumors started spreading, I had to stop them.

    "Thank you for talking to me. I don''t think I need to ask you not to speak about this matter to anyone. It''s part of an ongoing investigation and talking about it will cause us problems." I quirked my brow, waiting for him to acknowledge that he understood.

    He nodded quickly.

    "Again, thank you." I shook his hand and walked away.

    I headed towards the front desk and saw the guy at the reception. "Hey!" I chirped, cing my elbow on the desk.

    He looked up at me and blinked in confusion. "Miss Lewis. Can I help you with something?"

    "I was going to inquire about a package," I said quickly.

    "Oh. Did you not get a parcel or something of the sort? Or was it a food delivery? Nothing hase in your name as of yet."

    I nodded. "You haven''t noticed any packagese for me?" I asked. He answered truthfully. "I received a package this afternoon with some troubling content and it had no return address. I need to know who left it here. Would you mind pulling out the footage from all of this morning up?" I asked in the politest voice possible.

    In a police station where everyone thought themselves powerful because they were in a uniform, this wasmon courtesy.

    "If you buy me some pizza, I will think about it," he responded in kind.

    I chuckled. "Fine. I''ll order a pizza of your choice for the favor. What say you?" The bribe was made and from the look on his face, I knew that he would take the hook and give me what I needed.

    I got all the footage in the email. And then I saw the delivery guy put the package down. I noted thepany tag on their uniform and called thepany. And then I was on a wild goose chase. All from thefort of my office.

    "Evie, it''s six in the evening. Get off work," Sebastian called from the door.

    I looked up, surprised. "Don''t you have work to do on the BTS Killer case?" I asked in confusion.

    "Yes, I do have a lot of work, but that can wait!" he imed.

    "And what would your reason be?" I asked, unashamed at our flirting in a public space.

    "My girlfriend will be out of the city for a few days and I want to go out on a date with her. Is that so much to ask?" He tilted his head to the side and waited for my retort.

    "I need to get the records of who asked to deliver the package before I can do anything. The trail is fresh and hot and I have to find the source before it cools down."

    "And seeing that your hair is aplete mess, I can gauge that so far your quest for the man behind the deliveries is not going well?" he asked, his smile dropping.

    "No. I used Nash''s batch number to get them to talk and everything. I spoke to the people who made the deliveries in each location."

    Sebastian blinked. "What was the transfer like?" he asked, walking over to my desk and kneeling down beside me.

    "Uh Basically, this guy ordered a bunch of transits from each location across the city. So, there was five delivery personnel that the box changed hands with so far before it reached us."

    "And no fingerprints?" Sebastian asked, bewildered. "That sounds like a convoluted n, too."

    "Of course, he wants to throw us off and make us go on a wild goose chase. But if he has sent us something physical, I can''t just miss the opportunity." I paused and finally thought back to his question. "The package was left in an obscure park South of the City. Footfall is so low that they don''t even have security guards or cameras. The first guy picked up the package from a bench in the park, neatly put it inside a generic Ziplock pack. They were asked to wear gloves and then the parcel went to several locations all around the city before finally reaching here."

    I huffed.

    "And the stic bag? Where is it?" Sebastian asked, getting worried.

    "They were asked to recycle it."

    Sebastian blinked. "And we have no stic recycling bins in the station or within twenty meters of it so" he thought out loud.

    "Thest delivery person threw the stic out a few blocks from the station. Judging the time, the next shift took the garbage around three in the afternoon."

    "It''s already in thendfill."

    "Contaminated and there is no way we will find it," I added.

    "Let''s not get ahead of ourselves or worry about our losses," Sebastian said in that soothing voice of his. "Knowing this guy, he probably didn''t even leave behind any traces on that stic. Have you checked out of numbers yet?" he asked finally.

    I shook my head. "It was one number doing everything. He ordered the deliveries from smaller, localpanies from the phone. It''s out of service now," I told him.

    "He must have paid somehow!"

    Iughed. "Yes. That is what I need to figure out. How did he pay them through inte banking if he was going to go to such a big fuss about not leaving a trace?"

    Sebastian stood up and pulled me along with him.

    "Give the task to someone. They can bring out the name of the person who registered, the owner of the bank ount. Everything, okay?" he pleaded.

    I nodded. "And where are you going to take me, Mr. Butler?" I asked him.

    "It''s a surprise. And I hope you really like it because I worked really hard for it," he pouted.

    "You worked hard for a date?" I squeaked.

    "Some guy gave you a present and now you are running behind him. I am inclined to believe that he is not behind me but you! So, I must catch your attention before this criminal mastermind steals you away!" He grinned, his eyes sparkling and making my heart melt.

    "Okay. I''ll go with you without question," I gave in. He retrieved a piece of cloth from his pocket and dangled it in front of my eye. "What is that?"

    "A blindfold," he said casually. "It''s to protect the surprise. You''re too intelligent to not figure it out if you see the signs."

    "The things I do for you," I groaned. I closed my eyes and let him do what he wished.

 Chapter 137: Just in Time

    Chapter 137: Just in Time

    He led me down the corridor and I heard whispers from around me. "Miss Lewis, have a great night!" someone said. I didn''t grit my teeth or clench up in embarrassment. Instead, Iughed a little.

    "Thank you!" I called back. Mostly, there would be no cases left to interrogate or outsiders in the station at the time, so the mood amongst the officers was light. It was time for most of them to leave, so no one really cared for formality.

    I could even hear some teasing directed towards Sebastian, which he ignored without a thought. It was strange to see more people warm up towards Sebastian than the usual few who condoned his cold and sharp behavior. It was like by association with me, he had be more approachable. Or was it that his gentleness towards me made others think that he was just as human?

    Whatever it was, I was enjoying Sebastian slowly talking to more people.

    He helped me into the car and I frowned. His car usually smelled sterile, but today, it smelled like our apartment. I silently waited as he slid into his side and shut the door.

    As the car drove, I couldn''t help but talk. "When did you prepare all of this?" I whispered. With the blindfold on me, I was almost scared to talk too loudly. My hands were ced on myp and I yed with my fingers, trying to figure out where we were going.

    "I didn''t prepare much," he admitted equally quietly. "I knew you were leaving so I thought about doing something nice." I could hear the excitement in his voice.

    "Judging by the time and the directions you have turned we have already passed by ourplex." I perked my ears up for more noise.

    Sebastian chuckled. "Don''t try so hard," he told me. I felt his hand brush against mine and he slid his fingers through mine. I gasped.

    "Hands on the gear!" I warned quickly and heard him snicker. I felt him ce my hand on the gear and then the warmth of his palm was against the back of mine. "What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously.

    "You don''t darkness and being restrained, but I am a romantic fool," he exined. I remained quiet, waiting for further exnation. "So, I have to hold your hand and drive at the same time. Am I not the best boyfriend there is?" he whispered.

    I bit my lip as I tried to press back my smile.

    "I can''t determine if you are a narcissist or understanding boyfriend," I mocked.

    "Well, I will take both," he quipped back.

    "But where are we going?" I asked, delight and excitement in my tone.

    "Somewhere where I can take advantage of you," Sebastian replied. His voice was as smooth as honey and I was astounded by his forwardness. "Scared?" he asked. I knew that he was joking. If I wasn''tfortable, he wouldn''t even breathe in the same air as me, that was Sebastian.

    "You can take me anywhere, anytime," I responded.

    I heard his breath hitch and I could imagine a wide grin spreading across his gorgeous face. Finally, he rolled the windows down and I smelled dirt road and forest on either side of us. I wanted to look around, anticipation growing as I tried to figure out where he was taking me.

    If it were anyone else, I would presume they would kill me and leave my body in the forest.

    A light cloud of dust surrounded us as he stopped and the silent serenity of the forest was all I could hear.

    I heard him unbuckle his seatbelt and gently put my hand back in myp.

    "Are you going somewhere?" I asked curiously.

    "I''ll just be back in five to ten minutes," he told me softly. "Don''t open your blindfold, okay?" he made me promise.

    "Okay," I said in a confused voice. He rolled up all the windows, put on some low music, and patted my hair.

    "Be good. I will be right back." With that, he slid out of the car. I heard him open the backdoor and shuffle behind and knew that he was taking something with him. He left and I heard the beep of the lock being activated.

    I shuddered as I released a breath.

    The music did little to soothe my nerves. The sounds from outside magnified a thousandfold and I felt my hand get mmy. I sucked in a deep breath and started to count in my head.

    He''d be back soon. I couldn''t open the blindfold. I couldn''t ruin the surprise he had worked so hard to bring to life. Despite all the work thrown at him, he had taken care of me like a ve without demanding anything in return. He had practically been a hermit while he lived in my house and slept in the same bed as me. He hadn''t even tried to touch me without her explicit permission.

    I heard the crackling of twigs and stiffened. But then I heard the footsteps approaching the car once again. I slumped and heaved a sigh of relief.

    I knew him: I knew the sounds he made as he moved around our apartment, the way he touched the pots and pans on tapped his finger against the table as he thought hard about something. I knew the words he would use and the way his brows would scrunch up when he was in deep thought. I also knew the sound of his breaths and his footsteps as he approached me. Always approached me.

    The car unlocked and my side of the door retched open. I turned my head towards him and smiled a small smile.

    "I didn''t take too long, did I?" he asked. He paused for a second before quickly working on the blindfold on my eyes. I could sense his worry as I blinked my eyes open and squinted at him.

    The waves of electricity behind my closed eyelids disappeared and I saw his face for the first time.

    And then there was light: the words suddenly came to my mind. I blinked a few more times.

    "You came just in time," I told him. "Not a second more than ten minutes," I informed him. Because I knew. Because I had counted. But he didn''t need to know that.

    "I think I returned a little earlier than that," he tried to speak lightly. He extended his hand to me, which I took with grace. "Hop down, princess," hemanded.

    "Princess?" I asked curiously.

    "Yes, princess. That''s what I will call you all of today. To show my appreciation." He leaned in and pressed his lip against my cool cheek. "You need to be treated like a princess once in a while."

    I hopped down from the car and squeezed his hand.

    "We''re going for a walk in the forest?" I asked with excitement.

    "Something like that?" he said shortly. He looked down at my feet with relief. "It''s a short hike, your shoes will do well!"

    "I am Miss Practical, didn''t you know?"

    We chatted for the next few minutes, traversing through the narrow paths until I could see a clearing in the distance.

    And light seemed toe through it. The sunlight had mostly disappeared and the angry red had given away to a purple and blue. When we broke through the trees, I stopped breathing.

    I turned to him with shock. "You"

    "Do you like it?" He asked casually. He dragged me towards the scene and I was left breathless.

    I nodded enthusiastically. He had decorated the space.

    In the far end, he had hung a white sheet and a screen was projected onto it by the projector. He had hung those battery bulbs around the little opening and spread a nket on the ss. On top of it, all the pillows from his apartment were spread. Soft and warm. She even saw boxes of food and drinks left on a small mat on the nket.

    "This looks amazing," I told him. I didn''t know how else to say it.

    "Then let''s go enjoy a quiet night, shall we?" he grinned.

    As I sat down, I looked around the scene. "How did you find out about this ce?" I asked him after he had poured me a ss of lemonade.

    He paused his action and his eyes flickered to me. "I didn''t bring any alcohol because I need to drive and neither of us really drink. That''s okay, right?" he asked me.

    "It''s perfect!" I reassured him. "Now how did you find this ce?"

    "A few years back we had tob through this forestednd to look for a victim." He coughed. "We found the victim alive in this meadow, living in a small tent with the perpetrator. Well, I remembered from that time." He ran his finger through his hair.

    I took a sip of the lemonade and burst intoughter. "Thank god you didn''t find a dead body here. That would have dampened the ambiance."

    Sebastian shrugged. "Well, almost all ces have seen some sort of death or the other. We can''t be prejudiced against them!" he imed.

    "Indeed, we can''t be prejudiced against ces that have seen tragedy."

 Chapter 138: Unravel my Thoughts

    Chapter 138: Unravel my Thoughts

    [Warning: mild sexual content up ahead.]

    "I even brought a movie," Sebastian chirped after a while.

    "A movie? Something crime rted?" I asked, turning to him. He had taken his ce behind me and I was sitting between his legs as he propped his chin on my shoulder.

    "Romance," he whispered with a hint of amusement.

    "Color me surprised! What made youe up with that?" I asked as I chuckled.

    "I searched on the inte and found fifty best movies to watch on a romantic date and this was the top pick," he informed me. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed some buttons.

    "You turned your cell phone into a remote control?" I asked as I watched curiously.

    "Yup. There are applications that do that. Now I can control all our appliances from my cell phone. Isn''t that fascinating?"

    He pressed y and I turned my head to the screen. "It''s a ck and white movie." That surprised me more than anything. But then I realized what we were watching. "Casanca?" I gasped, shocked.

    "Apparently it is the best romantic movie to exist," he told me.

    "And you have never watched it, have you?" I asked.

    "Of course, not. I found fiction irrelevant before I met you. I''m only indulging in these activities because I want to entertain you." He ced a kiss on my cheek.

    "At the price of your own misery" I trailed off.

    "I am not miserable. I am going to watch you. If I end up loving the movie, it''s just an added bonus."

    "Always the romantic," I teased.

    "Only for you," he retorted.

    My eyes were trained on the movie. And then I felt nothing but Sebastian''s lips on my neck.

    I sucked in a ragged breath. "Bored?" I asked, my voice small. He said something against my skin and I could only feel the vibration of his words. I had to assume that I was right.

    I turned my torso towards him and moaned, encouraging his ravaging mouth by cing my hand behind his head, my own tilting to wee his attentions.

    I had never known I was wanton enough to like his attentions in the middle of the forest.

    His tongue peeked out, tracing along my cor bone, down to where the top of my shirt was.

    "I wonder what it is about the forest that got me riled off," he questioned. "God, I want to be rude."

    "Is it the idea of being in the wild, away from civilization that is revealing the inner beast in you?" I attempted to aid his thought process. "How do you want to be rude?" I asked finally.

    "Take your clothes off," he demanded, low and heady, leaving me breathless. I loved the sound of need in his voice. Roving hands and careful caressing was not new to us. Sebastian had been a gentleman in all of this. Except, we had never done anything radical. Except, he hadn''t looked like this.

    I pushed myself away from him and turned to face him. I could see the worry suddenly evade him and I gave him a smile to reassure him. I was okay.

    "Did you bring another nket?" I asked.

    Sebastian was on his knees, his hands on the nket under us. "Won''t need one," he mumbled, cing his lips against my skin once again. His hands were busy ridding me of my shirt. I guess he felt I was taking too long, and wanted my bare flesh against his.

    He wouldn''t find meining. I had been wondering how long and how teased he needed to be to stop asking me if everything was okay and pounce on me. Not that I didn''t enjoy his concern. But I also like seeing him unrestrained.

    The best way to get over it was to jump into it and desensitize to the situation, right?

    He slowly released the buttons from the front of my nnel shirt, each one like a tease, a torment, making my body heat as each small circle passed through its paired hole.

    His mouth followed the path of my parting shirt, revealing the pale skin beneath. His fingers searched, spreading the fabric. I felt his mouth against the skin of my now-revealed shoulder.

    "What is this strange bra?" he chuckled, his tongueing out to lick me in emphasis.

    "Normal bras dig into my shoulder," I half-moaned, letting my head fall back.

    "And undershirts?" he asked, his head trailing down my chest, his tongue searching for a peak.

    "Hate those. Unnecessary." I pushed my hand behind me and unclipped the bra from over my clothes. It was a party trick. Having done that, my fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, the curls wrapping around my fingers as hevished me.

    God, I loved the feeling of his tongue on my breast, the heat of his breath on my skin.

    He scooted closer to me and then something rustled near us. Sebastian sat up, looking like a groundhog, poling his head out of his hole to check for an impending predator. He searched wide-eyed for a source of the obnoxious honk. He realized the truth fairly quickly.

    "There are no predators in these forests, remember? Only the stuff that will feed on your rotting body." Iughed hysterically. My eyes watered as Sebastian red at me.

    "You think that''s funny, do you?" he asked, narrowing his beautiful green eyes on me with mock menace. I couldn''t help butugh harder.

    "Your face!" I managed to wheeze. Sebastian shut me up by taking his hand and cing it just between my parted legs. I became silent just like that.

    His thumb pressed on my clit through the denim, putting just the right amount of pressure so that the slight pain was enticing.

    "Where did you learn that?" I muttered through a wave of maddening lust. His eyes focused on me, watching my face for the faintest reaction to my movements.

    "Instinct," he said immediately.

    "Or, you have been watching some unsavory things while I am not with you," I counter, knowing his retaliation would be swift and sweet, the torture I was more than willing to endure. With minimal hesitation, Sebastian''s free hand mped down on my breast, his fingers tweaking my nipples.

    I groaned, the painful pressure seeping into me.

    "As much as you want to know. You won''t get the answer," he told me. "Now, lie back," hemanded. And it was an order, one that I would be foolish to ignore. I scurried back, pausing briefly when the movement pulled on my tucked-in shirt. Until finally, I dropped down. He chuckled a bit as I fumbled to release the shirt from the denim, both his hands still working me over.

    He followed me over, his hands like a leash to the parts of me he owned: my heart, my body, my mind.

    And then I realized why he was staring so intently at my face. Even though he never uttered a word of worry, the man was carefully inspecting my micro-expressions to make sure I wasfortable with his actions.

    Only Sebastian butler would use his professional training to pleasure me. Sly man.

    My legs parted. Letting him into the cradle of my body. His hand on my core dug deeper, using the heavy fabric to offer more friction where I wanted him. I didn''t exactly know what I wanted, but he was more than willing to oblige.

    Part of me understood that he couldn''t read my mind. Yet I knew that with the smallest movement of my fingers, he could decipher me clearly. That, he could not only hear my secret demands but feed them to me as if they were his own as well. This man this man only gave me what I wanted.

    His hands left my breast and I let out a soft whimper of protest. He chuckled against my abdomen, my parted shirt leaving him a vast expanse of my skin to explore. Both my hands grasped the sides of my jeans, tugging them free of my body.

    He groaned, revealing his own thoughts when he saw me and ready for him. He looked up at me through hisshed, dark intent and sheer need reflecting back at me.

    I gave him a sultry smirk and bent my knees. Sebastian took my gesture as an invitation and I nearly screamed as he lowered his face.

    "Up. On your elbows," hemanded. I looked at him in confusion. No sooner had I followed his instruction as I nearly screamed. His teeth fought my reddened and slick nub. He bit as a punishment and reward in one. His intent was to surprise me.

    This was the only way he could watch me and unravel my thoughts. He gave me too much credit, thinking that I wouldn''t give him my absolute honest reaction if I predicted his next move.

    "Did you talk to someone?" I asked.

    He didn''t answer me.

 Chapter 139: Marry Me *

    Chapter 139: Marry Me *

    [Warning: Explicit sexual content up ahead. Read at your own risk.]

    I felt three fingers enter me, working me softly and bringing me to the precipice. His mouthtched onto me and I dug my hand in his hair, thrusting my hips up to meet his greedy, hungry lips.

    I swore and paused abruptly, my hands flying to my mouth to stop the string of explicit words to hurl out. Working at the station had made me swear a little more, but I never really said anything in front of Sebastian.

    "Hands off your mouth," he ordered. I widened my eyes and did as he said. He answered with a brand of his own, curling his fingers andpping at the flesh.

    I fell hard and fast, leaving the world behind to bliss. He rode me out for several moments, patiently waiting for me to return. I unscrewed my eyes and looked into his eyes.

    They twinkled with delight as if my pleasure added to his own. Another thing to love about this man, I thought.

    He watched me, a grin that held secrets and dreams, and I gave him my own smirk.

    Adamant to give back, instantly, I scramble to sit up and push him back. I climbed onto hisp, my shirt was forgotten behind me along with my denim. I started on his mouth, returning his passion and authority he had shown me.

    The thing about our rtionship was that it was changing. It morphed into anything we pleased. He could push me to the brink of insanity and fight me to get better, take control and make me submit. Or, I could make him wait patiently as hevished me with attention, bringing me to slow realizations repeatedly. In subtle nces at work and passionate banter at home, our love was true, full of the promise of stolen moments toe, of chaste kisses that spoke of his devotion.

    He gave me butterflies any time he touched me.

    Whatever form of love we showed, it was oursgood or bad, gentle or extreme. It was ours. It''s what kept us tethered together.

    And suddenly, I knew I was going to lose it.

    I didn''t know I was crying until I felt Sebastian''s hands on the side of my face, gently pushing me back so he could see my eyes. I tried to hide it from him.

    What a moment to break down.

    Yet I didn''t have to tell him why there were tears falling down my flushed cheeks, or why my heady movements turned reverent. I didn''t know what the future held for us. Despite his constant reassurances, I didn''t know.

    Everything that had happened, the things that gued us would catch up to us, and we might not be the same forever.

    My first love, the first person I had let protect my life the prospect of losing it all the prospect of utter devastation.

    "Marry me," he whispered, his lips at the shell of my ear. The words stabbed into my ear, raw and fierce.

    "I can''t," I cried, wishing the rejection away with all my being. He knew this answer. I had told him before. We had spoken about this.

    He pushed my head back, leveling me with that defiant,pletely heart-wrenchingly beautiful gaze. "Marry me."

    "Sebastian." His name was spoken like a homage, a whispered prayer to the heavens. It hurt me to deny him. God, I wished I was ready to marry. Was I?

    He kissed me on my lips, keeping my countless excuses and objections inside for the moment. Hey down onto the nket, cradling me in his arms. The hurried abrasiveness from before melted away to passion and the need to just feel.

    His lips brought my skin alight, his hands kept my heart fluttering. I felt him enter me with a slow stroke and I flinched.

    I bit back the movement and waited for him to resume. It felt like the longest time had passed until he started to move.

    Finally, he moved. The depth of his movements as he pushed into me triggered the heat within to build. He was the instrument by which my blood moved, my heart beat faster. Science said that I could survive without him, but science also knew that I would rot from inside if he wasn''t by my side.

    My back arched and I could feel him go deeper than before. It was new. But not enough. It felt like I just couldn''t get close enough.

    His lips were on my chest, his breathing bing disjoint. "Marry me, please."

    Marry me

    He would ask again and again until I said yes. He would say it when I was cooking in the kitchen, or going to bed, or getting on a flight to the opposite side of the world. Even when I was older and teaching students myself he would ask.

    Maybe, when we were apart or on the phone when my tears would flow because my heart hurt and he wasn''t there I would regret not saying yes.

    No. Not maybe. It would hurt.

    I was appropriately dressed for this outing. He had chosen the setting that would suit my clothes the best. Nothing that would require me to wear heels or ufortable clothes. Nothing that would require me to style my hair or put on makeup. He had asked me to marry him in the bare, only flesh and skin and my natural self.

    I could be like others and scoff at his proposal off as him being taken over by passion. But I knew him better. He had nned this meticulously. This was not a stir of the moment confession.

    He had ruminated over it in his head. Possibly written speeches of love and passion but ended up giving me the only thing he really wished for.

    I knew innguage, he could not exin his love for him despite his knowledge and eloquence. Some emotions were spoken little of. The less he told me, the more his love for me was. His reassurances and love showed in the small motions of his hand and the way he pulled me to the other side of the road, putting himself to the onught of cars if they were to break traffic rules.

    Neither of us was young. But though we were older, we made one another giddy. Our passion hadn''t faded, and I doubted that it ever would.

    He took care of me afterward, giving me water to hydrate and food to replenish my energy. As I drank, he chuckled.

    "I''ve failed. The movie is almost over," he told me, his head jerking towards the screen. I nced at it and shrugged.

    "And I still don''t know what the movie is about," I replied.

    "You didn''t watch it? Even the beginning?" he raised his brow curiously.

    "Of course not. Wasn''t it your intent to keep me thoroughly distracted?" He gave me a shy smile, so unlike him. Like I had caught him in the act.

    "When did you n on doing this?" I asked softly. He looked up from his perch, his hand hovering over my discarded shirt.

    "For a long time. Before we were officially a couple," he shrugged.

    "You had no guarantee that we would be together and still nned this?" I asked, bewildered.

    "If you were never interested in me, I would have gifted the ring to you, probablying up with some stupid excuse. I am sure I would have found something or the other to convince you to take it." His eyes held a little sadness like the prospect might have crushed him.

    "Ring?" The shocked me.

    "Yes, the ring arrived a couple of weeks ago," he admitted. "It''s in my pant pocket," he told me.

    He lifted the shirt and tentatively helped me put it on. He even buttoned the shirt and tidied the wrinkles he had helped in making.

    The pant went on next and I watched with fascination.

    "Shouldn''t you be putting on your own clothes first?" I asked.

    He shook his head. "Of course not. You get sick easily, so you are my priority."

    What a foolish man. "Haven''t you learned yet?" my voice was slightly raised. "It''s madness to protect someone else before yourself. If you can''t save yourself first, don''t think about others, okay?" I demanded.

    He chuckled. "Yes, I''ll listen to you." Despite hisughter, I could sense the hint of dejection in his voice.

    There was silence.

    "Can you show me the ring?" I spoke finally, breaking the silence of the forest.

    He looked up and nodded. He pulled out a small box and ced it in front of me. I opened the box and bit my lip to hide my smile.

    This man really knew my taste.

    There were no stones, just a yellow gold metal that featured two rows of hexagons to make the design tasteful but distinctive.

    "Why did you choose this?"

    He grumbled under his breath. "You can wear it any time you want and people still won''t find it gaudy. It''s suitable for work and it weighs little."

    "Good choice." I mulled over what I should say next. "Put it on me," I imed.

    He paused and his head jerked up to meet my eyes, shock evident in his.

    "What are you waiting for? Put it on me." I bit back the smile.

    "You want to wear it?" he said, his voice held confusion. I could see the wheels in his head turn. He thought that I liked the ring but didn''t want to marry him.

    "I''ll reluctantly marry you," I told him. "Not now. Later. In a few years. You will have a long engagement, Dr. Butler."

    The information seemed to process in his brain slowly. It must have been hard to see my expression through the mist in his eyes. And I had to say, his features seemed a bit cloudy to me as well. I blinked, letting my own set trail down my cheeks.

 Chapter 140: Outshine Him

    Chapter 140: Outshine Him

    I sat beside Harshit and read a book for the new course Sebastian would be teaching next semester.

    "What are you reading?" Professor Singh turned to me after the seatbelt sign had dimmed. I turned to him with a smile.

    "Just preparing for Sebastian''s sses. I will be taking more control of them from this semester," I admitted. "He went easy on mest semester, only letting me do the legwork."

    Professor Singh scoffed. "He''s working you to the bone, isn''t he?" he asked with a critical eye. "Just because he put a ring on your finger, he thinks he owns you."

    My head jerked up and I stared at him in shock.

    "What?" he responded calmly. "Did you think I wouldn''t notice? You tried to be inconspicuous about it, but you use your hand in front of me too often."

    I sighed and shook my head. "There is no point hiding such matters from people who have field experience," I grumbled. "But are you sure Sebastian didn''t call and inform you? I highly doubt you would see it if you don''t look out for it," I said suspiciously.

    "Oh, hush. I saw the ring on your finger and figured. There was no way the tyrant Sebastian was going to allow a random ring on your ring finger." He rolled his eyes.

    "But back to the topic on hand. He just proposed and you have changed sides. I would think that you are calling him a tyrant because you are jealous that I will take up more of his time," I teased.

    "Jealous of you?" he scoffed. "I believe he will hog more of your time now that it is his legal right to stick beside you all the time." He chuckled. "Not that he leaves your side often."

    "Working at the station must have been hard for him then. For a man who loves work so much, he must have suffered, being separated from me for long periods of time."

    Professor Singh''s eyes lit up. "Oh! I heard about the little girl you found out. Good work on that!" heplimented.

    "Do you want an interview with her?" I responded.

    Professor Singh nodded. "It would be fantastic if I could speak to her. I applied for a time slot to the rehabilitation center they took her to for the short term. Have you spoken to her yet?" he asked curiously.

    "I was with her through the psychiatrist''s evaluation and all that jazz. I haven''t met her since then. We''ve been kept out of the loop so far." I shrugged.

    Harshit frowned. "You''ve been working on some high-profile cases recently, haven''t you?" he asked.

    I nodded mildly. "My face has been in the newspaper far more than I would like it to be," I bemoaned.

    "Others would kill for the opportunity, but you are cribbing about it," heined right back.

    "I don''t like being treated like a monkey in front of the media. I am not going to answer their wild curiosity about murders. Their need to sensationalize every case makes me want to puke. Soulless bloodsuckers," I seethed.

    "You have a lot of pent-up frustration, don''t you?" He gave me a small smirk.

    "What does that mean?" I asked, horrified by the implication. Destroying Sebastian''s celibacy right before the trip was a bad move. Despite the talks about the psychology of addiction and whatnot, Sebastian used my one day of leave to the fullest.

    Specifics aside, most of my luggage was packed by him.

    "About the media and how cases are handled," he said with a hint of amusement. "What did you think I was speaking about?"

    I didn''t respond.

    "Jokes aside, there is a research fellow position opening at the national institute of criminology and justice, do you want to apply?" he asked.

    I turned to him with wide eyes. "I am already working for Sebastian and interning at the police station," I told him. "I can''t take up more work right now," I admitted.

    "But you would like to get the opportunity, right?" he coaxed.

    "Well, the institute only takes students who hold Masters in Criminology and Criminal Psychology, right?"

    "Andw," he prompted. "But you have enough experience and background to qualify. Add in rmendation letters from Nash, Sebastian, and I, you will breeze through the entrance exams and interviews," he shrugged.

    I shook my head. "I enjoy my work right now," I told him.

    "Yes, but the research fellowship will open up avenues for you to get a Ph.D. Isn''t that what you wanted in the first ce?" he asked.

    "In the future. Right now, I want to learn everything that I can."

    Singh nodded. "Do as you wish. The applications will be open for another month. I don''t see a reason why you shouldn''t apply. You can always decline the offer if you don''t want to work there."

    "I''ll think about it," I said softly. It would be hard to turn down an offer from such a big institute if a call came. I might get in if I got rmendations from three of the brightest minds in the field at the time, but shooting down such an offer? People would chase me with knives.

    Harshit tweaked his paper for the rest of the flight, while I read through the book.

    Once we were settled into the hotel, I called Sebastian.

    "Hey," I greeted. He had picked up within one ring.

    "Settled down?" he asked, his voice gruff.

    "Yeah. I''ll just change and have some food. The inauguration speech is in a few hours," I informed him. "Did you work the whole night after you dropped me at the airport?" I asked. It was a rhetorical question, though. I knew for a fact that he hadn''t slept a wink because of his voice. From the looks of it, not talking to a human had taken a toll on him as well.

    "Yeah. I just had some ideas about the BTS killer case and I was charting everything out ording to time period and behavior." He paused. "You should concentrate on the conference. I''ll tell you what I found after today''s session, okay?"

    I could feel his care through the cellphone.

    "Okay," I agreed slowly. "I finished the first book. I didn''t bring any other book from the course. Would you mind sending me the ebook so that I can read it in my spare time?" I asked.

    "Don''t work so hard. You will have plenty of time to go over the curriculum once you are back," he offered.

    "This is if I stop working at the station when university starts," I told him.

    He chuckled. "I already have the ss schedules with me, so you don''t have to worry about the free days, okay?"

    "Oh? Send it over. Do you have the list of students, too?" I asked.

    "Not yet. They are still applying for the courses as of now. The timetable umtes all my sses three days a week, you can work the other three days at the station and have one day off to yourself. Does that sound good for you?"

    I smiled. "You''re looking out for me an awful lot," I teased mildly.

    "As I should. My career took off years ago, so I don''t need extra hours here and there. You, on the other hand, need all the experience in the world."

    I smiled to myself. "I''ll work really hard to reach you, okay? I won''t let you outshine me," I promised.

    "I don''t outshine you now, either. You have your own ways that I can never replicate," he praised.

    "You''re ttering me a lot today. Do you have an ulterior motive, Mr. Butler?" I asked suspiciously.

    "I just want you toe back safely and quickly. I don''t have an ulterior motive, okay?" he informed me with a hint of frustration.

    "Understood, Mr. Butler. Now, get back to your case and I will get ready for work, okay?" I prompted.

    "Best of luck. I''ll be waiting for you when you return," he whispered. The phone cut off in ssic Sebastian fashion and I smiled at it indistinctly.

    - - - - -

    The call came an hour after the estimated end of that day of the conference.

    "You called right on time," I said with a hint of glee. I was walking out of the hall and the buzz of the people behind me sounded clear to the other side.

    "I estimated how much each speaker would dy," he joked. "In academic fashion. Every conference goes one hour overtime." Iughed alongside him.

    "Any progress on your side?" I asked. From the corner of my side, I saw an older man make his way towards me. Professor Singh took a step forward and started to speak to the mind.

    "Don''t think about my cases, right now. You have to take some rest, okay? You''ve been working day and night for god knows how long. Add in the pressure of therapy and reading study material for the next semester Just treat this as a short vacation," he tried to persuade me.

    "You think too much, okay?" I chuckled.

    "Only looking out for you, Princess," he joked. I heard him turning pages on his side of the phone and became silent.

    "You''re working still. You continue. I think someone is trying to talk to me Harshit is keeping him back for now. Don''t know why," I chuckled.

    "Trying to talk to you?" he sounded confused.

    "Yeah. I''ll check it out. You should get back to work. I''ll call youter tonight. Right before going to sleep, okay?" I whispered. The man had his eyes on me even as he spoke.

    "I miss you," I heard Sebastian say. My breath hitched and I looked for words.

    "You''ve had time to miss me?" I asked in response.

    "I can think about multiple things while I work, princess. Don''t underestimate me," he mock growled. Iughed.

    "Okay, genius. I''ll hang up now. I need to talk to this guy. He is getting impatient," I said. I cut the phone without another word and walked over to him.

 Chapter 141: Going Off on Tangents

    Chapter 141: Going Off on Tangents

    I walked over to the elderly gentleman. From up close, he looked familiar. Very familiar. I was not someone who forgot faces, and this was one I vaguely knew but couldn''t ce.

    "I think you are looking for me?" I asked softly. The man looked relieved and nodded.

    "I was. I saw you and recognized you immediately." He tried to give me a smile but it looked more like a grimace.

    "I have a vague recognition of your face but I don''t recall who you are. Have we met before?" I asked. I nced towards Harshit and saw that he was tense about something. Probably not a good connection between these two people.

    "Evie, let me introduce you to Ross Reynolds. He was Sebastian''s mentor about seven years ago," he said in a low voice. Harshit scrutinized my emotions carefully.

    I blocked any emotion from appearing on my face.

    "Ah, yes. I remember now. You took up the Elegant Butcher case after my father was killed." I offered him a polite smile, one that he didn''t deserve. "Pardon me for not remembering you. Thest time I met you, I wasn''t in the best of mental conditions."

    He frowned. "Ah, yes the interview."

    "The interrogation," I corrected. Harshit startled. He hadn''t expected me to talk so freely. "You interrogated me and used me of helping Alicia Williams in her murder spree. Before that, you spoke to the media and convinced your team that I had ughtered my whole family in cold blood and then run away from home."

    "I am sorry about that."

    "You also wrote a book about the case, I have been told. I haven''t read it because you contributed little to the killer being caught or the victims being rescued." I tilted my head to inspect his expression. "But I also know that you have been riding on that fame for some time. I didn''t know you would be at this conference, though. Did you change your specialization?"

    He kept staring at me, stunned from the onught. "Oh, no. I was always interested in this sphere. I am giving the primary speech tomorrow, so I came to check out the papers presented today." He paused. "I hear that you have been interning with the police and also working under Sebastian"

    "You have received the correct information."

    He nodded, satisfied that I wasn''t attacking him. "Your father would be proud."

    "I know." I didn''t offer him more. "Why are you seeking me out?" I asked bluntly.

    "I think we need to sit down and speak for a while to exin why I acted the way I did."

    I sighed. "Is this important?" I asked.

    "Evie, let''s hear him out," Harshit spoke softly. "You need some closure on this."

    Closure? What good would that do to me? I had alreadye to terms with the event.

    "Okay. Let''s go to the hotel''s caf and speak. I don''t have much time on my hands because I have to work." I walked past them and heard Harshit sigh in relief.

    The elderly gentlemen followed.

    He sat opposite me and looked down at the table until our drinks arrived.

    "Please speak," I said finally.

    He thought about how he should start for a minute before doing anything.

    "Your dad and I were rivals back in the day. When we reached your ce, I was the one who inspected the area. No outside fingerprints or even footprints or dust were there in the house when we arrived. And with you missing and none of your blood spilled, we assumed you had run away."

    I shook my head in disbelief. "A sixteen-year-old that killed her family and ran away. What motive?" I scoffed.

    "We see a lot of cases like this, I will have you know."

    I rolled my eyes. "I have been working for a while, too, and I assure you that your judgment is impaired. You probably didn''t want to think that my father was close to solving the case and someone was trying to stop them."

    I shook my head.

    "Well, his letters always came to the post-office and his face was nowhere on the news. No one knew what Charlie looked like, let alone where he lived."

    "But someone did!"

    "Yes. Because he was working on such a high-profile case, all his information was ssified. There was no way someone would know who he was."

    I frowned. "Did she tail him home?" I wondered. But then someone would catch her there.

    "That''s why we were puzzled and I thought you did it. I apologize for my presumption. I should have done my job better and made sure that you were found earlier. The things that happened to you are irreversible and I wish it never it."

    "You didn''t think the same when you interrogated me. Why was that? By then, you should have been sure that I was indeed kidnapped and tortured."

    He pursed his lips. "We had figured out that someone was aiding Alicia. The finding remained confidential. Only I and a few of the higher authorities knew about this."

    "Sebastian never mentioned that was a possibility!" I eximed. I trusted him more than anyone.

    "Because he was not privy to the information. We didn''t put out the notice that the location of a detective was leaked by someone. We had no idea what it could be and we needed to bury the whole idea and satiate anyone who even thought that there was an aplice."

    I shook my head. "So, you wanted to use me as a scapegoat?" I was incredulous more than anything. I couldn''t even be angry.

    "I am sorry, it was a decision taken by a group of people who wanted the police''s faults out of the news. You were clear in your responses, so we buried all evidence that someone else could have been involved."

    I blinked. "What was the proof you had about this aplice existing?" I didn''t trust the man one bit. He could be lying to quench his guilty conscience.

    "Alicia kidnapped people from all walks of life, including a family. She abducted them in the evening while they were in a family dinner."

    I felt my heart clench with worry and a hint of understanding.

    "Someone or the other would have been killed at the scene. But all of them were in the same room, having dinner when they were taken. No evidence was left behind. There was a fight, but no signs of people. No footage from cameras. No prints. Nothing."

    I rubbed my eyes. "So, you suppose someone aided her in capturing the family without killing any of them and helped her bring them back to theirir." He nodded. "She would have to knock them out and then drag them out. If you are talking about the Wilkins then the husband was home from his conscription in the army. Not easy to take down."

    "Do you see?" he pleaded for my understanding.

    "What else?"

    "The unnaturally sanitary conditions of the crime-scenes."

    I closed my eyes and thought about it. "Theck of evidence is what you required to prove that someone was aiding her. And have you asked her about this?" I countered.

    "Yes, in undocumented interviews with her, I interrogated her multiple times to get the answer out from her. She didn''t even budge."

    I tapped my finger against the table. "I am not going to trust you. You have shown nothing but ipetence in your work and I can''t put faith in your instincts. Therefore, you will need to tell me exactly how she responded. I will go through the files once more and jog my memory to see if there was someone who could have aided her."

    "You might not have seen the person to begin with!" Harshit eximed. "Jog your memory? You''ll relive your traumas to solve a puzzle?"

    I shrugged. "That''s one of my purposes. To find answers to questions unsolved. If someone had an equal hand in making my life hell, I want to know who it was and why they did it. I need to face them and get the truth out of them. I won''t have it any other way."

    Harshit shook his head. "If you think Sebastian will let you do it"

    "Sebastian will. He will be right beside me helping me through it, I promise you." I gritted my teeth. "Now, you speak."

    The guy looked between Harshit and me before starting to speak once more.

    "She would ignore the conversation altogether."

    I blinked. "Anything else you noticed?" I leaned forward to take on an aggressive role.

    His breathing grew harsher. "She liked to y with the interrogators. You couldn''t get out any straight answers and she would go off on these long tangents about nothing and everything and it fucked with people''s minds."

    "And you didn''t think someone with better skills could have been brought in?" I snorted.

    "I was the best at the time," he said defensively.

    "Sure." I paused. "So what was it that you wanted to tell me? You''ve gone off on tangents and told me nothing but excuses for your behavior." I ramped up the pressure.

    "I I did you wrong. I shouldn''t have gone along with the ns of others and done my job properly."

    There was silence and Harshit gaped.

    "And that, sir, is how you conduct an interrogation," I said finally. I pushed the chair back as I stood up. "I''ll go back to the room. I have work to finish."

 Chapter 142: The Demon Behind Me

    Chapter 142: The Demon Behind Me

    I stomped around my room, trying topose my thoughts when the phone rang again. I swooped down to the bed and swiped up the phone. It was Sebastian.

    "Hi," I whispered, almost breathless.

    "What''s wrong?" he asked immediately. "Why do you sound like that?" I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

    "I ran up the stairs," I said finally. And I had. I was wondering if I should tell him why I had done it though.

    "Sounds counterproductive unless you are trying to increase your physical fitness. Who was trying to talk to you and why did they affect you like this?" Sebastian, always cutting out the bullshit and getting to the point.

    I sighed before plopping down on the bed. "It was Ross Reynolds." There was silence on the other side.

    "I thought he died," Sebastian said casually.

    "No, he is alive and kicking. And still an asshole of epic proportions," I swore.

    "I understand why you have such a violent reaction. What did he want to tell you?" He seemed to have an idea that it wasn''t a simple greeting.

    "He tried to make excuses about why it took seven months for me to be rescued and why I had to be the one who solved the case and not the police." I scoffed.

    "He came to apologize, then," he added. He paused for a second, thinking about what to say next. "People in power don''t like to be in situations where their power is taken away from them. Ross was all high and mighty, so saying that he made mistakes would be hard on him."

    I broke out into a humorless chuckle. "I know that. That''s not what pissed me off."

    "What else did he say?" he asked cautiously.

    "He said that there was someone helping Alicia on her murder spree and they never found any clue about him. The police wanted to bury their failures and that''s why they were trying to pin some me on me." I grew silent after that.

    "And I never knew about this? Is he kidding?" He was incredulous.

    "He gave some instances. About the precision of the murders and theck of evidence." I sighed.

    "I have the case files." I heard him push off the surface he was sitting in. "Wait, I''ll get the files and look through it."

    "No!" I said quickly. "You have so much work on your te right now. Don''t worry about it right now. I''ll take the flightte tomorrow night. The ne willnd the day after, so I''lle home and pick up my things before work."

    He groaned. "I''ll pick you up," he offered.

    "Sebastian, catch some sleep. Please."

    "I" and he stopped midsentence.

    "What is it?"I asked with a sense of urgency.

    "I think I have a lead. The conversation with you really helped."

    I blinked. "Happy to be of help?" The words came out more as a question. "Anything you can tell me?"

    "No. Nothing. I got some emails from a government official saying that I couldn''t speak about it anymore."

    That was strange. "It did cause a media frenzy and the government and police were scrambling to make people feel safe. Probably trying not to protect the people from feeling insecure."

    Sebastian hummed. "I''ll call you at night, okay?"

    And he did. We spoke about nothing and everything until I felt my eyes droop. Soon, I was drowning in my dreams. Scenes from my captivity resurfaced in my mind.

    "Evie," I heard in the distance. It was a voice I knew and I tried to wade through the water I was drowning in and towards it.

    "Evie, wake up." His voice was gentle. I moaned as it slipped away from it. Realization slowly seeped in.

    I was dreaming. I was dreaming all of this and I had to wake up. I calmed myself down and looked around the room I was locked in. I needed to find a location where reality frayed and then concentrate enough to jolt my body into consciousness.

    How did I know this? Dr. Knight.

    It took me a while. I don''t know how long but I slowly gained control of my body.

    I blinked my eyes open and squinted in the dark. Beside me, my cell phone was still lit. I turned to it and saw him.

    "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

    "Why didn''t you cut the call?" I asked, my voice cracking. I felt my throat and chest tightening.

    "I was just working and I miss you in bed. Hearing you breathe in the same room wasforting," he admitted. I could sense that he was holding back.

    "How did I get together with such a nice man?" I teased. "Tell me the truth you thought I would fall back into sleep-paralysis or night terrors, didn''t you?" I smiled.

    He looked at me, not giving me a clue. "It''s good that you know how precious I am. Now you can never leave me." He cracked a smile.

    I saw him push his sses up his nose and groaned.

    "Now I really miss you," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

    "Get up. Go to the water heater and heat some water. Slowly sip on it and sit, okay?" Always so bossy.

    I picked the phone up and held it in front of my face as I walked to the refreshment station and started the heater. Ten seconds in, I poured out some water and walked over to the bed. I found a remote and switched on the air conditioner.

    Reducing body heat would help with sleep. And the water would calm me down. I took a small sip and hissed.

    He nced towards me and smirked. "Don''t be impatient," he coaxed softly. I nodded and silently watched him work. He bounced around the room, writing on the whiteboard and shuffling paper.

    I couldn''t even tell him that I wanted to help. I didn''t need Sebastian to be held ountable for spilling government secrets and whatnot.

    The night seeped into morning and I watched him. He didn''t speak and neither did I. We sat infortable silence: me reading a book while he worked on the case.

    When the birds chirped, I sighed and shut the book. "I''m going to talk to Alicia," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

    He looked up and nodded. "I''ll apply for an interview. I''ll take the interview while you listen in." He was not asking for my permission. He was telling me that he was not going to let me ask her questions or remind myself what had really happened.

    "I will talk to her myself," I pressed.

    He shook his head. "You interviewing her will be emotionally motivated. Your training may make you a good interrogator but it doesn''t make you inhuman. You have feelings strong feelings about her and I will not allow you to sink into the darkness to quell your curiosity."

    I gulped. "I can trust you, right?" I asked. Of course, I could. It was a rhetorical question.

    "I am not inhuman, but I will do anything to find the answers to your questions. If there is someone who was aiding her, I will find them and bring them to justice. They will not escape. Do you understand?"

    It sounded like he was willing the universe to go with it. And I finally understood why. He was beating himself up for now getting the answers when the case had happened. I could see the hint of guilt on his face and knew that it was crippling him.

    "You couldn''t have known," I whispered.

    He shook his head. "If there were signs of another person and I missed it. It is my fault."

    I groaned. "You may be a genius but you were also a child at the time. You had barely gotten field experience." I shrugged. "If you were that perfect, I would have never liked you. I like humans, not robots or gods for that matter." I cracked a smile.

    "I''m d you are feeling better," he announced. He looked at the clock and sighed. "It''s time for you to get ready for another day at the conference. I need to get up and get to the station, too."

    "I''ll see you in twenty-four hours, okay?" I murmured. We said our goodbyes and hung up. The rest of the day went about in a blur.

    The next morning, I was stretching beside Harshit on the ne.

    He looked at me and chuckled. "You look excited about something," he said finally.

    "Of course. I am seeing my fianc after two days and I have a new obsession."

    Harshit shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you would be broken and re-traumatized, but it only gave you another thing to obsess over, didn''t it?" he asked.

    "This is the only way to kill my demons. Maybe I was always so afraid and looking over my shoulder because my unconscious mind knew that there was someone out there who had hurt me and was still roaming free on the. And now, I have proof that I wasn''tpletely insane in my paranoia. Now I know that this demon in the shadows exists. If they are human they are tangible and I can defeat them."

 Chapter 143: Always Watching

    Chapter 143: Always Watching

    He scrutinized my expression and grimaced. "I can see the determination. I won''t force you to stop or anything. But I hope you can confide in me if you are having a hard time."

    "I have Sebastian and Dr. Knight for that."

    Harshit smiled sadly. "Dr. Knight is a professional and not your friend. Sebastian is your significant other and you may not be able to tell either of them certain things. But you can talk to me."

    Ah, yes. My friend.

    "I also have Nash," I told him.

    He chuckled. "But he is your supervisor and colleague. If he thinks your judgment will impede the investigation, he will kick you out. You have secrets from everyone in the world, Evie." I rolled my eyes.

    "And that matters because I have no stakes when ites to you?" I blinked. "I take your sses and you offered to write me rmendation letters. That means that I have something to gain from this rtionship and you are on the losing end."

    Harshit mulled over the words carefully. "There is no pure rtionship in the world. But I am the person who you have the least to lose when you are talking about something." He shrugged.

    "I was wondering how Sebastian is such a smooth talker. It seems that people in the field of criminology have a way with words." I red at him.

    - - - - -

    I knocked on the apartment door bright and early. A bleary-eyed Sebastian opened it and his eyes widened when he realized it was me.

    "You''re early!" he cheered and pulled me into a hug.

    "Are you upset?" I chuckled.

    "Of course, not. How, though?"

    I shrugged.

    "The pilot was in a rush to get home, I think. Hended the flight earlier than expected. Everything went smooth so I am home early." I got on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his chin. "Did you sleep well?" I asked softly as my fingers made their way into his hair and massaged his scalp.

    He hummed and leaned in to nuzzle my neck. "Ah, Evie is home," he emphasized. I snickered as his breath tickled the juncture between my shoulder and neck.

    I pulled away and the kiss started out softly.

    "I haven''t brushed my teeth yet," he groaned against my cheek when we pulled away for a second.

    "I haven''t either," I assured lightly. He arched his brow and leaned in once again.

    We heard a cough behind us and grumbling followed. I snickered as we pulled away and Sebastian gave the elderly woman who lived across from me a nd look.

    "You two need to learn some decency," sheined. "I''ll call thepany manager and get them to kick you out for public indecency." She continued to grumble, her arms still full of groceries likest time.

    I bowed my head to hide my smile and made my way to her side.

    "I''ll take those," I offered and pulled the bags off her hand. She looked at me with distaste, but I knew she appreciated the gesture.

    "Youngsters these days are living together without getting married. Having all the fun but not taking any responsibility for your actions." Her voice was low and disgruntled.

    "You don''t need to worry about us living in sin. I already proposed and she epted," Sebastian said from behind us. I turned my head to re at him. He was grinning at me.

    I wondered how long he had been waiting to tell everyone he met about his sess.

    "Good. Finally did the right thing," she said before huffing. "Also, why does everyone give me your mail? I have more mail for you." She squeezed through the door and came out a minuteter as we waited in silence.

    "Sorry. We told everyone who frequents that this is our door, but they keep bothering you," I offered.

    "No one works well these days. Go inside. I won''t give you your mail anymore," she warned and shoved the envelope into my hand.

    I turned it over and saw no return address. Just my name in cursive.

    "Ma''am, do you remember who gave this to you?" I asked cautiously. She turned with a bewildered expression.

    "There are loads of people whoe and go on this floor. How am I supposed to know? This had your name on it so I gave it to you," she said. It was like she was scolding me.

    "Please think carefully. Do you remember when it came?" I asked.

    "What is it?" Sebastian moved forward and ced his hand on my shoulder. I turned to him and showed him the lettering. His eyes widened before he ran back into the room for something.

    "Why? Is this a bad thing?" she asked in confusion.

    I shook my head. "You don''t need to worry about it. It''s just someone I am trying to find who has been sending me presents recently," I kept the exnation short.

    She blinked. "It must have been a face I see regrly," she muttered under her breath. "Was it the delivery guy?" she wondered.

    I tried to think of a way to jog her memory. "Anything about him that stood out to you?"

    Sebastian was back. He was wearing rubber gloves. "Give it to me," hemanded. I looked at him and handed it over without a question.

    He pulled the envelope close to his nose and wrinkled it in distaste. "Sanitizer," he confirmed.

    I jolted and then pushed my hand away from my body.

    The guy knew where I lived.

    "Is there something wrong? Why do people wear gloves while handing out things?" the older woman wondered.

    "The man was wearing gloves?" I jumped on the opportunity immediately. The woman nodded. "Did he look about Sebastian''s age? Or older?"

    "He was young. Didn''t see him properly not a face worth remembering. But I have seen him deliver stuff before."

    I nodded. "Thank you. Would you mind if I asked you a few more questions?" I tried to control my emotion. Sebastian took out a paper-knife and sliced through the top.

    He peered in and I saw his eyes harden. He didn''t say anything and I didn''t ask.

    "Who sent you that?" the woman asked, now mildly scared.

    "Don''t be afraid. He will not hurt you. He''s someone rted to our work," I told her.

    "You work for the police, don''t you?" she asked. "Is this some crazed killer stalking you?" She frowned. We didn''t know how to answer. "Oh! He delivered your food, too"

    Sebastian''s shoulder sank. "He delivered food?" he asked softly.

    "Yes. He wears that red uniform from the restaurant!"

    I blinked. We only ate from one restaurant. And he had delivered this letter himself. Like he was revealing himself to them personally.

    "Thank you. If you remember anything else, would you mind giving me a call? We don''t stay at home much," I confessed.

    She looked worried but nodded still. "I''ll think about it." She stayed around until I gave her my number and then we politely retreated back into the apartment.

    After depositing my luggage in the bedroom, I came back into the living room to find Sebastian sitting on the floor. He had ced stic on the ground and the envelope and its contents wereid out in front of him.

    I could see a picture and walked forward curiously.

    "What does it say?" I asked.

    He didn''t respond and looked down at it. I was towering over him and the letter when I realized what the picture was. The twinkling lights and the forest were familiar. The two figures cuddling and smiling at one another was familiar. If it had been taken by anyone else, I would have smiled at it.

    This demon had been hiding in the forest watching us the whole evening. He''d seen everything.

    I sank to my knees and stared in horror.

    "How did he"

    Sebastian inspected my expression carefully. "Don''t panic." He turned the letter towards me.

    [I thought you would only date me. I feel betrayed. Maybe I should bring forward our meeting.]

    That was what was written in the letter.

    I sucked in a breath.

    "Stop nking out. Analyze," he demanded. He had already figured it out.

    I shook my head to clear it and started to struggle to think properly. "It''s the man in the white shirt. The envelope is made from generic paper and the glue looks to be the same. The script is definitely the same and the style of wording the same, as well."

    I stopped and looked at him.

    "Good. What else? What do you know that is new?" he demanded.

    I closed my eyes shut and let out a small sob. "He''s been following us no me. I was wrong. Completely wrong. He was not after you. He was keeping an eye out on me."

    Sebastian shuddered. "What he said to Carol was about you. The files he provided leading to the Magician cases was his work too."

 Chapter 144: The One and The Same

    Chapter 144: The One and The Same

    I tapped my finger against the ground.

    "Do you think he orchestrated it?" I found myself saying.

    "How so?" he demanded.

    "I just I thought it was strange that I got the tickets on the day of the show. Everyone kept saying how they booked weeks and months in advance and I got two tickets at market price on the day of the show from a third-party seller." I looked at the letters. "He was watching us and somehow knew you were interested. Maybe he wanted to get a closer nce at you and ended up seeing me. And he got interested."

    "Possible. What else?"

    "He thinks we have some sort of romantic connection. I just don''t know how he got this idea." That freaked me out the most.

    "It means that none of us are in harm," Sebastian told me firmly. "Now, we have a clue on our hands. We can find him. He came to our doorstep several times."

    I could see that he was trying to recall his face. "Do you remember how he looked?"

    He nodded vaguely. "Partially. But the restaurant that he worked for they would remember," he assured.

    But the world didn''t stop for us to figure out the mystery. We changed and drove to the office. On the way there, I called the restaurant.

    "Hi, I am one of your customers and was wondering if you could give me information on one of your delivery partners," I spoke softly into the phone. I tried to sound reliable.

    "Information on our delivery person? I''m sorry ma''am, I can''t give you that information. Might I ask what this is about?" The other person said. "I could call the manager if you want."

    I thought about it for a second. "Thank you. Can you please hand the phone to the manager? I need this information urgently." I couldn''t say that this was part of the investigation because we didn''t have solid proof that there was even an aplice in the first ce. Therefore, this I would have to ask about as a civilian.

    I heard whispering on the other side and finally, someone cleared their throat and spoke.

    "Hello?" it was a female.

    "Hi, I am a regr customer of your business. I needed some information about a delivery person who has beening to our house for some time," I repeated.

    She asked for my information and I gave her Sebastian and my name and our address. She went silent for a second.

    "What seems to be the problem?" she asked, more silent than before.

    "I received some weird parcels from him. My neighbor recognized who he was. I was wondering if I could talk to him or have a way to contact him."

    "I apologize if he was rude or made you ufortable." Another pause. "But he quit the job a few days ago. He didn''t even give a notice period and said he was moving away," she exined in a frantic.

    "Please don''t apologize on his behalf. I am not going to hold your establishment ountable for something he did. I just want his information. Can you give me a name, his contact information, and any address that you have on him?" I asked finally.

    "I can give you his name but not the contact information," he said quietly.

    "Right," I agreed. "What is his name?"

    "Uh, his name is Nichs Burton," she said finally.

    I paused. "Are you sure?" I couldn''t help but whisper.

    "Yes. I have his information, too. It checked out, ma''am."

    "Thank you. Thanks a lot. I appreciate your help." I hung up and turned to Sebastian.

    "What''s his name?" Sebastian asked. "But I can see that it is not his real name from your expression." He grew worried.

    "Nichs Burton," I said.

    He sucked in a deep breath. "And she was absolutely sure" he trailed off. "Nichs Burton is dead. He killed himself and we found his body. So, someone is using his identity to contact you." He tapped his finger on the steering wheel.

    "I think we can do something about this," he said finally. "We will submit the letter to forensics, get a report signing off that it is the same person as the McCain case and get a search done it. We can look at all the footage the restaurant has. The traffic cameras. Everything. He will be caught on something or the other."

    I highly doubted it.

    We arrived at the station and made our way in. The greetings were many and everyone seemed to smile at me.

    "How was the conference?" Nash asked me when I entered.

    "It was enlightening," I told him glumly.

    Nash looked puzzled. "It couldn''t have been more enlightening than the information I am about to give you," he prompted.

    "What is it?" I asked, feeling my heart sink. No good news coulde at this point.

    "The phones he used were burner phones. We couldn''t get a hold of any information on who he was. Nothing to track him." He paused. "Now, I know you will ask about the bank ount. You won''t believe who it is!" He didn''t look excited though.

    "Should I take a guess?" I sighed.

    "You''ll be wrong," Nash insisted.

    "I hope so," I grumbled. "Is it someone by the name of Nichs Burton?"

    His eyes widened. "How did you know that?" he asked, confused.

    "He''s dead. He was the only living victim of the Elegant Butcher apart from me. He killed himself recently." Nash''s jaw dropped. "This aplice has been using his identity to hover around me."

    I sat down on my desk. "Wait. You are telling me a dead guy''s bank was used to make transactions and he is someone you know?"

    "Yes, he tried to kill me after I helped the rest escape. I didn''t know this until Sebastian told me about what happened. I have no recollection of those things," I admitted.

    "Then he is definitely targeting you. All those goading clues were meant for you" he was going off into a thought process of his own. "But how did you find out about this?" he asked.

    "Got a letter this morning. It had been dropped off with the elderly woman who lives across from me. There was a letter inside with a picture of Sebastian and me on our date," I informed him.

    "And the date was where? We could know who he is, right?"

    I shook my head. "We were in a location inside the forest. Off the highway. No cameras. The guy hid in the forest and took pictures of us."

    I felt like crying at that point.

    "And he was someone who frequented your house plumber, technician, security guard what was he ying?"

    "He delivered food."

    Nash stopped. "The food Sebastian brought over for breakfast?" he shouted.

    "Yeah. If it was poisoned, we wouldn''t have survived so long. Sebastian thinks he doesn''t want to physically harm any of us."

    "But you don''t think the same," Nash concluded.

    "I feel like he is up to something more sinister. His letter said something about me going out on dates with someone else. Like he thought we were romanticallypatible or would end up together."

    Nash scowled. "I have seen his writing and the style of his work he is not delusional from my assessment. And he is not trying to mislead us. Just evading us from finding out who he is. But he wants to meet you."

    "And he has met me. Seen me from up close and done nothing."

    "He has seen you in the presence of others. But this implies that you have had some sort of interaction with him that would seem like a potential date to him." His analysis was astute.

    "I have never dated before Sebastian. I haven''t even had dinners with men." I shrugged.

    "Okay I need to think about this. No one?" I shook my head.

    "And what happened at the conference? What information did you get?"

    I felt my throat clench once again. "I met Ross Reynolds, the detective who investigated the Elegant Butcher case after my father was killed. He said there was a huge coverup, that there were signs of an aplice helping Alicia with the murders and cleanup. That''s why it was so hard to trace."

    Nash pressed his lips together. "This should be confidential information!" He shook his head. "Okay, I won''t speak about this to anyone. But the aplice we have no idea who it is."

    "But the timing it grates on my nerves," I admitted.

    "Brazen, has inside knowledge on working of crime-rted issues, evades detection, godplex" he was listing out things. "The aplice would have the same modus operandi as the one we are looking at right now. The need to inspire and help budding killers to reveal their true identity."

    I blinked. "Why didn''t I make the connection?" I whispered.

    "Why didn''t you?" he asked incredulously. "Sebastian didn''t see it either?" he whispered.

    "I think I think we were just too overwhelmed with everything."

    Nash tapped his fingers down. "Let''s analyze everything we have and catch this guy, Evie." He looked deeply at me. "And don''t be scared, as your mentor, I will not let anyone harm you."

    I smiled. But both of us knew that I didn''t believe that.

 Chapter 145: Dead End

    Chapter 145: Dead End

    The week passed with Nash and I running around to get permission to gid into this mystery aplice who had sent us the murder weapon. The prosecution had been really helpful in this matter because they wanted to answer any and all questions the defense attorneys came up with.

    We really didn''t want the murder weapon, a crucial piece of evidence to be ruled out because it had appeared under suspicious circumstances. But we were not allowed to interview Collins. Hiswyer forbade us from talking to him, which spoke volumes about this aplice.

    He was someone with influence. Even though Collins was going down, he couldn''t rat out the guy who had gone into his house and taken the murder weapon before he could get rid of it.

    Another clue.

    We went to the restaurant and spoke to every employee there was. There was nothing special about this delivery partner despite the fact that he spoke kindly to everyone and always took orders off others'' hands when he had ''little to do.'' Unsurprisingly, one of those deliveries was to my apartment.

    Adding Sebastian and the restaurant employees'' testimonies, we had a vague picture of any man we could see on the road. Average looks, brown eyes, dark brown hair, normal height, normal clothes.

    Normal.

    Normal.

    Normal.

    And that was when it hit me. One night, as I was getting ready for bed, I thought back to every case we could trace back to this mystery aplice.

    And it hit me.

    Grace She ordered a ton of food from restaurants. And if it were any evidence of his actions, this guy liked to get in and out of people''s lives without having them look at him closely.

    And so, we visited her.

    The afternoon we knocked on her house door, it took her fifteen minutes to open. "Hello, I am Evie Marie Lewis," I told her as soon as she peaked out from behind the barely open door. From her hair and shining skin, I could guess that she was engaging in sexual activity with one of her clients in the home.

    I felt a rush of relief that sweet but broken little Carol was not in the picture. I was also enraged that this woman could go on with this life despite her child being taken away from her. Despite the torrid of tears she had shed thest time they saw her.

    "How can I help you?" she asked in a low voice. She nced back to make sure nobody was behind her.

    I squinted. "We have some questions rted to your daughter. May Ie in?" Not that I wanted to go in.

    She blinked and shook her head. Can you give me some time? I need to clean up the mess.

    "I don''t have the time. Please get dressed ande out. We''ll talk slowly so that no one else can hear what we are saying."

    She looked puzzled but nodded. She took exactly two minutes before she rushed out.

    The sun was shining and she still looked disheveled. She reeked of sex and I had to take a step back despite myposure.

    "What questions?" she asked, in a hurry to see me out. "It''s not good for business to be seen with cops."

    "It''s also not good to starve your child and not get them the help they need. d you have your priorities straight," I responded glumly. "Was there any particr delivery person who frequented your house in the months leading up to the deaths of the two boys? Especially after the second child was killed?"

    I tapped my pen on the notepad.

    She looked stunned and shook her head. "We have loads of delivery people who frequent the house but no one stands out."

    I nodded. "Were there any you engaged with sexually?" I asked bluntly.

    She looked offended at first but then her shoulders sank. "Yes, there were a couple. Sometimes I needed to pay for the food and I was short!" she defended.

    "Sure," I supplied without much emotion. "Which of them liked to choke you? Or have your daughter in the room as he did so?"

    She blinked and I saw a sh of recognition in her eyes. "Yes, there was one." She pressed her hand over her mouth. "Was he the person you were looking for?"

    "We are still unsure." I paused. "Why didn''t you tell us about this matter before?" I questioned.

    She shrugged. "You asked about my clients. He was not my client, so I didn''t think it was important. He was really sweet and nave, too. I think I was the first woman he was with and he didn''t particrly like sex. He enjoyed choking me more than anything. That got him going," she exined. Her lips hooked up into a small smile.

    "And you enjoyed hispany?" I asked, pressing for more information.

    She nodded. "Despite his preferences, he was very gentle otherwise. He had warm eyes and always had a smile. He wasn''t all abouting in and banging. He hung around to make sure I wasfortable, too."

    I blinked. Okay. So,ck of interest in sex, but definitely had a fancy for sadistic and bondage-rted activity. Possible aversion to sex or apathy.

    But this woman had seen him naked. Surely, she would know more.

    "Do you remember any features of his that stood out to you? Any marks on his body or the way he moved. Anything out of the ordinary?"

    She thought about it for a moment. "He always wore a cap. It looked old but he always kept it safely away before taking off his clothes. Never left it unattended. Looked important."

    I filled with hope. "Anything distinctive?"

    "Just a green hat with a logo. I think it was from that football team." Oh.

    "If you remember anything, give me a call. We''re looking for tips on this man." I got the name of the restaurant and everything but nothing much came from it.

    The CCTV footage of him was all blurry and you couldn''t make out a single thing about his features. The cap was always in the way and his clothes and walk and everything was so normal that we couldn''t follow him. He didn''t have a car. He used the vehicles given to him by the restaurants and that was that.

    He blended into the crowd like a phantom.

    Dead end.

    But we didn''t stop looking. Nash kept looking for caps that matched the description. He tried to find something anything in hopes that it was an important clue.

    "It''s a personal treasure," I told him. "It doesn''t need to be expensive," I groaned. "Maybe it signifies something emotional like maybe he has a family member or friend who gave it to him Or they went to watch the sport together."

    Nash banged his hand on the table. "Usually, guys go with older siblings or their father to football games, right? So, an attachment to his father. Apathy towards sex, so possible abuse?"

    "I don''t know about abuse, though," I grumbled.

    We had more clues about his personality. But nothing to find out who he was.

    "We have to find some clue to make sense of this!" Nash was irritated.

    "Tell the prosecutor that we will keep trying until we find something." I groaned.

    The thing about celebrity cases was that the courts rushed to get a conviction or acquittal. With the prosecution going hard on McCain and his hicalwyer Collins, the hearing was pushed forward by months.

    After merely a week of the confession, the judges sitting in the podium were not as enthusiastic about the hearing.

    I wasn''t called on the first day. The second day, I was called in. Thewyer representing McCain was an employee of Collins'' firm and therefore, I expected them to use the same tricks as his boss.

    The prosecutor was the first to question me.

    Nash had not been with me at the time and I had interviewed the family, the son, and the perpetrator, so I was their best bet to give a faithful narrative.

    I was seated on the witness stand and made to take the oath, which I did without reserve.

    "Can you state your name, please?" the Prosecutor asked.

    "My name is Evie Marie Lewis," I said firmly. I was made to spell out my name for the court journalists for record and I did so.

    "Can you give me an introduction to yourself and your credentials, please?" he asked. The man''s voice was soothing.

    "I have a post-graduate degree in foreignnguages and linguistics from the University of W, specializing in the game of interaction and pain. Thereafter, I worked as the assistant to Sebastian Butler, Associate Professor of Criminology and Justice, at the University of W. He acts as a consultant for the federal investigation bureau and city police. I obtained an internship at the city police headquarters and have been working under Detective Seth Nash, Head of Behavioral Studies.I have also been extended a permanent position in the department as of one month ago."

    The exnation was long but my reditations seemed sufficient.

    "Can you tell us about the number of cases you have handled in partnership with Detective Nash?" he probed.

    "I have handled over thirty-five active cases in the three months of my employment and can boast of a hundred percent solving rate as of this moment," I added thest part.

    "Impressive."

    I nodded in acknowledgment.

    "Were you the one who interviewed Mr. McCain?"

    I leaned into the microphone. "Yes, I was the one who interviewed Mr. McCain after he was called to the station for questioning."

 Chapter 146: Incriminating Evidence

    Chapter 146: Incriminating Evidence

    "What was your role in this investigation?" the prosecutor asked.

    "I was the on-call personnel the evening she was murdered. I was called in to assist patrol when a passerby reported a dispute in the victim''s house. At that point, we didn''t think much of it and entered the house and found the victim on her bed with a stab wound. She was bleeding out from the wound and ced on her side." My exnation was to the point like Nash had taught me beforeing here.

    "And why did the nature of the investigation change?" Well, why do you think? I wanted to ask. But this was a courtroom and everything needed to be spelled out for the world to hear.

    "Well, we found out that the victim was stabbed and there was no sign of forced entry. The weapon was missing and the victim''s son had witnessed the crime taking ce." Ah, all the factsid out.

    "Objection your honor!" the defendingwyer chimed. I turned to look at him and wondered why he was interrupting. "The witness is very young, your honor, and not presented to the court."

    The judge looked ndly at thewyer and then nodded.

    "Continue," he sighed.

    The prosecutor resumed. He turned to me with another question, "And what did you do then?"

    "I notified my mentor, Detective Nash and we brought in additional resources to solve the case quickly. It went from our department initially to the whole agency," I admitted. The case was big and the pressure from higher authorities had been great because of the media exposure.

    "So, you were the first person to interview Mr. McCain, is that correct? Can you tell us how he came off to you?" I recalled his charming but nonchnt attitude.

    "He seemed nonchnt in the beginning. He wanted to know why he was there, he wanted to help in any way that he could. He basically didn''t know much. He tried to charm everyone he came across and smiled at me for most of the meeting until he felt like I suspected him."

    The prosecutor nodded. "And you took his DNA and footprint to match with the evidence you had acquired?"

    "Yes, ording to the protocol, we took the necessary samples."

    "Your honor, we have submitted them as evidence" and he prattled on about the article and what not and I gazed between the judge and the prosecutor. From the corner of my eye, I could see McCain leaning against his chair. He looked too calm. Like he thought he would get away with everything. I didn''t like the feeling one bit.

    "Did you take samples from everyone else who had been in the house, as well?"

    "Yes. ording to the procedure, we took the prints from all the officers present, Maya''s son, and her parents." Again, the documents were handed over.

    "Can you tell us what made you think Mr. McCain was the perpetrator?" Ah, to the main question!

    "Firstly, Maya''s son told us that Mr. McCain had been in the house and there was an argument. Secondly, the shoe print found on the backyard was from a distinctive limited-edition shoe which costs upwards of a hundred thousand dors." My exnation was concise. I saw the defensewyer scribble something down and made note of this at the back of my head. This would be a point of questionter on.

    "And what did this imply to you?" the prosecutor quirked his brow.

    "Objection your honor. Leading question!" thewyer interrupted.

    "Sustained," the judge spoke. He looked reluctant though.

    "Let me rephrase that. Why was the shoe important in you bing suspicious?" he said, offering me a small smile.

    "It implied that the perpetrator had a huge amount of money that they could spend on collecting luxury items."

    "But why did this point towards the defendant?" the prosecutor questioned, dubiously. He yed the sarcastic and stupid role very well in that case.

    "We matched the list of buyers from thepany involved, and Mr. McCain was on the list. Adding the testimony from his son into the mix, we suspected that he was responsible." Dust it off. We had done everything ording to the procedure because of Collin and his slimy ways. We had left no stone unturned.

    "And you called him in for a second interview. Seth Nash sat in on the interrogation. Is that correct?"

    "Correct."

    "Can you tell us what his demeanor was then?" I found myself smiling.

    "As the interview progressed, there were clear indicators of stress on him and we could tell that he had realized we had reason to believe he had something to do with Maya''s murder," I spoke softly but firmly. I leaned into the microphone so that my voice was easily heard by everyone.

    "During the interview, you were pressing him. At what point did you know he did it?"

    Another interruption.

    "Rephrasing the question: why did you believe Mr. McCain killed Maya?"

    I thought about the answer for a second before speaking. "I had a strong feeling that he had done it when we found the restraining order Maya had filed against him and that he had tried to break it. We knew he owned the same pair of boots. We also found security footage which showed that he had gone to her house that evening when he said that he had remained in his house all day."

    The prosecutor shuffled.

    "Your honor, please look at" More courtroom jargon ensued, but I could see the spark of interest in the judge''s eyes. I then realized that he had believed the prosecution wouldn''t be able to pin the crime down on McCain. This was a game-changer.

    The video of him getting out of his house, the clothes he was wearing, and how they matched up wasid in front of the courtroom for all to see.

    "And how did you bring him to admit that he had indeed gone to see her?"

    "We gave him an out during the interview and made it clear to him with bits of information that only he would know. We saw his movement through traffic cameras and the like. That kind of questions let him know that we had video evidence against him."

    "And what was his response?" This was critical. I had to frame it properly.

    "He was asking for more information. We knew when he came in that he was fishing for information to see how far he could get." This was the truth. He acted all high and mighty like he was the one in power. And we had put him in his ce.

    "Did you know that he was searching for updates on the case on the inte?" the prosecutor asked. I blinked in confusion.

    "No, we did not. I assumed that he was kept informed, though," I said truthfully. I didn''t think my implication was caught by anyone but the police officers who sat at the foot of the courtroom with looks of delight.

    It seemed that the department had taken time toe see her first courtroom interview.

    "Would you have used it against him?"

    "It might have been helpful, but we were focused on setting up the story. We wanted to set up a timeline that he couldn''t dispute." Nash had told me that exining causes for interrogative methods gave us more points and led to fewer questions, so I went in that direction.

    "And did you get any incriminating information from him?"

    "He admitted to going to her house and leaving in a few minutes, but we had video evidence that he had stayed over an hour. We also saw him discard the murder weapon in a residential area," I admitted. "We had footage that he was not in his house like he had imed, either. But met with these, he refused to go along with the questioning and left."

    That was the truth.

    Now, that was incriminating.

    "And you believe, beyond doubt that Mr. McCain killed Maya?"

    "Yes, Mr. McCain killed the victim."

    Silence prevailed.

    "Defence can now cross-examine."

    Thewyer shuffled to his feet and approached Ellis.

    "Miss Lewis, you spoke about your credentials at the beginning of your testimony. May I ask why you migrated from Language studies to crime-solving and detective work?"

    Strange line of questioning, but I was prepared for it. They would try to rip apart my credibility. And no objection from the prosecutor would stop it.

    "As I mentioned, my studies were one interactivenguage and pain studies. I believed my talents fornguages and expression would be a critical tool in solving crimes," I admitted.

    "But what brought the idea to you?"

    "I have always wanted to be in the police force. I took another route, but ended up in the same ce." I shrugged.

    "And why did you want to be in the police?" I pressed my lips together. So, this was where they wanted it to head.

    "My father was a detective and I grew up under his tutge."

    "Your father was Charlie Lewis, correct?"

    "Correct," I said without hesitation.

    "Yes, he solved hundreds of cases and was held in high regard. I believe he was killed by Alicia Williams, the serial killer." I didn''t answer because he hadn''t asked me a question. He waited for something and then recognized where he had gone wrong. "Were you kidnapped and kept captive by Alicia Williams?"

    "Objection. Not rted to the case!" the prosecutor interjected.

    "Sustained." But the information was already out. Not that I cared.

    "Apologies for bringing back bad memories. Miss Lewis, you survived a terrible trauma. How has that impacted your life, both personal and professional?"

 Chapter 147: Extend her Life

    Chapter 147: Extend her Life

    "My experiences have no impact on my work if that is what you are implying," I deadpanned.

    "And how are you sure of that?"

    "I have undergone various physical and psychological tests, on top of the qualifying examination in which I got one of the top scores recorded. I have been deemed fit to perform my duties." And I had evidence to prove it.

    "Would your colleagues and senior feel the same way?" he asked.

    "Yes." I had no doubt.

    Thewyer paused, stunned by my confidence. What did he expect from someone who psychoanalyzed and pressured others to confess? Sometimes, I wondered if Sebastian had rubbed off on me the wrong way and I was bing more narcissistic like him.

    I sometimes really thoughts others were stupid.

    He probably saw my critical expression and tried to get back on track. "But why did you need to get a psychological evaluation? That is now required by the state, is it?"

    I smiled. "No, it is not. But Seth Nash and Sebastian Butler believed that I should get a thorough check-up and submit the results so that no one can question the authenticity of my work in such situations."

    I made sure my voice was matter-of-fact, but I could see the people in the courtroom pressing back theirughter. Even the judge looked amused.

    "And this psychological evaluation said you were fit to perform your duties?" he asked again.

    "They did. The result has been submitted at the beginning of my testimony." I nced towards his desk, where the document was kept. I could see it clearly.

    He cleared his throat.

    "You were one of the first people to find Maya, were you not?" he asked. Now, they were back to the main problem at hand.

    "I was," I admitted freely.

    "What was the scene like?"

    "The rest of the house was silent when we made our way through it. We reached the bedroom and found the victim on her bed, bleeding out. She was turned to her side with a deep stab wound." I blinked, wondering what question they would pose next.

    "And was she alive at the time?" he asked.

    "She was. She was barely breathing and her heartbeat was faint. We had to give her life-saving procedure to keep her alive," I responded.

    "And who performed the procedure?"

    "I did," I said firmly. Thewyer turned to the jury as if to make a point.

    "Why?"

    I inspected his face cautiously. "The emergency medical responders hadn''t arrived and we didn''t have time to wait for them. The victim would have died then and there."

    His eyes glowed with victory. For what I didn''t understand.

    "Did you perform the procedure properly?" he asked, the usation clear in his voice.

    I let out a surprised chuckle. "Yes, I did. I received extensive training."

    "Can you recollect the procedure?" I recalled exactly what I had done, absolutely sure that I had followed the procedure.

    "You didn''t wait for the medical professionals and turned the victim on her back, ced her on the ground and performed CPR, is that correct?"

    I narrowed my eyes. "I don''t appreciate how you phrased that," I said in a low voice.

    "Please answer."

    I sighed. "As I said, I was on call with the medical professional and received amand that I had to perform the procedure to sustain her life."

    "But still, her life was not saved!" he eximed, appealing to the judges. I could feel a headacheing and it was mostly anger. I kept my faceposed and stared at him. "The autopsy showed that she had pooling of blood inside her body from when Miss Lewis ced her on the floor and performed the procedure."

    My eyes widened. That was one way to twist the truth.

    "Do you admit that you performed the procedure and caused her death?"

    I stared at him for a second. The prosecutor jumped in, trying to help.

    "No," I responded. "The procedure did not cause the death. It is a life-saving procedure, you see."

    "And it caused more harm!" he argued.

    "The procedure was performed because her body was shutting down and we couldn''t stand by and watch it happen. We performed CPR because we wanted her to live. If I hadn''t performed CPR, the victim wouldn''t have survived for a few dozen more minutes than she got." My eyes zed with anger.

    "B-"

    I interrupted. "From what you are saying, you are admitting that your client stabbed the victim and saying that it was not your client who killed the victim, but the people who tried to save her!" I announced.

    He tried to stop me, but I was pissed.

    "I should remind you that if the victim wasn''t stabbed and dying, I wouldn''t have had to perform CPR on her. The reason for the victim''s death was the person who stabbed her, not the people who tried their best to save her life."

    There was silence in the room.

    The judge coughed.

    "Miss Lewis, thank you for your monologue, but your actions were against the decorum of the courtroom. We will speak about this matterter." He paused and gave her a pointed look. "Defense, do you have any more questions?"

    The man breathed, still trying to reel from his stance.

    "Miss Lewis, do you often lose control of your emotions and make mistakes? Are you sure you did the procedure correctly and didn''t have an episode?"

    I felt a sharine smile spread across my lips. "I do not lose control. The letters from colleagues about my performance video footage from the cameras on the other officers'' bodies will tell you exactly that."

    He became silent.

    "No further questions."

    The prosecutor sprang into action. "I have some counter questions to ask."

    "Go ahead," the judge ushered him.

    He made his way to me. "Miss Lewis, thank you for being so passionate about your job. I understand your frustration for being used of identally hurting the person you tried to save. You did everything correctly, I assure you. I have gone over the footage myself."

    "Thank you," I replied. I really was grateful.

    "If you hadn''t performed CPR, would the victim have survived the extra few minutes she got?" he asked.

    "No." My answer was decisive.

    "What would have happened if you hadn''t done the procedure?"

    "She would have kept bleeding out, her heart would have slowed down and stoppedpletely." He nodded.

    "And do you think you did your duty?"

    "Yes. My job is not only to investigate after a crime has beenmitted but also to try and save the victims."

    I was not going to allow some scummywyer make me feel guilty for not saving a woman.

    "And if I asked the medical professionals on call, would they think the same?" he asked, to drive the point in.

    "They would. I followed their instructionspletely," I admitted.

    "Thank you. I apologize on behalf of everyone for questioning your ethics and performance."

    I didn''t respond, not feeling like there was a need for it. I simply nodded.

    "No more questions, your honor," he said.

    I was let off the stand and walked away with my head held high.

    Nash was called on the witness stand and he exined everything he heard. The tapes we had viewed and his behavior. The exact members and videos we had. Everything.

    The defense crumbled.

    That was until the child was brought in.

    He was scared and I was thankful that the cameras were not trained on his face.

    He sat with his grandmother, hugging her.

    "How are you doing today?" The prosecutor asked in a pleasant voice. I had expected him to be just as hard but was d that the child wasn''t being treated poorly.

    "Okay," he said in a small voice.

    "Do you remember what happened thest time you saw your mother?"

    The kid frowned. "Mm," he said simply.

    "Was your mother going out?" he asked.

    The child shook his head. "No. We were going to have fun together. At home."

    "We? Who do you mean?"

    "Mom and me," he said softly. He nced towards his father and seeing his expression, burrowed his head into his grandmother''s side.

    "And what happened then?"

    "Um we were having fun and daddy came." He paused. "Dad yelled at Mom and he put her to sleep."

    Silence. It was horrifying to hear the words from a child. He didn''t quite understand what had happened and it was the only boon in the situation.

    "Do you remember how your Dad put your Mom to sleep?"

    He nodded. "He was yelling so I hid." And he proceeded on to saying a horrible tale of exactly what had happened.

    I shuddered.

    "And does your Dad yell a lot?" the prosecutor asked. He was establishing character testimony. I was mildly impressed.

    "Mm. I don''t see him much because he hit Mom and me, and Mom didn''t let hime near us again," he exined.

    "But did hee again?"

    "Mm. He came sometimes. He was sick, too."

    "Sick? How?"

    "He was sick and he smelled and couldn''t walk or talk properly," his voice cracked as if remembering something that had happened.

    Proof of intoxication.

    Check.

 Chapter 148: A Story Untold

    Chapter 148: A Story Untold

    I didn''t have to attend any of the other days of the trial. In the end, McCain was pronounced guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

    Since then, two days had passed and news and media professionals had emailed and called me to get an exclusive interview.

    "Is it like this all the time?" I huffed as I sat down. Nash looked up and grinned.

    "For the big cases? Yeah. Add in the fact that you are a young, beautiful woman who cracked the case the media will go wild trying to make this sensational." Nash clucked his tongue. "Do you want to take the opportunity to be famous for your work?" he teased.

    I rolled my eyes as I opened myputer to check my email.

    "I don''t want to be famous. Or infamous, for that matter. That day in the court told me that being in the spotlight is not my thing. I don''t want to be looked at like an animal in the zoo. Or be torn apart bywyers and media people. That made me feel so disgusted."

    Nash hummed. "Your little outburst really got you into trouble, though," hemented. "Didn''t you get fined for disrupting?" he asked.

    "Yeah, I received the notice in the mail yesterday." I chuckled. "My outburst helped put thatwyer and his insinuation in ce but I got reprimanded for it." I shook my head in disbelief.

    "It''s because you are on the side of thew that they fined you. Thew is like that: it is harder on people who have good track records. They are not expected to make mistakes. While those who are shady they are expected to behave poorly," Nash exined.

    "They also punish repeat vitors badly, don''t they?" I challenged.

    "True," Nash shrugged.

    "Ah, which reminds me. Did the task force give you any information on who that aplice is?" Nash quirked his brow in question.

    "Nothing yet. Even the prosecution wants to know where the murder weapon came from. It''s the only real evidence they have to prove Collins did something wrong."

    I scrolled through my email and found one from the prosecutor. I read it and frowned.

    "They gave Collins a leeway," I began. "The prosecution. They wanted to know who sent that weapon to help us out, but Collins didn''t speak. Apparently, a lot of peoplee and go from his office." I groaned.

    "This aplice is in a position of power, isn''t he?" Nash breathed. "He has enough power to make Collins stop speaking. That vermin would take any deal that would make him go scot-free," Nash exined.

    "Which is why this is so interesting, don''t you think?" I interjected. "But what threat does this guy pose? Is Collins afraid that he will be killed if he lets his identity out? Or is it something financial?"

    I tapped my fingers against the table.

    "Should we ask permission to go through his bank statement to see if someone paid him to keep his mouth shut?" Nash questioned. But then he paused. "But Collins is not someone who values money more than his life. His reputation and his games are more important than the money he gets. That''s why he takes on pro-bono cases, remember?"

    "No use asking for the bank details. He should have a business ount, a personal ount, and loads more. How many transactions do we need to go through? And if we think about how clever this guy is, he wouldn''t have used his own ount or identity in the first ce."

    "Is this going to be another unsolved case, then?" Nashmented.

    "No, it is not. I will not stop until I find this dude," I gritted out through my teeth. "He''s after me. He wants some sort of a rtionship with me a romantic one at that. And I am not going to let him have that sort of power over me. I am not going to let someone threaten me and the people I love."

    I pped my hand against the desk and stood up.

    "Aren''t you on good terms with the prosecutor?" I enquired.

    "I am, why?" Nash was bewildered.

    "I want to talk to Collins. Get the prosecutor to make him meet me. I''ll get something out of him and see who this guy is."

    Nash looked at me with conflict.

    "Isn''t your visit to Alicia Williams alsoing up?" he asked, hesitating.

    "It is," I admitted. "I need to find so many answers."

    "And what will you do at the end of it?" he asked.

    "I will y my demons," I smiled.

    - - - - -

    Collins refused to cooperate or meet Nash or me for questioning. Instead, the prosecution filed to look through his security footage.

    I sighed with relief when I entered the government office and found my way.

    "Here you go," said the prosecutor from the trial.

    "You got assigned this case, too?" I asked.

    "Yeah, because I already knew about the McCain case, they thought I would be their best bet to get a conviction." He shrugged.

    "Have you looked through the tape? Did you find anyone suspicious?" I asked curiously.

    He shook his head. "There was nothing of note. The people he met were all clients and nobody acted suspiciously. How about you look through the footage? You should have a better idea of this matter, right?"

    I nodded. "This person is suspected of association with multiple cases, so we want to find him. I can''t tell you more, of course." I gave him a polite smile.

    "I know all about secrecy withinw enforcement. Lord knows a lot gets missed out because of it. Cleaning up mistakes is a recurring theme, you see" he trailed off.

    Didn''t I know about it

    "Thank you. I''ll let you know if I find the person I am looking for in these videos." I was about to leave when I paused. "Wait, does it have footage of his apartment, too?" I asked.

    "His apartment does have a system, but the memory was corrupted. We couldn''t get any information from it. We do have forensics trying to restore footage, though. Why?" he asked.

    "You never know. Maybe the person who tipped us off was a personal connection," I said.

    "I''ll give you a call if I find something of substance, okay?"

    I bid goodbye and came back to the station.

    By the time I was done with the footage, it was close to midnight. I had wheeled in a ckboard and got some chalk. The rtionship chart had already been made and I was staring at it like a fool.

    It just didn''t fit in.

    I heard the door creak behind me and turned to see Sebastian peering through.

    "Still working?" he asked.

    "Come in. Help me solve this, will you?" I pleaded. "I just can''t make a full profile. It''s all jumbled in my head and I don''t think it is because of my emotional connection to this man."

    He sighed and came in. He looked over the writing on the board and shook his head. "You have all the information you need on the board, don''t you? You just can''t put it together in a story," he imed.

    "Can you see it? Can you tell me?" I asked.

    He sat down beside me on the floor. He pulled my hand into his and then caressed it with his thumb.

    "Male. Age between twenty-five to thirty-five years. Doesn''t hold a permanent nine-to-five job but has enough money to live afortable life. His family life should beplicated with lingering feelings for an older male family member with whom he had a close connection but something happened and they had a falling out. That is why he cherishes the football merchandise and uses it as a shield to hide his identity. He is confident in himself and thinks of himself as the muse who helps people realize their dreams ofmitting crimes, but he also has an acute knowledge of criminal procedure. It is possible that someone from his family was involved in multiple crimes or they work in the justice system. That is how this person gets the confidence to evade the police so well. But his family is also in a position of power."

    I looked at him with utter fascination. "You''re really something else, aren''t you?" I said in wonder.

    "Okay, you add in what you think," he proposed, not letting me out.

    "If it''s a position of power and something to do with crime: it could be organized crime syndicates that run in their family or maybe someone is a politician? High government official," I analyzed. "Ah, did I mention what Nash deduced?"

    Sebastian blinked. "What?"

    "This man he has a simr style to the aplice in the Elegant Butcher case. What if what if they are the same person and that is why he thinks we have an underlying connection?"

    Sebastian stiffened. "Why didn''t I think of that?" he whispered. "It does fit," he said after a while. "But that just adds more question that it solves."

    "It does. But now I know we are not looking for two people but one person," I stated.

    "But don''t be so quick to cancel out the possibility that it is two different people," he advised calmly. "I would be happier if it were one person. Though, also terrified because then he has been watching you for far longer than we anticipated and everything you feared was not just a figment of your imagination and your gut screaming at you to sense the danger around you."

 Chapter 149: The Deplorables

    Chapter 149: The Deplorables

    "I don''t know" I chanted. "But you''re wrong about one thing. He''s closer to my age that he is thirty-five." I didn''t want to talk about the implications, so I added in my deduction. "Alicia was a couple of years older than me. And if she had a partner, it would be someone who was closer to her age. She wanted a family she wanted love stories and that''s why she would choose someone who she could see herself in a romantic rtionship with."

    Sebastian furrowed his brow.

    "What are you thinking about?" I whispered.

    "I have this feeling that I know something but I just can''t grasp it. I don''t know what it is." He tugged at his hair harshly and I stopped him.

    "Okay, don''t do this to yourself," I hissed. "We can slowly figure it out, okay?"

    He patted my hand and smiled. "Well, I''ll keep thinking about it. Can we go home now?" he pleaded.

    I snickered before nodding. "I''ll just take a picture of this and go with you."

    And I did just that.

    As we walked out of the station, the people on night duty bid us goodbye.

    "How is the BTS case going for you?" I asked as we neared the car in the parking lot.

    Sebastian sighed. "They won''t allow me to work outside the station and won''t allow me to talk to anyone. Whatever information I had is still constant. I haven''t found anything ground breaking to find the identity of this person."

    He opened the passenger''s side and watched me slide in. He jogged over to the other side and slid in.

    I found myself surreptitiously looking at the mirrors to see if anyone was lurking in the distance. I could see no one who stood out. But that was the problem, this guy didn''t stand out.

    "Stop looking at the mirror," Sebastian said firmly.

    I jerked up, my train of thought broken by his words. I hummed.

    "This car is bullet proof. I never told you this, but I bought it with the intent that it couldn''t be destroyed. Even if hees at it with tools or fires at it, he won''t be able to get to you," he assured.

    I looked at him with surprise. "I didn''t know that. You should have told me earlier," I said.

    "I also asked the security guard to not allow any delivery people or anyone who doesn''t live in the building toe in," he said. "I even have a list of the residents with me. No one ising near our house ever again."

    "You took a lot of effort to get this, didn''t you?" I asked.

    "My dad is in the security business. He was in the military for a while and he owns his own business. He is a guest professor at universities, too. I learned from the best," he added with a light smile.

    I could hear the strain in his voice. I had never really heard him speak about his dad. We had been together for so long and he had asked me to marry him, but I had never seen his family.

    "Don''t you have a good rtionship with your family?" I asked. One of my motives was to find out more about him. I never pressured him into talking, so this was a good opportunity to make him speak when he was ready to open up. Another motive was to keep my thoughts away from the danger that lurked under the shadows.

    "It''s not like we are on bad terms, just that we don''t talk to one another much," he started. I nodded at him to coax him into continuing. "My dad is a genius in his own right and my mother is a highly intelligent woman. Their genes did a wonderful job at creating a perfect specimen like me."

    Thatment made me smile.

    "But as a young boy, there were high expectations from me. I was way ahead of any student in school or even the teachers at the time, but it was not enough. He pushed me to be my best self. Emotions were a hindrance and had no use in the world. He didn''t let my mother coddle me or do it himself. It was like living with a matron all my life."

    No wonder he turned out so isted.

    "I had never approached anyone to be friends. If I found someone interesting, I would find out everything about them and put the dots together and profile them. Once I knew who they were essentially, I didn''t feel the need to talk to them or get to know them further. This was how I got interested in criminal psychology. Normal humans were normal. Once I started, it was like I could read their minds. But it was more difficult to read the intentions of the deviants in the society as they call them."

    He shrugged.

    "And what did you find?" I asked. I wanted to unravel that beautiful mind of his. In the pursuit tofort me, he pressed down so many of his dark thoughts and ideas. I wanted him to feelfortable and talk about them in detail to me. I wanted to hear the raw passion oozing from his voice as he spoke about the deplorable of the society, of the grueling truth about things.

    "I found myself disconnected from them, too. They were fascinating, no doubt. They wereplex creatures but just the same. I think it was then I realized that each one of us has the potential for deviance. But it is not only our circumstances that make us deviants. It is the choices we make. It is the moral dilemmas we face." He looked at me longingly before turning back to the front.

    "And I knew that my father had been strict, but it was also not his fault that I was detached from the world. I had made that choice. I had made the choice to stand at the top and look down at other humans and dissect their minds."

    "But that is not all that you are, right?" I prompted. "You have so much good in you. You want society to be better and you want to help people, too."

    Sebastian shook his head. "Not as much as you. It was not only I met you that I realized that each human was unfathomable and rarely does a psychiatrist find out the essentials of a person. I can''t ce people into tiny boxes. It''s not just statistics and science. It is alsonguage and art and emotions."

    I shuddered a breath.

    "And has that helped you solve cases?" I asked.

    He blinked. "I can''t say for sure. I see people in a new light. I am not fighting for justice or helping people to the extent you do. I don''t have the same drive as you, but my thirst for knowledge increases the more I realize how unfathomable the human mind and intentions are." He suddenly grew silent. "I have a Ph.D. in the subject and I just now realized these things. Isn''t that funny?" hemented.

    I begged to differ. "That is not the case," I stated. "What we learn and what we realize are two different things. We know a lot of things in theory, but never in practice do we use them. Simrly, we know a theory or a philosophy but we might never think they are true or real until one day we suddenly find a connection to it with the world."

    He stared at me. "Good thing I have you. You make me realize things I didn''t think I was capable of." And then he chuckled.

    "What is it?" I wanted to know.

    "I just thought about Alec. He tried so hard to be my friend and I protested. Hetched himself onto me and I just let him."

    "I am surprised you kept him around!" I eximed.

    "Of course, I did. At first, I think I used him as a tool tomunicate with the world. But when he moved across the country and we rarely spoke, he didn''t fulfill the role anymore. I still consider him my friend."

    "Ah, Sebastian realized that human connections are important!" I wanted to pinch his cheeks.

    I knew that they spoke on the phone or over messages. Both of them were busy with work, both excelling in their fields. Though they rarely spoke, they could meet after years and carry forward a conversation they stopped at thest time they met.

    Alec was the one who brought gossip from old ssmates Sebastian didn''t care for. And though Sebastian acted like he didn''t care for the stories, he humored Alec and listened closely to the fates of the people he had observed.

    He matched them with the profiles he had pegged them in and was sometimes surprised by the turn of events.

    His friendship with Alec helped him grow.

    Moreover, the whole problem with him liking me had been cleared. Something about Alec taunting Sebastian to realize that he liked me. Whatever that meant. But it had been a while and Alec was working his ass off and barely had time to breathe.

    We reached the apartment and we slid out.

    As we went to bed, Sebastian turned to me. "The meeting with Alicia is tomorrow. Eleven-thirty in the morning. I took a half-day leave on our behalf. Don''t worry about it."

    I sniffed. "What would I do without you?" I whispered.

    "As little as I would be able to do without you." He kissed my nose and I bit my lip to hide the smile.

 Chapter 150: Belongs to Someone Else

    Chapter 150: Belongs to Someone Else

    My sleep was fretful that night. shes of my time under Alicia''s watch came back to me. But over the months, the faces of the other victims had grown blurrier. I couldn''t quite remember what they said exactly, or what they had looked like in theirst moments.

    I was sitting on the bed, my back leaning on the headboard when the sun peered out from behind the horizon. Sebastian sniffed beside me and his arm dragged across the covers to find the source of warmth.

    He startled awake when he couldn''t find me, the sleeppletely gone from his eyes as he panicked and looked around.

    "Oh," he said finally when he saw me. "You''re awake?" he whispered.

    I hummed as I reached out and dragged my finger through his scalp. "Were you scared I wasn''t beside you?" I asked.

    I wasn''t amused. I rarely saw him panic and when I did, it made my heart tighten.

    "It''s just from waking up and not finding you beside me." He offered me a small smile. "I have gotten used to waking up with you in my arms so I get nervous when you are not around."

    I knew he was worried about this mysterious stalker. Despite the sketches we had on our hands, no one really fits into that description.

    Yet.

    "Worried that I will run away?" I tried to tease. He chuckled and shook his head. He dragged me down and enclosed his arms around my waist.

    "Get a little more rest. You have circles under your eyes. You wouldn''t want those people to think we were doing lewd things all night, would you?" he taunted.

    I rolled my eyes. "No one will think that!" I protested.

    "Of course, they will. I told everyone in the station that I put a ring on our fingers. Everyone knows now and they will definitely think that we won''t wait for marriage," he whispered. "Which is true!" he added on, joyously.

    And then we fell silent. "I can''t fall asleep," I said finally. "I can''t remember their faces anymore, you know? The people who were there with me the people who died in the same room with me, in front of my eyes. I spoke to those people and I can''t really remember their faces anymore," I confessed.

    Sebastian listened to me silently before caressing my hair. "It was seven years ago. Even if it changed your life forever, your brain will not hold on to those acute memories forever. You will remember the pain and the trauma in vivid detail, but slowly, it will filter out details that were not to do with you. What will remain will be the raw emotions."

    "But how can I forget? How can I forget?" I felt the heat in my eyes and my vision blurred, his face bing distant.

    "It''s the harsh reality, Evie. We were programmed to only love and protect our family and friends. Most humans remain blissfully unwilling to help others whom they don''t know. And really we don''t remember our loved ones after years of their death. We are just programmed that way."

    I sniffed. "That sounds so cruel. I don''t want to forget, Sebastian. All those people" I trailed off.

    "It just means that you think you had some hand in their deaths. It is not true, Evie. You had nothing to do with it. No matter what anyone says, no one deserves what Alicia did to them, and no matter what she told you what she made you believe, you didn''t have a shred of fault in anything that happened to you or them. It is their decisions that made this happen."

    I could hear his words. I understood them. But at times, the guilt woulde back to me and hit me like a freight train.

    Wey together like that for what seemed like hours and I did catch some sleep. In his arms, the nightmares were obsolete.

    It was a recent development and I couldn''t say that I hated it.

    We finally dressed up and left for the high-security prison that Alicia was held at.

    The process to get in was rigorous. We had to take off all our essories, including the engagement ring on our fingers, get scanned through metal detectors, get patted down for good measure, and then questioned our motives before we were allowed inside the reception area.

    A couple of guards made their way over to us and bowed in front of Sebastian, which was not surprising. A lot of high-profile mass killers and criminals were held here. Sebastian had probably visited multiple times for psychiatric evaluations and interviews.

    "Dr. Butler, it''s been almost a year since you came for a consult," the older gentleman asked.

    "Evie, he is the warden here. He has been in the facility since Alicia was transferred her. If you want to talk to him and have any questions, go ahead," he urged with a light expression.

    "Miss Lewis, correct?" the gentleman asked. I saw the polite smile on his face and could guess that years of holding power over these highly dangerous criminals had made him cautious. The thing about being in power in such situations was that he was a target for violence and rumors.

    I bet he rarely spoke about himself.

    "Yes, Dr. Butler wanted this meeting because of something in rtion to me," I affirmed.

    "Yes, he told me that you were working on a case that might need Alicia''s help. Though I have no clue what that could be."

    And I believed the man.

    "How does she respond to interaction on a regr basis?" I asked as we walked towards his office.

    "With the prison guards or the other inmates?" he questioned back.

    I looked around. "This is a co-ed prison, is it not? Is Alicia in contact with male prisoners, as well?"

    He blinked. "I''ll answer all possible questions you have. With the female prisoners, she doesn''t talk much. She does smile and sometimes makes some snide remarks but nothing of importance. She rarely associates with male inmates, but if they try to get close to her, she acts very defensive and gets mildly violent."

    "And this violence is provoked by something, is it not?" I asked squarely.

    "Its general flirting or sexual conduct near her."

    I thought about it for a second. "Is it like she has a partner outside whom she doesn''t want to cheat on?" I asked. It was a wild guess.

    "I know she doesn''t have a significant other, but she does act like she belongs to someone else."

    Good, that proved my theory a little. "And with the guards?" I questioned.

    "She is pleasant with the guards. Almost yful. It''s like she is on a vacation here."

    Like she would leave soon. "So, she doesn''t fear anybody and freely calls people out. Has she been kept away from other people or tried to attack anyone?" This was an important question.

    "No. She is a model inmate. Other inmates get into nasty fights, but she never gets involved. It''s like these things don''t involve her. She did get into solitary confinement once for shouting her lungs out when someone said that nobody would love her."

    My eyes widened. "And the person is alive?" That was surprising. Alicia didn''t need weapons to kill.

    "It was at the very beginning, actually. I think after the first week she was here. She has been impable since then."

    That was because she was pissed at this aplice for abandoning her and fancying me. But this was only a theory. Over the years, this man must have stayed in contact for Alicia to be so unmoved by most things and remain loyal to him unconditionally.

    "Did she have any visitors?" I asked. He shook his head. "No visitors? No old friends, people who had a grudge against her. No letters?"

    He shook his head. "We get love letters for male serial offenders on a regr basis, but Alicia didn''t receive a single letter. No one came to see her except for the psychiatrists and some news channels."

    I felt a ray of hope. "Do you have a list of people who came with the people who wanted to interview her and the psychiatrists? Maybe that could help. I could get some connections with the aplice."

    "No one was allowed inside," the man whispered. "She refused to see the news people and the psychiatrists were turned back. The detective who was on the case, Ross Reynolds came once and only Dr. Butler was ever allowed to talk to her after that. She didn''t want to see anyone else."

    My hope dropped.

    "Thank you for answering my questions," I told him. "Is she already in the room?" I asked.

    "I''ll just hand you a file, walk you through safety protocol and have Dr. Butler go into the room to talk to her. Then, I''ll lead you to the adjoining room so that you can listen in on the conversation."

    I nodded.

    I turned to Sebastian. "Ready?" I asked.

    He smiled. "Of course. Anything in specific you want to ask?" he prompted.

    "You know the answers I want," I shrugged.

 Chapter 151: Only an Imitation

    Chapter 151: Only an Imitation

    Sebastian went inside and sat for a solid five minutes before a guard with Alicia came in. Her hands were cuffed behind her and the orange jumpsuit made her look more maniacal than I remembered her.

    Despite the one-way ss wall between us, I felt the crushing weight of panic hit me. I saw that devious smirk on her lips, so familiar yet so distant as she saw Sebastian sitting from behind.

    Surprise shed in her eyes when she went over to her side and I noted it.

    My head was swimming with thoughts, but I tried my best to push them back and focus on the interaction happening in front of me.

    I took in a deep breath and then opened the notebook I had brought alongside me.

    I had known I would be distracted and scared in the face of my tormentor when I sat in the car this morning. But I had not been ready for the train that hit me when I saw her.

    Clearly, she was in cuffs and there were guards around. Nothing would happen to me. She couldn''t touch me even if she was freed because I was stronger. My instincts ruled when I was in danger and I knew that first hand.

    Yet, I felt powerless. I was a room away, but I felt like I was sixteen again and at the mercy of the demoness who was adamant about making me insane and breaking me before she ripped off every shred of my skin and eating me.

    My pen hovered over the paper and I heard the conversation in the room finally begin.

    "Sebastian Butler!" Alicia eximed. The guard had put a handcuff on both her hands, tying her down to the arms of the chair. I knew for a fact that these chairs were locked to the ground and couldn''t be moved or used.

    Sebastian''s chair though was movable.

    "Miss Williams," he greeted, his voicecking emotion.

    "Why are you being so cold to me, Sebastian? We haven''t seen each other for a year and you are behaving like I killed your cat."

    I paused over the paper, almost sure that Alicia knew about Sheng Sheng. Somehow.

    Sebastian didn''t respond. "You haven''t spoken to the research fellow working under me," he stated. "May I know why you did that?"

    This was new. She had not wanted to meet people. Until Sebastian.

    "God, people are too stupid these days. I don''t want to meet inconsequential people. You, on the other hand, know what I desire and how I desire it." She looked dreamy as she spoke. Her crazy act was not lost on me but I knew exactly what it was: an act. "But who do I speak to if you don''t meet me?" She scrunched up her brows in difort.

    Sebastian ced his hand on the desk. "You got caught, didn''t you? Just like everyone else in this facility. You aren''t smarter than any of them. Don''t misunderstand your position in life," Sebastian rified.

    Alicia hissed. "You''re always saying that. But can they tell just by looking at you that you are seeing someone?" she taunted.

    I tried not to panic. I knew that it was easy to tell he was with someone because he had a ring prominently on his finger. It screamed that he was taken. But my brain was wired differently.

    "Yes, I am wearing a ring on my finger. It doesn''t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Sebastian responded ndly.

    Alicia stiffened. "It''s not that. I didn''t know you were engaged. I knew you were seeing someone because you aren''t cold towards me like normal. You''re angry about something. You''re worried about something, aren''t you?" she whispered.

    I heard it nheless. My ears were perked for every breath and every little shuffle of her clothes.

    "What do you think I am worried about?" he asked.

    He was testing her to see if this aplice had somehow informed her of his whereabouts and that of mine.

    "Someone close to you" she diverted. She didn''t want to say out loud. She wanted to drag the conversation out.

    "God, you really are stupid, aren''t you?" Sebastianmented. His eyes held nothing but coldness. It reminded me of the Sebastian I had met at the very beginning.

    "You don''t need to taunt me!" she eximed. "I know what you are doing. Are you acting all tough for the people watching? I hear that your girlfriend is in the police. What? She scared?"

    So, she did know about Sebastian having a girlfriend but she had no idea who it was. It was evident by how she phrased it. She didn''t know.

    "So, someone told you that I was in a rtionship," he ended. "That''s all I wanted to know, Miss Williams. I don''t like talking nonsense with you. You may be starved for male attention but I am not the person who will give it to you."

    Alicia pressed her lips together, hiding her grimace.

    "I don''t want any attention from you. You can shove your attention up your ass. I" she stopped.

    And I knew I knew that the aplice was the man she had thought she was seeing. She didn''t talk about him because she was loyal to him. She was romantically and mentally loyal to him. She felt powerless in front of him apart from whatever romantic feelings she thought she had.

    "Colorfulnguage. How did hee here?" he asked. He didn''t even need to ask if there was an aplice, that much was clear by now.

    "Who?" she asked.

    "You know who," he pressed.

    "I have no idea what you are talking about," she said firmly. Her gaze flitted towards the ss and I stiffened. "If you let your girlfriende in and talk to me, maybe I will reconsider. You came here for her. What, she is the one taking on cases and she thinks someone is helping me?" She started tough.

    "No," was all he said.

    "You got yourself a weak and pathetic woman? That is who you want to spend your life with? Look at me. I like men like you, cold and calcting. You know you are better than others and youe from prominent families. And you lower yourself to like a woman who isn''t any of those." She clucked her tongue.

    I jotted this down quickly. So, the aplice was from an influential family. It was not a new clue, but it was a confirmation.

    "Okay. You don''t need to talk to me." Sebastian got up from the seat and was about toe out when Alicia stopped him.

    "You''re leaving?" she asked. "Don''t. Really. I just want to see who she is. I want to see what kind of women men like you like." She wanted to see what kind of women the aplice liked.

    She was begging.

    And I was enticed. I wanted to hear the nonsense she spouted. I wanted to y the irrational fear I had of a puny human. Albeit the fact that this puny thing had cold-bloodedly ughtered my family and kidnapped and tortured me. She was nothing now.

    She had no power.

    She was a cog in the machine that ran without help and no one cared about her. Even the man she was protecting didn''t want her.

    Sebastian paid her no mind and moved out of the room. The guard looked taken aback but he waited onmand from the warden who was standing beside me.

    He was in the room beside me in no time.

    "What is the game n?" I asked him, knowing what I wanted to do.

    "I am going to let her agonize over what she did to make me lose interest and then beg me toe back and speak to her. I only go back when she tells me the full truth." He stared at me with urgency. He must have known what I wanted.

    He pressed his finger against the underside of my wrist, taking my pulse. He didn''t say anything but I could see the worry in his eyes.

    "I know what you are thinking and I don''t want you to do it," he said finally.

    "She said she would talk to your significant other," I shrugged.

    "If you go in, she would think that she has power over me and you. I don''t know if you will be able to handle it," he warned. He didn''t say more and I didn''t need to.

    "I have to do this. I want to see if she remembers me. I want to see if, in seven years inside this ce, she has forgotten my face," I said quietly.

    I thought back to the faces of the people she had forgotten and she wondered if she was just like Alicia. Did she remember each and every one of her victims or did she forget them like cattle?

    I wanted to know.

    "I lived with her in a certain way but I never had a conversation with her. I want to make her human in her eyes. If she is human and not this demon that I remember hurting me, I can ovee this. She can''t touch me then," I implored.

    He thought about my words for a long time. The supervisor looked between us before giving us space. After a long while, we noticed that Alicia had started to scream and shout. She didn''t want to be alone in that room.

    I recognized this situation. This was my ground. That interrogation room? I ruled it. Alicia Williams or not, I was the one who knew how to work a criminal to tears. And I could do it with this woman.

    "I am going in," I said finally.

    Sebastian hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Signal if you need to be relieved," he said firmly. "Do you understand?" His voice grew louder.

    "Yes."

    I sucked in a deep breath as I stood in front of the interrogation room. I turned the knob and went in with my notebook and pen tucked under my arm.

    I took the seat opposite her and the room quieted down.

    "Where is Sebastian?" she asked, frantically looking towards the ss.

    "You wanted to speak to me," I informed in a cold voice. "You wanted to see what kind of person men like him fall in love with. Now that your wishes havee true, you will open your mouth and speak," I growled. "If you protest, I will leave this room and ensure that no onees through it. You''ll be alone here, without anyone to talk to and even the little hope you had of meeting another human in your lifetime will be taken away from you. Do you understand?"

    Alicia blinked. At that moment, I saw a pathetic imitation of a monster I was scared of.

    "Who are you?" she asked.

 Chapter 152: Contradictory Fantasies

    Chapter 152: Contradictory Fantasies

    I felt a coldness grip my heart. I scrutinized her expression carefully and was stumped for words. She couldn''t recognize me. She ruined me and turned me into a monster and she didn''t remember me.

    And I wasn''t going to let her see who I was.

    "Sebastian''s fianc, but I suppose he didn''t tell you that, did he?" I retorted. "My name is unimportant because we will never meet again. And I don''t want to be in your filthy mind." I kept my tone cool andposed.

    Alicia''s eyes widened.

    "Now start speaking," I forced.

    "So, this is the kind of woman he likes. Aplete stuck-up bitch," she seethed. I could see the pure hatred in her eyes.

    "What? Are you going to poke my pretty little butt?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice as I quoted the first words she had directly said to me. I carefully watched for recognition but it never came.

    The words she threw out carelessly had made a deep impact on me.

    "I could try if you unlock my cuffs," she boasted.

    I startedughing. To my surprise, it wasn''t hysterical. But it was humorless. "Do you think you are cuffed down for my safety? You''re nothing but a pathetic convict living a lonely life in a high-security jail. You don''t even have the strength to get close to me." I looked at her hands. "If you pounced on me, I would incapacitate you and make sure you couldn''t use for hands for a few weeks," I told her emotionlessly.

    "Is the police now coercing people?" she asked. She jerked her hands against the binds and my eyes flickered to her resistance.

    "You are not a person, though," I told her. "No one thinks of you as a person. But it would have been a lot better if you hadn''t lied time and time again," I insinuated.

    "I never lied," she gritted out through her teeth.

    I hummed in acknowledgment, making it sure she knew I didn''t believe her.

    "I never lied," she repeated, putting more force into her words this time.

    "Okay, then. Let''s revisit every scene you were at." I flipped open my notebook.

    "When did you first start having aggressive and obsessive thoughts?" I asked.

    This surprised her.

    "Since I was a child. I was fascinated by the many ways people could die. I wanted to explore what happens to the body as it slowly dies and then I wanted to know what happens to it after it dies. What was avable on the television was only so much. The inte had some fascinating content but it wasn''t enough." She shrugged.

    "And how did you start to explore the changes in the body as the cells deteriorated?" I was phrasing it very carefully. I wasn''t using her of killing. I just wanted to know the progression of her psyche to find out when the aplice had found her and approached her.

    "I was made to volunteer at shelters by members of my family because I was trouble in their eyes and I saw people from all walks of life there I was sixteen then?" she thought back to the time.

    "And that didn''t quench your thirst?" I enquired.

    She shook her head. "I was happy with it for a while and then" she stopped and looked at me with a calctive expression.

    "What are you trying to make me say?" she hissed.

    "I am not trying to make you say anything. I am asking you simple questions which you need to answer truthfully."

    She scoffed. "Why should I answer? I don''t get anything from this conversation. You need the information for something and I won''t get anything in return."

    Bargaining. Good, we had progressed from denial then.

    "Because someone did you dirty and got away with the same crime youmitted. And you are a stupid woman who is protecting someone who doesn''t give a fuck about you. They haven''t evene to visit you in seven years!" I smirked.

    "Who said that?" she countered. "Just because you didn''t see it doesn''t mean I didn''t get visitors," she responded. And then she quietened down, knowing what she had just said.

    "Good, you are not being stupid any longer." Taunting really worked on this woman. "Now, let''s go back. What happened that made you want to kill people?" I questioned. "You wanted to see bodies dpose and learn, then why did you preserve the meat and eat it? Isn''t that contradictory?" I questioned.

    I saw her press her lips together.

    "Something must have changed. You don''t look like a nail biter," Imented as I looked at her nail beds. Perfectly groomed nails despite being in prison. She took care of it. "I would understand if you saw someone bite their nail and skin and wondered what it tasted like but why go that far?"

    She shifted ufortably in her chair.

    "Come on, tell me. I know you like being portrayed as a soulless monster, but don''t let them think you are soulless and dumb. You need to have a good reason for doing it. Something poetic to fit your angelic appearance." I taunted and coaxed. She looked hesitant before she huffed.

    "I saw someone eat human flesh and I got curious. I was a teenager then," she said finally.

    "Cannibalism is illegal. Come on, tell me. Who was it?" I leaned in and pressed.

    "No one, okay?" she countered, getting agitated.

    "Ah, so it was him. The man you love. You saw him eat something taboo and you wanted to show off to him. You wanted to show him that you were perfect for him and that you shared all his hobbies and likes." I analyzed and carefully watched as a sliver of fear radiated from her body. It spread across her and I knew I was spot on.

    "He was polished, from a good family, charming despite how ordinary he looked," I prompted. I saw her be enraged and knew what to say next. "But he wasn''t ordinary. He knew what murder looked like. He wanted to see bodies contort to his will. He liked eating human flesh and you found yourself pulled to him. So, to impress him, you started to kill, didn''t you?"

    "Stop," she growled.

    "What? You were no good at it, were you?" I remembered the estimated first murder that had happened.

    "I don''t know what you mean." Well, she could act like she didn''t understand but I knew I was on the right track.

    "Your first victim By your own admission, she was an elderly woman, right?"

    She huffed. She was happy that the questioning had shifted from the aplice to her own crimes.

    "Yes, she lived in the neighborhood. She needed someone to help her with her pets so I volunteered." Her voice was dispassionate again. "I remember stabbing her multiple times to kill her. I took a pound of flesh and brought it back with me, too." She nodded.

    At least she remembered her first victim.

    "Why stab her? Her cells were deteriorating and after her death, you could have watched how she dposed. She was living alone with no one to ask about her," I prompted.

    "I did leave her. I visited her often to see what happened to her body." Her eyes glowed with fascination. But then I caught it.

    "Why did you bury her then?" I asked.

    "Because people noticed her missing and I didn''t want to get caught." Lies.

    "What part of her did you take?" I asked.

    "I took the skin near her wrist," she muttered.

    "Considering it was your first kill, you chose the easiest location and the smallest one. Why the skin?" I asked.

    I had to make her speak. "Were you dissatisfied? Was he dissatisfied?"

    Alicia frowned. "It was nothing special." This meant she got scolded and decided she had been reckless to impress him and made a huge mistake. He helped her bury the first victim.

    "Let''s go to the second spree. Who did you take?" I asked.

    She thought about it and nodded. "It was a group of boys. Two of them. Roommates who were inseparable. Stalked them for a while before I took them."

    "How did you take them?" I questioned.

    "I entered the apartment they shared, using the key under their doormat. I unlocked the door and got inside. I found them watching television and punched them until they lost consciousness before dragging them out," she shrugged.

    I remembered the details of the disappearance and nodded.

    "They were watching television both awake. You entered and started punching both of them at the same time?" I asked.

    He paused. "I punched one before going to the other," she rephrased.

    "How did the other person remain stationary?" I asked.

    I was abashed that no one had really asked these questions in detail. I was sure Sebastian had but had her story changed? Maybe it was more believable that time?

 Chapter 153: Wouldnt Let Me Kill Her

    Chapter 153: Wouldn''t Let Me Kill Her

    "No need to be quiet, Alicia. Two men in their prime, both weighing close to eighty kilograms. You incapacitated both of them and took them out of the apartment alone without anyone seeing you," I finished for her. "Good story. Even a third-grade novelist doesn''t leave so many loopholes in their story."

    Alicia sighed. "What do you want me to tell you?"

    "Where did you meet him? The man you love?" I asked in a straightforward voice.

    "I don''t know what you are talking about."

    "The man you love hasn''t visited you in a while. He didn''t tell you Sebastian was engaged and he didn''t tell you that he was trying his best to get attention from the fianc." I smirked.

    "You''re lying," she said after a moment.

    I took a copy of the photograph and showed it to her. "He doesn''t care about you. He found someone he actually likes and he hates seeing her with someone else." I tapped my finger on the table.

    Alicia frowned. "He likes you?" she asked, usation and condescension clear.

    I smirked. "This isn''t the first time he has liked someone else in your presence, right?" I paused. "See? His heart is not yours. And you have been foolishly holding onto him for so long. What a pity."

    "Fuck!" she shrieked. A barrage of expletives poured out of her mouth. She called me names, called Sebastian names, called her lover names and I listened.

    Anger.

    We were moving along quite well.

    "He dropped you the moment he found someone interesting and to his taste. An intelligent woman who he thought could apany him and not one who was trying to imitate him and his likes to get his attention," I added. "He likes the game and you presented no such resistance. You were a willing mutt who wagged their tail and did whatever he asked of you. Now that he has abandoned you, you''re a street dog, but you''re still loyal to a fault."

    That riled her up.

    "Shut up!" she screamed. "I am not a dog! I am not his fucking dog. Everything was okay before he started liking that bitch. He wouldn''t let me kill her. HE WOULDN''T LET ME KILL HER!" She shook her head and the cuffs rattled.

    An epiphany came.

    "Who? Who did he like?" I asked calmly.

    "Evie. Evie fucking Lewis!" she screamed.

    "Who is that?" I asked, keeping my voice level. Like I didn''t know who the hell Evie was. The implication was that this aplice had been in the same building as me throughout my captivity. Not once had I seen him or even his shadow, but he had been watching me.

    There had to be cameras everywhere then. He had watched me talk to the other victims, berate and rebel against Alicia, he had watched me cry, go unconscious with pain and sleep.

    The others didn''t feel as intrusive as thest.

    When I was in captivity, I had better sleep than I did aftering out. I had never thought about it before that moment, but it was true. While in there, I had some hope of going out, but I was resigned to my fate.

    But when I was out when I was free, I kept wondering when I would be dragged back into hell. It was just a matter of time before the rug would be pulled out from under me and I would be back in that room and tied to the chair.

    "You know everyone but you don''t know Evie Lewis?" she asked, stunned. "The bitch somehow ran away and she was the reason why they caught me," she sneered.

    "Why did you keep her in captivity for so long?" I asked. This was a curious case. She usually killed the people within a week of abducting them, sometimes a little more. But I had been different.

    Alicia started tough. "You know it had been a decision I made after the adrenaline rush. Her dad was getting closer and god knows how he was finding out clues. When I killed the whole family they squealed like pigs as they died but that girl" She shook her head in astonishment.

    "What about her made you take her?" I wanted to know. I wanted to know, damnit.

    "She woke up in the middle of the night and walked down the dark hallway. Even I am not psychopathic enough to walk down that weird-ass hallway without the lights switched on." She shuddered for effect. "And I was sure she saw me. Her eyes fell on me, it paused for a second, and then she just walked into the bathroom!" she guffawed.

    I slipped my hands away from the table and ced them on myp where she couldn''t see. My nails dug into my palms as I schooled my expression to remain nonchnt.

    "She heard everything. I could hear her breathing get harder inside the bathroom. I knew she understood everything. And the bitch didn''te out to save her family." Moreughter. "People think she is this little victim or they think she saved the other three but no! She didn''t save the others It was funny, really." And she giggled and giggled and giggled until I was gritting my teeth.

    "Why did you take her?" I asked, trying to get her back on track.

    "Ah! She intrigued me. Her father was a cop a fantastic cop who followed the rules. Her mother was a dream. She had a loving family and she was happy. I wanted to see why she had turned out to be such a little bitch who didn''t even try to save her parents." She shrugged.

    "So, you put all those people in front of her to test her if she would save them or herself?" I asked. I caught my mistake a littlete, but Alicia didn''t seem to notice. She was too engrossed in her memories, a wide grin stretching across her face.

    "I wanted to see how low she could get to save her pretty little ass. But she just" she huffed. "She fought me all the way. She made friends with the people I brought to kill and have a party. She reassured them and smiled at them."

    "And you couldn''t believe she would do that?" I asked.

    Alicia nodded. "On one hand, she defied me at every turn and on the other, she was pliant and almost motherly to the other people. It was fascinating."

    "But why did want to introduce her to cannibalism?" I had an idea why, but I wanted to push the answer out of her. Alicia shifted ufortably. "You don''t like cannibalism you probably enjoyed showing him what you were doing for him. Then why did you try to make her follow you?"

    She was silent.

    "Not going to tell me? Should I guess?" I challenged.

    She red at me. "He found her fascinating, too. He couldn''t understand the dichotomy of her character. She was nice, but she also had a ''fire in her''." She rolled her eye.

    That was a direct quote. I knew that for a fact.

    "It started out as intrigue, but I saw how he looked at her. Like he would rece me at any moment if she started to like eating humans. Like he wanted to y Bonnie and Clyde with him." She gritted her teeth as she spoke. Her words were forced out and her breathing got harsher.

    "And you hated that, didn''t you? It made you want to kill her," I spurred her anger on.

    She jerked against the restraints. "I got really close to it. I sliced her up, I spoke to her like she was a beast, and I was ready to fucking puncture her body until she was full of holes. I went to her when she was asleep and I was going to stab her and he pulled me away."

    Alicia hung her head.

    "And you didn''t kill her? You didn''t even have the idea?"

    Alicia shrugged now.

    "Did he ever meet any of the victims? Did hee over to eat with them?"

    Alicia stared. I saw a sh of something in her eyes and I knew she was shutting up.

    "Why? Do you think you will find him through the remaining people? You won''t find him. You will never find him. They are all dead, remember? They are all dead!" she shouted.

    "Miss Lewis is alive and well. Did she see him?" I asked.

    Alicia snorted. "She''s still alive? I thought they all died."

    I hung my head and a smile spread across my lips. I chuckled and shook my head.

    "No. She is alive. But he didn''t tell you that. He didn''t tell you that Evie was alive. He didn''t tell you who I am. He didn''t tell you anything and he didn''t visit you."

    Now, thest time he had visited was still in question. Was it right after Sebastian and I went to the magic show? Was it more recent after I actually started the rtionship? When was it?

    "He came a couple of months ago. He is busy and he doesn''t have time. So, what!" she screamed.

    What an idiot. I couldn''t see myself being afraid of her any longer.

    "He''s a liar and a cheater. And you are covering for him. You are paying for his sins," I sowed the seeds of doubt in her head. "He reced you and now he is searching for new people to be the Bonnie to his Clyde."

    I heard the door open behind me and the superintendent peered in. "Miss Lewis, Dr. Butler wants to see you," he said. His voice was low, but I swore I could still hear the silence ensue.

    "What the fuck?" the scream came.

    "I''lle out in a few minutes," I announced. I turned back to Alicia. "I suppose the cat''s out of the bag, huh?" I tilted my head and gave her my best smile. "Look at us, still the same. Only this time, you''re the one tied up and I can do anything I want to you."

 Chapter 154: A Fitting Timeline

    Chapter 154: A Fitting Timeline

    "I''ll rip your eyes out if you try to touch me," she hissed. Her lips curled up over her teeth and she sneered.

    "Oh?" I took the challenge. I moved the chair right beside her and touched her arm. "You can''t do a thing, can you?" I asked. "You were never able to do anything on your own."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Something about me made you think would interest that lover of yours, didn''t you? That''s why you took me," I emphasized. She stared and then shook her head. "How did you get our address? There is no way you could have followed Charlie Lewis. The man looked over his shoulder more often than a person with obsessivepulsive disorder. You didn''t tail him and his address was a government secret. How?"

    Her lips trembled as I squeezed her hand.

    I got a sick pleasure from the flinch she gave. By no means was my pressure enough to hurt her or leave marks, but the fear that I would damage her was enough to scare her out of her wits.

    "It wasn''t confidential. He had no problem getting the location without being spotted." I could distinctly tell that she was holding back. And I didn''t expect anything less from her.

    "Let me guess, he made you think that he was this high and mighty being who could get any information he wanted with the snap of his fingers. That, even though you didn''t wear gloves and left evidence all over the crime scenes, no one would catch you because he would make it disappear. He''s not that good, you know?" Thest part was whispered by me.

    Her eyes widened. "You didn''t do a single murder on your own. He inspired you forced you tomit them and he told you that he had the power to make all traces leading to you disappear." I chuckled. "But that was not true. Charlie Lewis sniffed out every little detail and traced it back to you, didn''t he?"

    "He was lucky," she hissed.

    "There is no such thing as luck in investigations, Alicia. It''s experience and evidence that talk and give definite answers. That lover of yours wasn''t half as good as he thought. He was new to this just like you and you knew he wasn''t that good because my father was going to catch you."

    I shook my head. "That''s why you got rid of me. You probably told him that you wanted to threaten or frighten him. But then when you killed him, you knew he would be furious. So, you took me back. You took me back because he would find me and my background fascinating."

    I looked deeply into her eyes and spouted the story that came to my mind. From the panic in them, I could tell that I was close to the truth. So close that Alicia was struggling.

    "What about my background could have intrigued him?" I wondered. "Maybe he had a father in the government or a mother who kept the family together. Maybe it was a major difference in how we were brought up despite the simr circumstances that made me the idealb rat maybe he thought of me as a soul mate because despite being loved and cherished, I had a darker side to me."

    It was the truth. I could see it in his eyes.

    "You ced me right in front of him on your own ord and you axed your own foot."

    Alicia nodded. "I shouldn''t have let you live. It was the greatest mistake I made." She gulped. "I have a feeling that he was the one who untied you," she whispered. "He wanted me gone and he wanted to be your hero so he let you go."

    She shook her head. "And you fucking released everyone and ran. You saved them in your own twisted way and I got caught. The funny part? Even after all this time, you have no idea who he is."

    I met him. I had definitely met him.

    The confession gave me a few clues. He had been near me to the days leading up to my escape. Which meant, I saw him clearly because he wanted me to remember him.

    The timeline fit.

    Now, I needed to remember every face I came across.

    "I don''t remember him. Aren''t you happy?" I asked.

    She was humorless. "Once he sets his mind on you, he will do his best to steal you. He doesn''t lose, so he will reach you soon and make you love him."

    I shook my head. "He inspires people to be evil. But the choice is theirs in the end. You were susceptible to his charms, therefore you fell prey and you became useless to him. He used you as a tool to quench his bloodthirst without getting his hands bloody. Don''t you get it? He might be living afortable life, with friends and family and even kids and you are rotting here."

    The image was jarring even in my mind. "Your cells will degenerate and you will die slowly, only left to your thoughts. You must be satisfied: your urge to know how the body dposes might just get granted. And you will feel death, confined in that small box, without anyone who cares about you. You will never see him again and he will be happy to have you gone. What do you think of that, Alicia Williams?"

    Why was I so chatty? It was therapeutic. The things I wanted to say to her for so long came tumbling out of my mouth, filling her with venom and doubt about her already bleak life.

    I took in a cleansing breath. "Or, you could condemn him and make him rot here with you. You can watch him slowly die right beside you." I tilted my head.

    No, there was no love between Alicia and the man. She found someone perfect to obsess over and he used her for his pleasure. If she loved him, the frightening gleam of happiness at the thought of condemning him to jail and her hatred would not have ovee her. Instead, she would have been devastated.

    "I don''t know if his identity is real. But he is around Dr. Butler''s age. His father is a man of power and his mom is a good-old housewife who has no idea the spawns of the devil reside under her roof," sheughed. "I don''t know anything else."

    I raised a brow. "What did you call him?"

    She had mmed up.

    "Aren''t you a great detective? Find him yourself. Once he is inside, I want to tell him I had no hand in him getting caught. I can''t lie to him, you see" she trailed off and herughter grew louder and louder.

    I got up from my seat and dragged it to the farthest corner.

    As I left the room, I saw Sebastian leaning against the wall already.

    "Are you okay?" Was the first thing he asked.

    I nodded. "I feel unburdened. Like I am finally free from her clutches." I looked at the bright light hanging from the ceiling. "It is like I had my wings injured and didn''t dare to fly like I couldn''t dream to be happy because I knew it would hurt if I tried. But now, seeing her, I know that the wound was in the past."

    Sebastian smiled. "I don''t know if I should be upset that you are speaking in metaphors or not," he breathed.

    The superintendent looked ashamed as he made his way to me. "I am so sorry, I didn''t make the connection." Which was stupid. "I slipped out your name and led to trouble."

    I shook my head. "It''s fine. I didn''t intend on her finding out who I was, but the results of her knowing my identity brought me more information than I anticipated." And it liberated me. "And please don''t be frightened. I don''t hurt people I interrogate. I have a grudge against that woman in there. She killed my family and tortured me for seven months."

    The man nodded nervously. "You have every right," he said quickly.

    "I''ll trust you not to let the word spread that she spoke about an aplice," Sebastian interjected, a warning clear in his voice.

    "Dr. Butler. I will ask everyone to not speak of the matter," he tried to please.

    "I also want the list of guards who have been on duty over the years," I said quickly.

    Sebastian''s eyes sparkled. "Yes, do you mind giving us the list?" he asked. "It would be better if you could help us identify someone. We are looking for a man around my age, with powerful allies. He should have an average appearance and gets along with people easily. Can you think of anyone?"

    The superintendent scratched his head. "We didn''t have anyone with powerful parents of family and your description matches most of the recruits over the years."

    Sebastian went silent. "It means he was hiding his family," he told me.

    I nodded. "Anyone who spoke of an overbearing father? Maybe they hated their father or missed him. Like an obsession with a male figure?" I prompted. "And ack of female partners," I added.

    "All the delinquents and people looking for a power tripe here. Your description matches most of the prison guards. No one stands out but I will give you the records."

    "I want everyone''s name," Sebastian pressed. "Even if the person worked for a few hours or works part-time, I want to know."

    I smiled.

 Chapter 155: The Dark Web

    Chapter 155: The Dark Web

    I turned to Sebastian when we were halfway to the station. "Received it," I chirped.

    "Did they send the scanned copies?" Sebastian asked.

    "They send the scanned copies and the documentation in the prison system," I prompted. "From what I can see, there are schedules and attendance sheets attached, too."

    "Good," Sebastian hissed. "Now it''s time to get this bastard and put him down," he seethed.

    "You''re really angry all of a sudden" I trailed off.

    "I should be. I spoke to Alicia for so many years but I had no idea there was someone else." He sounded mildly defeated.

    "You''re still human, Sebastian. And love is the most irrational thing on the. A person can either shout about it to the world or act like it doesn''t exist." She smirked. "You couldn''t have seen the change in her bodynguage or clothing because she was wearing that orange jumpsuit and her hands and legs were tied to the chair for the duration of the interview."

    "But I have spoken to people like that," Sebastian must have felt guilty.

    "When someone is brainwashed or part of a cult, they don''t have the same expressions. Drive. We got him now," I assured.

    He nced towards me before going back to driving.

    When we reached the station, the general buzz of people going in and out was evident.

    I saw Nash standing at the reception, talking to a group of new recruits.

    "Hey, I''m back. Is there anything new we need to work on?" I asked.

    Nash turned, clutching his heart. "Make some noise, Evie. You scared me to death." He rubbed his hand. "We have a missing person''s case being lodged with one of the officers, so we will probably get that. Depending on who the case gets assigned to, we might have some work to do," he said calmly.

    "Well, you won''t be disappointed with the paperwork I brought. We have a lot to go through." I chuckled when I saw the expression in his eyes.

    "What paperwork?" he asked.

    I shrugged, not wanting to disclose it in front of others.

    Now that I knew this guy definitely had some government or police connections, I was not going to speak to anyone about him not even the emails to the superiors would go out. Who knew, maybe one of them was the dreaded family member of the aplice.

    "Okay," he said casually.

    Sebastian kissed my forehead before disappearing into his office. When we went into ours, Nash opened his mouth to speak.

    "You spoke to Alicia, didn''t you?" he asked, no longer casual. I nodded. "I thought Sebastian was going to do that. You were not allowed inside," he said, frustrated.

    "I know you discussed me while I wasn''t there. But I needed that. I know a bit more now. I think I can find him. And it is not going to be long," I said finally.

    "I can see it on your face." He paused. "So, what did you find on him?" he asked.

    I spilled whatever had happened and he gaped. "This is not how I taught you. But good for you, you got your information and a semnce of revenge."

    I smirked. "So, we have the employee files for everyone working as guards, temporary staff, and the canteen staff. We have their phone records and home addresses. We also have their rmendations and other details," I must have had a huge smile on my face.

    "Great. We can start going through the information, now," he said. "Good detective work!" he praised.

    I sent him the information when Nash''s phone rang.

    He picked it up and spoke into it for a couple of minutes before a haunted look appeared in his eyes.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked.

    "Emergency case. It''s a missing teen," he said. I blinked.

    "The missing person''s case?" I asked. He had been casual about it before, but now it was a different story altogether. "What about it?"

    "Eleven-year-old female student got out from school but never came home. Her parents reported that she didn''te back on time today and went to school to find her. They found her bag and nothing else."

    I cringed.

    "She''s a child, so we will have an alert sent out, right?" I asked.

    "Yeah, it has been sent out. A primary team has been sent out to scope out and interview people but there is a catch," he muttered. I waited patiently. "She is on insulin. If she forgets to take it twice a week"

    "She dies," I finished. "No matter if this is foul-y or the girl wandered off, we need to find her before she goes into shock," I stated. "They need us as reinforcement?"

    Nash nodded.

    "Have we checked her bag yet? For the contents? Are the parents still here?" I asked.

    He nodded once again. "They''re waiting outside. Inconsble, of course. So, let''s go there."

    We rushed to the waiting room. With the chill in the wind, I could see that the parents were distraught. They were wearing their home clothes, their feet in slippers. They just had shawls draped over their shoulders but they looked like the chill had prated their bones.

    "Excuse me," I said softly. The father raised his head, his eyes were red from unshed tears. Beside him, the mother sobbed, her head in her hands. She didn''t look up. "My name is Evie Marie Lewis and I will be joining the team to find your daughter," I reiterated.

    "Hello," he said, sniffing once. "You will find her, right?" he asked, his voice shaking.

    "We will do our best to find her and bring her back home safely," Nash said quickly before I could promise something. "Would you mind if we asked a few questions?"

    "We know other officers have asked you before, but we want to crosscheck for any information that we might have missed. Is that okay?" We helped one another in this manner. That was the teamwork we had. This was why we solved every case that came our way.

    The father sat up and wiped his face before nodding.

    "When did you think something was wrong?" I asked.

    "She is supposed to get home around one in the afternoon. She studies in a morning school, so shees back home early," he said.

    "So, she didn''te home at one. What did you do?"

    "We called the school and they said she left for home" he trailed off, his brows scrunching.

    "And how far is the home?"

    "It''s around 500 meters from our home. We just allowed her toe home alone from this school year." The mother started to cry.

    "We shouldn''t have let her!" she sobbed. The father pressed his hand over hers in an attempt to console her.

    We let her cry.

    "Do you know any friends with whom she could have gone?" I asked. I didn''t want to sound skeptical but these were procedure questions.

    "No, we called everyone to see if they had seen her. Everyone said she went home straight after school and she didn''t talk to anyone."

    "Thank you. Any friends or rtives whom she might havee across?"

    "No. She has her diary and secret magic stuff in her bag, so she wouldn''t leave it behind even if someone she knew asked her to go."

    Magic. Okay, it might not have been something to look at but I kept it at the back of my head.

    "How often does she need to take her medication? Can you give us detailed information on what the prescription is, the dosage, and timings?"

    Their eyes dimmed.

    "Do you think you won''t find her in time?" the mother shuddered.

    "We need to have all bases covered. We want to return your daughter to you healthy," I assured.

    The mother pulled out her phone and showed me the prescription. "I keep her prescription on hand for emergencies. I can share it with you if you want," she said hopefully.

    I nodded. I helped her transfer the picture to my phone. "Would you mind bringing her prescribed insulin so that we can administer it if need be?"

    The mother nodded. "Okay. Please go home, take a shower and have some warm food. We''ll search for her and when youe back next, we will try to give you an answer."

    I smiled. The parents looked a little reassured. They held hands as they left.

    I stood up and turned to Nash. "Is there any chance she fell sick and walked away?" I asked.

    "It''s possible. We will look at the footage."

    About half an hourter, the bag was brought in for inspection. It was sent to the forensicsb and we followed.

    The whole thing was dumped out.

    "Mind if we look through as well?" Nash asked as we entered.

    "Please do. It''s not much, but maybe we can get something."

    Apart from the school books and stationery, we also had her journal. I picked it up and sighed.

    "I don''t want to pry into her journal but we might get a clue, right?" I whispered.

    "That''s the job. Read," Nash ordered.

    I flipped through the journal, reading every line carefully until the very end.

    "Wow, you''re a really fast reader!" the analyst gasped, looking at me when I put down the journal. I shrugged.

    "upational hazard," Imented. "Did you find any prints?" I asked.

    "Plenty of fingerprints. The dirt on this is a lot too. We''ll need to run this through our catalog and maybe something will happen," hemented.

    "We shouldn''t rule out she walked away because she was disoriented," I said ndly.

    Nash''s phone was blowing up. He looked down in confusion. "It''s the cyber-crime department," he groaned. He picked it up and I heard hurried talking on the other side. "Email it. Email the footage, email the link everything. And don''t take the video down. Keep it rolling."

    My throat constricted. "What is it?" I asked before he could hang up.

    "They found a livestream on a website. It''s one of those violent fantasy websites where people pay to watch videos. The missing girl was in one of them. Someone from the cybercrime team recognized her when the camera shes towards her."

    Horror struck me. "They need to watch those things every day?" I whispered.

    He nodded. "It''s about a particr streamer who has been showing extremely violent content. They are trying to ascertain if these men and women are willing participants Now we know." His eyes darkened.

    "God, I don''t know if I am happy or horrified. Let''s get down to this. We need to find her," I breathed.

    I pressed my eyes together and sighed. "I sometimes regret working here," I admitted.

    "Don''t. Don''t think about it. It''s only the end result that matters. We need someone like you on our team. No matter what we see we have a job to do." He patted me on the shoulder and we walked out.

    It was going to be a long day.

 Chapter 156: One to Lure, One to Initiate

    Chapter 156: One to Lure, One to Initiate

    [Trigger warning: Please tread carefully. The video speaks of violent sexual abuse. If you are notfortable with it, please skip.]

    The notepad was ready and Nash and I sat together, prepared to watch this horrifying tape.

    "Don''t worry. They are already tracking the IP address from which the live stream is being done," he said.

    I sucked in a deep breath before pressing y.

    "Hello there, bitch. Are youfortable right now? I doubt it." The man speaking sounded like he was in histe forties to early fifties. The rumble of his voice and the slow, almost amused way he addressed the captive female was disconcerting.

    But the way he stopped and spoke made it sound like he had said this speech over and over again, but he still hadn''t lost the pleasure of telling his victim exactly what was happening.

    This was the initiation.

    So far, a woman in her twenties could be seen on the frame.

    "Wrists and ankles chained, gagged, probably blindfolded. You are disoriented and scared too, probably. Perfectly normal under the circumstances."

    I held my breath. Definitely scripted. The woman in the video was indeed chained and gagged, but the blindfold was not on. I quickly wrote down the first point of identifying the man.

    "You''ll be fine. For a little while, at least. For now, you need to listen to every word I say. It is very relevant to your situation. I am going to tell you in detail why you have been kidnapped and what''s going to happen to you, and how long you will be here."

    "I don''t know the details of your capture because I don''t care about it. The information is based on my experience dealing with captives over several years. Now, you are here against your will. Totally helpless. And you don''t know what your future holds. You are either scared or pissed off. I know that you''ve already tried to get your wrists and ankles loose and know you can''t. And now you are waiting to see what is going to happen to you."

    I pressed pause.

    "This isn''t a tape of his procedure, but he is saying it like he can''t change it," I noted. "Like a ritual."

    Nash pressed his lips together. "The s way in which he speaks about the condition shows that he is desensitized to it and it is not the act of capturing or scoping out that excites him, but the acts performed during the capture," he added sombrely.

    Then the idea sparked in my head. "Have we identified the woman in the video yet?" I asked.

    "Not yet. We are looking through missing person''s reports and social media to see if her face matches with anything of consequence, but nothing so far."

    "We could triangte a location where the women are being held if we got some of the other victims," I muttered.

    "Let''s continue," Nash prompted.

    "Remember, our primary interest is in what you got between your legs." I sucked in a harsh breath. So, crude. It was jarring listening to this in real-time. "You''re be taken thoroughly and repeatedly for all you are worth. You have been snatched and brought here to be trained and used as a sex ve. Sound kind of far out? Suppose it is to you general folk. But to us seasoned folks, it''s just another day."

    More than one person involved?

    "One to lure in and the other initiates?" Nash asked.

    "I think so. He seems like the kind of man who wants to be heard. He wants to be the one in control. He is speaking in an almost soothing voice, which means that he wants to be the only one they think is merciful."

    "The captor bes the savior" Nash trailed off.

    "You are going to be kept and used by force. You are going to be kept naked and chained like an animal, to be used at my disposal."

    And it went on and on for an hour.

    The things the man said were horrifying. But more horrifying was thements on the live-stream. The people cheered him on, anticipating what woulde next. What would happen to this one?

    And thements suggested that this speech was something they had heard a hundred times.

    The camera shook slightly and we could figure that the man was holding it up in his hand. Maybe he was using his cellphone.

    He mentioned the involvement of women. Maybe a wife or a girlfriend was involved.

    "We need to see the others," I whispered. Nash had his head in his hands and I knew he was trying to erase the words from his head.

    "How are you not affected?" he asked, horrified.

    "I am. I just expect this from people, so I know how to keep the vomit down. If you want to take on the other details, do so. I''ll try to figure out the location and the other women. I''ll send you screengrabs of all the women and you can run them and find out where they werest seen. And we can have some sort of idea in which locality this man operates."

    "You''re actually going to look through all of this?" Nash sounded like he was going to puke.

    "Yes. I''ll find out more information on the kind of building we are looking for. If I don''t see through this, I don''t think anyone else will be able to stomach it," I shrugged.

    Nash''s eyes widened. "And you won''t be reminded of the time?" he asked.

    "I might, but I don''t think I will be affected by it too much. I have in the proverbial demon this morning." I gave him the most reassuring smile I could muster.

    As the man spoke behind the camera, it shook and in that split second, I really did see the little girl in the corner of the room. She was blindfolded but still clothed.

    I looked through a substantial number of videos before I saw a pattern. This man never had more than one woman in his room. More specifically, he yed with every single woman for a longer period of time. This meant that something went wrong this time.

    He would have gotten unnoticed if not for the parents of an eleven-year-old who knew something was wrong when their daughter didn''t return home on time.

    From what I could tell, the interior of the building was made of exposed brick with white paint on it. The room was narrow, like a pantry or a corner in the basement, and toys and devices were ced across the walls and shelves. The man or the group of people involved were not overtly organized in the arrangement and there was no rhyme or reason as to why certain things were ced in a certain way.

    This man also had no regard for hygiene.

    What puzzled me was theck of faces. The man wore an animal head, a cartoonish contrast to his heinous crimes. There was also a female in the scene and she too was masked.

    The skin of her arms and exposed legs gave me a sense of how old she could be. A younger female.

    It still could be a wife or a girlfriend, but it helped to know that there was a considerable age difference between the two perpetrators.

    But then, I realized something. What if I watched it in chronology? Someone who started filming recently or posting would be less avid at hiding themselves.

    So, I went back. I went back to the first couple of videos and grinned.

    This was happening at a house. A brick house with an overgrown garden. I could assume that this was one of the houses with not many people living around them Nobody to listen to the screams. Or maybe or maybe the woman in the first video was not a victim but a sexual partner.

    It got more curious.

    As I watched, a call came in. I looked at my phone and felt a smile tugging on my lips. I hit pause and put the phone to my ears.

    "Hey, what is it?" I asked.

    "You haven''t noticed the time, have you?" Sebastian''s warm voice came from the other side.

    I pulled the phone away and looked at the time. It was two in the morning. I gasped. "I didn''t even see the time. I got carried away looking over this. This is hours and hours of footage and I am watching it in multiplied speed, okay?" I sighed.

    "You''re doing a fine job," he breathed. "I came home to feed Sheng Sheng. I know that it''s an urgent case, so I will cook the food and bring it to you in the morning, okay?" I felt my heart warm as I hummed.

    "Cuddle Sheng Sheng on my behalf. I''ve been ignoring her for the past few weeks," I grumbled.

    "Sheng Sheng doesn''t mind. She''s content frolicking around in the creche all day long," he teased. "Here, she wants to talk to you," he hummed.

    I heard her little mewls and chuckled. Sheng Sheng was almost full-grown now. Her ws were deadly and quite a few of our cushions had been sacrificed to her anger.

    "Now, get back to work. Eat some instant noodles and coffee for now. I trust that you''ll solve the case in no time," he assured.

    "Ah, it''s such a pleasure to have a fianc who trusts me to the moon and back," I said, amused.

    "Yes, your fianc taught you almost all of what you know. I don''t trust you as much as I trust my ability to teach."

    I snorted. "Well, Dr. Butler. I will leave you to your gloating then. I have a missing child to bring back home safely," I gloated.

 Chapter 157: The Abandoned Bag

    Chapter 157: The Abandoned Bag

    It was seven in the morning and I was still sitting in front of theputer screen, watching the live-stream. It was horrifying, to say the least, but I felt like these women would be killed if I looked away. No, what was happening to the woman in the frame was horrible. She probably wanted to die, but I knew I knew that death was the final fate. You could recover from everything you had the chance to recover if you survived.

    So, I watched.

    Nash pressed his hand against my shoulder. "Evie, stop," he pleaded.

    I didn''t look away. "I can''t. I need to make sure they don''t die," I whispered. "When we catch these people, we can find the other victims, but for now, my sole responsibility is to make sure these people don''t die a horrible death."

    "You need food," he pressed.

    "Would you mind bringing something for me? I really can''t leave," I said. I gave him a small smile.

    "Got it," he said slowly.

    I looked back to the screen and huffed. I suddenly remembered that I needed to look at the people who were trapped with me and phoned Sebastian.

    "Are you awake?" I almost whispered. I heard him take a shuddering breath and groan.

    "Yeah, I was awake a bit longer after I spoke to you. I had some thinking to do about the cold case I am handling," he said, his voice groggy.

    "Anything you can tell me?" I asked casually.

    "No, nothing concrete. I am just looking through all the evidence. I think I am getting somewhere. I should be able to crack the case, soon," he assured.

    "Wow, my fianc is going to solve one of the longest unsolved cases in the world, huh?" I praised. I knew the pride in my voice was uninhibited.

    "Indeed, I''ll crack it in a couple of days. I have the profile ready. Just going through some extra spections. Are you calling me to wish me good morning?" he teased.

    "Absolutely not. I am calling you to ask a favor of you," I responded.

    "Favor?" I could tell that he was off the bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

    "I was thinking back to what Alicia said. If I had dinner with the aplice while I was captive, I must have thought he was kidnapped just like me," I told him.

    "Or you don''t remember him at all," he responded.

    "Well, if none of the faces I remember are missing, I will be certain it is not a memory I can actively recall. I will go to Dr. Knight and ask him if there is another way to do it, then."

    Sebastian was silent. "You can''t do that," he said firmly. "I''ll bring the file, but if nothinges from it, you will stop."

    And that was that. "What? You''ll solve it without tormenting my broken mind?" I asked. I tried to joke, but I knew my words were scathing.

    "Yes, as always," he said firmly.

    "Okay, just bring the files," I replied. We''d see what needed to be done when the time came. "See you in an hour!" I chirped.

    I hung up the call and went back to watching the footage.

    Nash rushed in after a few minutes and ced a bag of food on my table alongside files. "I got two copies. We identified some of the men and women," he said excitedly.

    "Okay, so we have a location where they were disposed, right?" I asked.

    Nash blinked. "This is the weird part. Some of them are alive," he said.

    "They are alive?" I asked. "These people were kidnapped and kept for so long and they still appeared alive?" I asked.

    "Yeah. We already called some of them up. One of the victims is from another state, but I think we could get her on a video call!"

    I pressed my lips together. I flipped through the pages and grimaced further. "Some of them went missing while hiking and never came back bodies never found. Others just appeared in ditches and people sent them to hospitals"

    I gaped. "Yeah, people thought they overdosed and everything," Nash exined.

    "So, he drugged them to limate them and keep thempliant," I muttered. I looked at the video again and felt my heart grow cold. "Then he must have given the girl drugs too, right? I don''t know much about medication but this could lead to organ failure and otherplications, right?" I asked.

    Nash nodded. "That''s why we are looking at talking to the living victims. If they remember some detail," he said.

    "How about I talk to the victims while you see the locations they were taken and discarded. Maybe we''ll get some clues?" I suggested.

    "I''ll do that." That was the thing. I was good at helping victims speak and open up. But Nash had a world of experience in profiling and locating criminals. I was mostly a nuisance, in my opinion, but I would try my best to help out in the case.

    Sebastian must have entered without noise because I felt his lips on my hair. My lips perked up in a smile and I turned to him. But I saw his eyes fixed on the screen in front of me.

    "I am not going to ask you questions about this," he said frankly, but I could see that he heavily disapproved of what I was doing.

    "Don''t worry. This doesn''t affect me." It was a small white lie, and I knew he didn''t believe me.

    He pulled out a while from his bag and ced it beside me. "You have a lot of work on your hands today. Give it a rest, okay?" he asked. He rubbed my hair, mussing it up. I didn''t protest but Nash groaned and hissed something about public disys of affection.

    Sebastianughed.

    "I''ll Look at it during my break. What do you think?" I smiled.

    "Work hard and don''t forget to eat, okay?" Hemanded.

    "Yes, sir!" I responded. He walked out and that was that.

    I prepared for the questions and as I waited, my eyes flitted to the file Sebastian had left.

    I took in a cleansing breath before I opened the file. I read through the profiles, how they were each taken and murdered. My parents were right there alongside them. I found mine, as well.

    Sebastian had been kind enough to add the news clippings about each disappearance, the autopsy results, and copies of death certificates just in case.

    I went to the memories, grabbing at them and trying to recreate the moments I had spent with these people.

    There were faces I had never seen, people who had been taken and killed before me and I felt pity for them. I wondered if their families lived and what they thought. How did they survive?

    But someone was missing. Indeed, someone was missing.

    But when I thought back to the conversation I couldn''t remember him giving me a name.

    The bite marks on his wrist from the ropes, the slight panic in his eyes but the smile the casual and helpless smile as he stared at me.

    Him eating the meat, candles lit between us, his shirt white and pristine not a spec of dust on it.

    In those moments, I had been dressed in a new white dress and hadn''t thought much of it. I hadn''t understood why Alicia, who wanted me dead at all costs, yed out this fantasy of a man and woman falling in love in front of her. She was the one who wanted love she was the one who wanted to be on my seat, but as she ced those dishes in front of me, she red at me like I was the devil.

    And now I knew why.

    I knew who the aplice was. And his face was a mild blur. I ced my head on the desk and closed my eyes. How many times did I need to go over those moments to remember him in stark rity?

    At that moment, I wished I could draw. If I didn''t remember his face how would I show it to the forensic artist who would recreate an image of him?

    I had no idea.

    Nash''s phone rang and I looked up. His brow was scrunched as he listened. "What am I supposed to do about someone leaving a bag in the middle of an abandoned park?" he groaned. "I am already working on a missing person''s case. Can''t you find someone else?" he asked.

    He sounded tired.

    "Okay, okay," he said finally before hanging up.

    "New case?" I asked.

    Nash shook his head. "Man in his forties was out on a morning jog and found an abandoned side bag on the park bench. No one was around so he called the cops," he said.

    "There were a few bomb scares in the past few years, so I suppose they were okay. What was in it?" I asked.

    "Cryptic doll with a rope tied to it," he shrugged. "I think it''s some sort of a prank or art project," he sighed. But then he paused.

    "Nothing else?" I asked.

    "A note saying ''I''m back''," he said more quietly. He picked up the phone and then dialed. "Sebastian!" he eximed. "Do you mind looking at something?" he asked.

    "What are you doing?" I asked incredulously.

    Nash put up his hand to stop me. "Yeah. They found a bag with a doll and a rope around their neck. Doesn''t it sound familiar to you?" he asked.

    My eyes widened.

    "Right, you should go check it out!" Nash encouraged. The phone was cut immediately. Nash looked up at me and nodded. "Sounded like an article I read a decade back while I was in college" He bit his lip.

 Chapter 158: Creating Fear Among People

    Chapter 158: Creating Fear Among People

    "Hasn''t the killer been dormant for a number of years? Why is he suddenly acting out again?" I asked, shifting out of my seat and going to him.

    "Can''t say," Nash looked bothered by this too. "Sebastian can check out if it is indeed the BTS Killer. I''ll be happier if it is not." He sighed.

    "It''s strange that we haven''t had any deaths that rte to his style but the packagees in. It''s highly doubtful that it''s him," I reasoned.

    "The BTS Killer was an attention seeker. He liked to tip off the media and scare them. He thrives on creating fear among people. I wouldn''t be surprised if he got bored or is having a rough patch in his life and wants to relive those glorious days when people bought guns and aimed at anyone who entered their house" He shook his head. "People were living in terror while he was murdering," he imed.

    I nodded. "Right, I am sure Sebastian will figure this out," I sighed.

    "We have greater problems right now," Nash prompted. I nodded and went back to work.

    An hour passed and there was no word from Sebastian. I dared not call him while he was working, especially when he had such an enticing lead in front of him at the time.

    The remaining victims filed in one after another and they all seemed to have the same response.

    They didn''t know what I was talking about. Some seemed to have recurring dreams about being sexually vited sexually.

    "My husband and I fought and I went out for a walk," the woman from the other state said. I blinked. "We lived a little off the highway, so I hiked through our drive and wanted to clear my head."

    She took a shuddering breath. "I don''t remember much about what happened. I know for a fact that one of those farm trucks pulled up in front of me and asked me for direction. It was definitely a young girl who asked me."

    She looked agitated.

    "I''m sorry I am making you remember such a time," I said softly.

    "No. I am d. No one believed it. They thought I was lying to get out of the consequences," she sobbed. I quieted down, letting her shudder and sob for a few minutes.

    She sniffed finally and returned to telling me the story.

    "I don''t know if it was a dream or not, but the young girl asked me to show her to the nearest off-road bar," she mumbled. "It was a young-looking girl so I told her the direction and when she asked me to apany her because I looked bothered I didn''t think much about it."

    I had been right. The girl had been the lure.

    "You followed the woman into the bar?" I asked.

    She nodded. "We had a few drinks but not enough to knock me out." She wiped the sweat off her forehead. "I remember fragments of what happened and it was I still dream about it. I appeared at the side of the highway three dayster," she informed.

    "And no one reported you missing?"

    She shook her head.

    "My husband thought I had cheated and waited at home. He got a call from the hospital saying that I had been found unconscious on the street and came to see me. He didn''t believe me when I told him and he said I had cheated." She froze. "He divorced me for cheating even though I insisted that I had been sexually assaulted."

    I remained silent for a long second. "Did you have a rape kit performed on you?" I asked. "I know you were probably detoxing from the drugs these people injected in you but did the hospital perform a test on you?"

    She shook her head. "I don''t know" she whispered.

    "Would you mind giving me the name and date you were admitted? Any proof would help. Maybe we can ask someone else. We need to know everything."

    The woman nodded. She promised to email the documents for good measure and then hung up.

    I stared down at my notes and felt my anger rise.

    The live-stream was still on and the acts on the screen got progressively grotesque. I did not see a single glimpse of the little girl, but I knew she was right there in the room, listening to what was happening.

    I came out and found Nash in the office. He was picking up his stuff and preparing to leave.

    "Are you going somewhere?" I asked, perplexed. I didn''t know if there was a new lead that had to be followed.

    "Sebastian needs my help on the field," he said quickly.

    My eyes widened. "It''s confirmed?" I squeaked. That was not good.

    "I don''t know for sure yet, but Sebastian said something about needing me at the scene. He needs me to use my authority to get the package to a secure location. That''s what he said," he informed.

    I mulled over it. "Has the cybercrime department gotten a location as of yet?"

    Nash shook his head. He pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons before pushing it back into his pocket. "I sent you the number of the officer in charge. Give him a call and speak to him about what they are doing. I don''t think we have much more time on this front. Understood?" He pressed.

    I nodded.

    "Evie, you have been doing this with me for two months now. You have the capability to lead this case. Don''t doubt yourself and go ahead strong. Just take the reins and make it happen, okay?"

    "Thank you for the pep-talk," I chuckled. "I''ll handle this. Thank you for your trust," I conceded with amusement.

    "I''ll see you in a bit," he said quickly before rushing out.

    I frowned as I watched him disappear and then pulled my phone to me. I dialed the number sent to me and it took many rings before the person on the other side picked up.

    "Hi, this is Evie Marie Lewis," I introduced.

    "Ah, yes. Nash''s intern. Are you looking for a progress report?" the person on the other side asked. They sounded distressed.

    "Yes, is there anything wrong?" I asked.

    "We have been tracing their IP address, but it keeps shifting," he admitted. "It''s not a regr VPN these people are using. I think the website is rerouting the IP addresses for the privacy of the users." He huffed.

    "It''s a website where violent sexual content is posted. DO we need to subpoena them to get a hit?" I asked casually.

    He sucked in a breath. "Not possible. This is one of those shady sites. They''ll never concede. But okay, I''ll try something," he promised finally.

    In the following hours, a team of officers had congregated in the conference room with a map spread out and all the witness testimonies. We had received a hit from the cybercrime department. They had the general vicinity where the live-stream wasing from.

    "Okay, we are looking for an exposed brick building with an overgrownwn in this vicinity," I motioned to the pictures. I had managed to blur out the graphic scene for the benefit of the others.

    "The locality is old and has a lot of these. Is there anything, in particr, we are looking for?" an officer asked.

    "It could be a house where no one lives. The owner is probably old and has a younger female partner with them. Girlfriend or fianc or wide," I mentioned.

    The officers blinked.

    "It is this general locality, so I am all ears about your ideas," I prompted.

    "Because we don''t have an exact location, we might need to ask local residents about such a pair," someonemented.

    Sounded good. "Let''s regroup and head out in a while." I looked at the clock.

    I dialed Nash''s number and he picked up immediately.

    "You located them?" was the first thing he said.

    "We have the general location where these people are located. Nothing else," I admitted. "We''ve made a group of five other officers and me and we will head there to talk to a few people," I informed him.

    "Great," Nash breathed. "Listen" he interrupted suddenly before falling silent.

    "What is it?" I felt anxiety.

    "I can''te right now because I need to help Sebastian. But be careful, okay? Don''t approach the suspects if youe across them. If you find the house, do not go inside yourself, understood?" he said firmly.

    "Is this an order from Sebastian and you?" I asked.

    Nash sighed. "You have been obsessively looking at thatputer screen since morning. You only just got better, there is no need to go back to that kind of hellish ce. After they catch the suspects and bring the victims out of the room, help them and talk to them but do not go inside. Understood?" he barked.

    I remained silent for a second before realizing that Sebastian was worrying about me despite the huge workload on him.

    "Okay, I promise," I said slowly.

    And I kept the promise. We asked around the neighborhood for a couple with a big age gap but were disappointed.

    "But there is a father-daughter pair who live here," an elderlydy told us. She looked like the gossipy kind.

    "Why would you mention them?" an officer asked.

    "Oh, they are a strange pair. The girl is a nurse but she is stuck to her father in a weird way" she said.

    I frowned. "Where do they live?" I asked casually.

    The woman pointed us towards the direction.

    Lo and Behold. I knew this was the ce just looking at the exterior. So did the others.

    "Are youing in?" a younger officer asked. I shook my head.

    "I was asked to stay out," I shrugged. They nodded and left.

    It was about a few minutes and I heard little to no noise from inside the house. They were probably going through the rooms, trying to find this dungeon.

    I don''t know what came over me but I pulled out my phone from my pocket and tuned into the live-stream. The ce was in harmony. The torture still continued but it was the younger female who was doing it.

    Surprising.

    I heard footsteps approaching me and turned the stream off. I looked up and saw a dpidated-looking man a few feet away from me. He approached me, hunched down and I frowned.

    "Miss, is something happening here?" he asked.

    His voice was different very different. But I had heard hours of him speaking. I recognized it in real-life.

    I shook my head. "I don''t know. I''m just standing around waiting to find out myself." I chuckled.

    I looked down at the phone and typed a text.

    [Come out.]

    The women were definitely not inside.

 Chapter 159: A False Lead

    Chapter 159: A False Lead

    I showed my identification and ducked under the tape to enter the scene. There weren''t many officers at the site, but enough to secure the area and not allow curious passersby from stumbling into this.

    The police would try their best to contain the news of the alleged return of the killer.

    What puzzled me was why he had returned. And then I remembered the thirty-year anniversary of the first killing hade up. He must have seen the articles in the newspaper.

    If I was recalling correctly, it also meant he was sure the case was being investigated once again.

    The BTS Killer saw all the hypeing up and it refueled his wishes. And something was happening in his life something major. And he must have felt powerless. That was why he felt like ying once again.

    To him, it was time to start the game once again. That was why he started rmunicating.

    He had sent the publishing house that printed the story a jarring letter. That was what made me speed up the investigation.

    In the letter, he imed that he had killed another victim, previously unknown, and given a specific date. It could have beenughed off as a prank, but the letter also enclosed several pictures of the victim''s bodies in various positions.

    They looked like crime-scene photos. The eerie part? The victim had been taken away in an ambnce before anyone could take pictures of the scene. And I knew that this was an original.

    The BTS Killer took pictures of his victims as trophies. He would look at them in his most vulnerable moments to relive the murders and feel powerful once again.

    Also enclosed was a photocopy of the victim''s driver''s license which was missing from the crime scene.

    The thing about it was, the publishing house was manic. They wanted to publish more stories, they wanted to create noise around this. But the police didn''t allow it.

    It was strange, but I understood.

    How did he get away with all those murders? One of the most notorious serial killers in the history of the city was back in the crowd and people would wonder if he was hiding within the crowd. If he was the person sitting next to them.

    That would be the thing that scared people.

    And BTS Killer loved that. It was part of his ego. He loved being in the spotlight.

    An officer knelt down beside me to inspect the bag. "Dr. Butler, why would they send it here? In such a public ce?" I looked at the young boy and was reminded of the early days when Evie would ask questions.

    I smiled. "He enjoys knowing the havoc they are creating in themunity and the police. He is saying that he is still here and he is ying with the police. He is saying that we will never catch him," I exined.

    "That sounds terrifying," he whispered. "My mom was a young girl when he was on the prowl. She told me that they didn''t even talk to their neighbors, fearing that they would catch the eye of the killer." The boy shuddered.

    I put on my gloves and unzipped the bag. Inside it was a box within which was a doll with a noose around its neck. The rope was attached to the pipe like he had done when he ughtered the whole family, kids, and all.

    I could tell that it was made to look like the mother. The reddish-brown hair, the blue eyes, and even the custom-made clothes fit perfectly with the crime scene images I had received.

    Everything was in staggering rity.

    I pushed around the frilly stuff and found an ID card for another victim.

    I knew in that moment that the sender really wanted us to know that he was the BTK Killer and that he really wasmunicating again.

    I made a call to Nash immediately.

    [I''m back.] the note read. I flipped it over and felt a smile tugging at my lips.

    I didn''t give Nash information over the phone because I knew there were ears all around me. So, I bid my time as I pulled up the crime-scene photographs from the first case and looked at them closely.

    Nash arrived within half an hour.

    "Traffic was thin. I might have broken somews to get here!" he chirped, looking beyond excited.

    "Didn''t you have another case to solve?" I asked perturbed. "Come here," I said finally.

    He walked closer and put on his gloves before kneeling down beside me. "Evie has it handled. I am sure they will find and save the little girl within tonight," Nashmented confidently.

    "Great," I said quickly. "But you need to see this," I prompted as I picked up the doll and ced it in his hand.

    He turned it around and frowned.

    "This is how he killed one of the victims, right?" he asked.

    I nodded. "The sender put everything in stark rity," I said. I showed him the picture.

    Nash gasped. "From the pattern of the shirt to the pose even the open eyes. They have it down to a T," Nash analyzed. "We should send it to theb for prints, right?"

    "BTK didn''t send this," I interrupted.

    Nash startled. "What are you saying? This looks exactly like someone who was at the scene recreated it!" he argued.

    "Everything is the same except for the knot on the pipe." My voice was just a whisper.

    I zoomed in on the picture and showed it to him. Nash inspected it closely before shaking his head.

    "It looks exactly the same!" he protested.

    I agreed. "It does. But from what you can see in the picture"

    "What are you trying to say?" Nash asked, now intrigued.

    "The picture only shows part of the knot, and that is how it is recreated, but the actual knot is aplex knot used for fishing and police-work," I grinned.

    "You think the sender is not the real killer?" Nash hissed.

    "It''s not. But your next question will be: how did they see the crime scene then?"

    Nash nodded. "Crime-scene photos have not been released, right?"

    "No, they never released the photographs because the victim''s youngest son is still alive." I took out the note and showed it to him. "Does the paper look familiar to you?" I asked casually.

    Nash looked at the script for a generic moment, flipping it around and analyzing the writing before he froze. "Holy fucking shit. Is this it''s the same paper!"

    He looked around to see if anyone else was looking. No one seemed to have noticed.

    "But how would the aplice from the Elegant Butcher case have the ID card for one of the victims?"

    "That''s what I am trying to figure out. I need to go back to the files and see who should have the ID card," I exined. "But the crime scene photographs look so simr that I think they were taken from our records."

    "If it is the aplice, he has inside knowledge. But why would he do this? Some weird way to help us solve cases and rid the city of other serial killers?" Nash analyzed.

    "No. It happened right after we visited Alicia. And this man knows how good Evie and I are at our job. He knew we will figure out his identity soon and he is stalling us. He is not helping us in the least"

    "He is piling more cases on our te so that we have to push back finding out who he is," Nash finished.

    "This also means that he is around us. It means that he is easy to find." That was the logical progression.

    "But he thinks he is clever, that he is fooling us," Nash said. I could hear the awe in his voice.

    "I am surprised by how well he has portrayed the BTS Killer and how he does things," I acknowledged. "I am not above this guy helping us solve a case," I admitted.

    "You think he knows who the killer is?" Nash asked.

    I shook my head. "He is a psychopath. He has the same wavelength as the BTS Killer but he thinks himself superior. He might not know the identity of this man, but if the press finds out and circtes the news that the killer is back the original killer will feel at a loss," I exined.

    Nash grinned. "The spotlight will be taken away from him. He wanted to be seen as someone equal to Jack the Ripper but if someone steals his thunder, he would try his best to establish himself."

    "And when criminals get anxious, they make mistakes," I prompted.

    "So, you will be luring out the real killer?" Nash repeated.

    "Yes. It will help solve the cold case but it will also help me get closer to this aplice." I ced the doll down and tapped at the picture. After cing everything, I stood up.

    "I''ll be delivering the back to the forensics department myself. No one else can touch it, understood?" I ordered. The officers made their way and I went into the car with Nash.

    Before I could start the car, I turned to him. "Remember, the real facts of our conversation and spections stay between us. No emails or reports will go out to our seniors. Neither will the officers be informed of the progress." I was not above pleading.

    "Is there something bothering you?" Nash asked frankly.

    "There is something at the back of my mind that keeps nagging me, but I can''t grasp onto it. Seeing this bag has made it worse," I admitted.

    "Get some sleep tonight. I am sure it will help you out."

 Chapter 160: A Grain of Sand

    Chapter 160: A Grain of Sand

    "Ah, I asked Evie not to enter the dungeon," Nash informed me. I nced at him, looking away from the road for a split second.

    "Thank you," I replied quietly. "I don''t think she will listen to you, though." I shook my head. "I see how she has been reacting recently and I get more worried."

    Nash was staring at me. "I thought she was getting better" he trailed off.

    "She was getting so much better. She wasbatting her fears and magical thinking really well and her sessions with the therapists were going great, but now I am doubting letting her interning with the police," I admitted.

    "How so?" Nash asked. "She has been excellent on the field and in the interrogation room. This is invaluable information and she has been so calm throughout every situation."

    I shook my head. "You''re the Head of Behavioral Studies, but you need to remember you analyze motives and the like. You don''t know how good Evie is at suppressing her emotions. She can pretend to be a chirpy little bird even if she is having sleep paralysis demons chasing her down the hallway. That is what she is like that is her coping mechanism." I knew I was ranting, but I didn''t know who to tell.

    I was worried.

    "And what kind of behavior is she exhibiting?" Nash enquired. "I want to match our notes. I spend a lot of time with her at work, so I could help!"

    I gripped the steering wheel. "Disregard for advice or power structure. Lack of fear and confrontational behavior. Recklessness," I ended.

    Nash stiffened. "She does leap into action," he stated.

    "The first case she worked with me we found a serial killer who wanted to kill themselves. She figured that out herself and her reactions I remember the hatred in her eyes. She almost broke every bone in the suspect''s body after chasing him down a crowded street."

    Nash startled. "That is dangerous behavior!" he eximed.

    "She has never done it again and I have seen her vulnerable, but I think she feels cornered. She was finally feeling relieved that there was no one out to hurt her or the people she loved, and when someone clicks an intimate photograph of us, and she she pretends it is okay that she is level-headed."

    "She went into Alicia''s interrogation room, didn''t she?" Nash asked.

    "I let it slide. It could be cathartic and she would see that no one held power over her. But when she came out she looked scared. But I don''t think she knew that." I felt my eyes heat and blinked to keep the tears at bay.

    "She kept looking at that video obsessively. I know what you mean," Nash whispered.

    "I just want to catch this guy and give her some peace. I think we need to increase the intensity and frequency of her therapy sessions again," I admitted. I felt defeated.

    Maybe, I wasn''t strong enough to back her up and reassure her. Maybe I could have been a little more intelligent and seen through the plots and caught the guy before he came back to haunt Evie.

    The rational part of my brain knew there was no way to ensure these things. But I had turned into an emotional man. There were high-stakes in this situation.

    We pulled into to the station''s parking lot and I took the bag with me.

    I went straight to the forensics department and ced the bag on the table.

    "Dr. Butler, you brought in evidence today?" the analyst asked.

    "Yes, it''s for a case I am working on. I needplete privacy in this case, understood?" My voice held a veiled warning.

    The analyst blinked and then nodded. "Do you need it done right now?" he asked.

    "Are you working on something at the moment? We have a fresh trail on a cold case a serial killer," I imed.

    "It''s going to be hard, Dr. Butler. I can''t start analyzing this before tomorrow," he said with the scratch of his head.

    Nash peered from behind me and voiced his opinion. "What are you working on currently?" he asked casually.

    "A burry case," he responded. "The report is due tomorrow morning," he gave an apologetic smile.

    I sighed. "Can I ask you to do this on an emergency basis? I''ll treat you to dinner for your help." I knew I was known as the icy boss, but I really needed it done. I was reminded of how Evie asked me to be polite to everyone, so I tried her method out this time.

    I could see the analyst''s eyes widen and he nodded slowly.

    "Are you going to give me a name for the case or what I am looking for?" he asked.

    "Anything. It''s fresh off the site and untouched at that," I informed him.

    "Okay, I''ll ask someone to cover for me and write the report. I''ll get this done. Will you be overseeing?" he asked.

    I nodded. "Yes, it''s a high-security case. I know you are the top analyst in the department, so I require your absolute secrecy in this matter."

    The analyst nodded enthusiastically. He snapped on his gloves and looked at the bag.

    "Looks like a generic bag used in the early nies. Nothing special. Tags have been removed," he spoke as he inspected. "The wear and tear show that this is something from the household of the killer." His eyes gleamed with excitement.

    "Does that mean something?" I asked, hoping it would be of use.

    "Well, we can''t get fingerprints because it looks cleaned down but the inside we can check it." He pulled out the box inside and took a magnifying ss and torchlight to look inside the bag.

    It was five or so minutes before his brows scrunched. "It looks thoroughly cleaned out but I got a single grain of sand," he said.

    I breathed in relief. "We can estimate where it is from, right?" I questioned.

    The analyst nodded. He put the grain of sand on a Petri dish and put it aside carefully. "We can say the ce from where this sand is within a fifty-kilometer radius."

    "Wait. This sand could be from long ago, right?" Nash asked.

    The analyst shook his head. He pointed to the exterior of the bag. "Look at this. You can see the distressed threads and theck of color, right?"

    Nash and I nodded. "But the interior of the bag is in very good condition. The material on the inside doesn''t react poorly to long-term wear and tear, but the exterior, though for rough use can''t handle rough scrubbing. The discoloration is from bleach or other cleaning substances. The interior is better because the cleaning didn''t affect the cloth lining." He pointed to the frayed stitches on the inside. "Only the stitches that stand out are worn."

    He gave us a victorious smirk.

    "So, the killer cleaned it inside out after use but this grain of sand remained?"

    The analyst nodded. "Maybe it''s a particle from inside their house and they didn''t suspect it is inside. It should give us a good idea about the neighborhood the bag is from," he said pleasantly.

    "I don''t understand," Nash admitted.

    "Theposition of the soil differs every fifty kilometers or so. With the help of geology and forensic sciences, we can pinpoint the location of soil residue. But the soil structure keeps changing over the years. It changes about every other decade just slightly," I exined. "You should look at more than what goes on inside the interrogation room."

    "Finally, the technology is catching up with evidence, huh?" Nash asked, fascinated.

    "There is nothing else in the bag. It has been thoroughly cleaned out," the analyst said aloud. He moved on to the box and then paused. He looked up at me in awe.

    "This" he trailed off.

    "What about it?" Nash asked.

    "Uh is this a coincidence or" he stopped and looked around. When he saw no one around, he spoke up again. "The box, it''s the same generic one that Miss Lewis brought over, right?"

    Nash choked.

    "Is it evident?" I asked.

    "It could be a coincidence but hard toe across such a thing in our industry," the analyst admitted. He opened the box and looked inside. "I''ll run these for DNA and prints." He picked up the letter. "Definitely the same guy." He sighed. "The quality of the paper is the same, too. What is this? Another helping hand from the weird person?" he asked.

    He was starting to hyperventte.

    "Don''t worry. If you don''t say who it is, neither will we. It''s a secret investigation. Do you understand?" I emphasized.

    He nodded vehemently.

    Nash''s phone rang. "Nash speaking," he spoke into it immediately. There was speaking from the other side.

    My attention was on the analyst who was feeding in the information into theputer and looking from prints on everything inside the bag. I didn''t have much hope, but I was banking on the aplice getting desperate and making a mistake.

    The grain of sand looked like a small thing, but it could give me a general locality I needed to look at.

    But I noticed that Nash was too silent. I turned to him. The phone hung at his side and his eyes held an indescribable expression.

    "What''s wrong?" I asked.

    "Uh, the task force we sent to catch the suspects for the abduction case asked everyone in the locality and spotted a house that matched the description. The residents were the exact profile, too."

    "Okay, so?" I prompted.

    "They went inside the house and it looked like it had been abandoned. There was a basement but no one was inside"

    I could see that he was rambling. There was a point to this ramble and I needed to shake him out of it.

    "Nash, get to the point. What is the conclusion?" I asked. "They didn''t catch the suspects. What is the next course of action?"

    "I don''t know" he whispered.

    My brows scrunched up in confusion. "What does that mean? Bring the task force back and regroup," I advised.

    "I can''t." He was silent for a long time. "Evie stayed outside like I had asked her to. While they were searching inside, she texted the team that she had seen the suspect. Uh they can''t find her."

    I was confused to say the least. "Can''t find who? The perpetrator? Did they escape?" Evie would not approach the perpetrator and try to take him down, right? She was reckless but she knew I didn''t want her in danger. She wouldn''t do that. That was why she texted her team toe out. But how did the perpetrator vanish?

    And then Nash''s answer came, making the world crumble around me.

    "Evie. Evie''s gone."

 Chapter 161: The Real Case

    Chapter 161: The Real Case

    "Are you kidding me?" I hissed, running my hand through my hair.

    Nash shook his head stiffly. "No, they can''t find her. They came out right after they read the message but they couldn''t see her anywhere," he said. There was no calmness in his voice. I peered deeply into his eyes and saw that he was being truthful.

    Which meant, Evie really was missing.

    I pulled out my cellphone and checked through my messages before calling.

    Nothing. It didn''t even go to her voice mail. I waited as the phone beeped until it cut off, no monotonous voice telling me that the user was busy or out of range. The call just didn''t connect.

    I looked around the room helplessly and found all the analysts staring at me. They peered out of their little cubicles and only then did I understand that I had been chanting under my breath this whole time.

    "Sebastian, let''s go. Let''s try to find her, okay?" he said softly. He ced his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off.

    I turned to look at the people in the room. "Who can track thest location of a phone?" I asked. "I am not asking for Find my Phone sort of location, I am asking for where the nearest tower was and what happened to her number."

    There was silence. My heart dropped. "Who knows?" I yelled.

    From the corner of my eyes, I could see someone raise their hand. I turned to them quickly.

    "Take her number," I prompted quickly, hovering over him and looking at hisputer screen. I heard footsteps approach me followed by a sigh.

    "Sebastian, they are checking the location where she was and the footage from the car to see where she went. Don''t worry, we will find her. Maybe she followed the man to the actual ce," Nash assured in a soothing voice.

    "Don''t try to influence me. Those tricks don''t work on me," I growled.

    Nash blinked and stepped back. "I am just" his phone rang. He picked it up and pulled it to his ears without haste. And I knew it was about Evie.

    "What did they say?" I asked frantically.

    "They found her phone smashed. It was a few meters from the police car she rode in. It''s an old neighborhood so there were no cameras on the streets either."

    "And the ck box in the car?" I asked. There was still hope.

    "Showed an older-looking man walking up and then nothing. They are bringing the files over to analyze right now."

    I looked at my watch and frowned. "We need to find her by the end of the night. If it is the perpetrator" I didn''t even want to think about it.

    "Stop!" Nash gritted out through his teeth. "You still need to solve your case," he emphasized.

    I looked at him suspiciously. "I can find her sitting here," I bit out.

    I went back to the original analyst and saw him hyperventting. "What''s wrong with you?" I asked.

    "Uh they kidnapped an officer?" he whispered. He looked thoroughly scared.

    "You''re safe inside the station." What else could I say? Should I tell him that the guy could be in the same room and we wouldn''t have a clue? "And someone else took Evie. It''s not that guy," I grunted.

    And then the notion seeped into my bones.

    The timing it was strange.

    It was not unusual for so many cases to be thrown at us at the same time. But when the aplice was involved, coincidences should have been sparse.

    He told Evie that they would meet soon.

    Evie started a kidnapping case and found the solution easily as she should. She went to apprehend the criminal without Nash the first time it had happened and she disappeared.

    On the other hand, Nash was called in to help me. He knew nothing about the case but he was the one who had been called first.

    What was more important? Saving a kidnapped child or look at an abandoned bag? The priorities were wrong in this case.

    And they knew that I would be called when BTS was involved. Like they wanted me preupied. But they also wanted me distracted by the pressure.

    Why?

    Which was the real case and how was it all connected?

    I looked toward the analyst.

    "Get the geographical location quickly. I''ll look at the footage when it arrives," I whispered. I sprinted to Nash''s office, him hot on my heels.

    "Don''t you think it''s strange?" I asked as I threw the door open.

    I opened Evie''sputer and clicked on the link to the website. The live-stream was still on, but something was strange.

    I dragged the cursor over the previous minutes and finally understood what was happening.

    "Evie was right to keep looking," I whispered.

    "What are you talking about?" Nash imed, his voice raised.

    "It''s a rey," I imed. "Watch." I dragged the cursor over the minutes and showed him the changes.

    "Damn it!" Nash swore. "And they knew the VPN or whatever they were using to change their address would lead us to that location." His eyes widened. "You think it was a set-up, don''t you?" he asked.

    "Why would they repeat the stream?" I asked. "You watched the videos, too, right?" I asked.

    Nash nodded. "But not as close as Evie." His eyes fell on her notepad and he flipped it open. He read through the notes and realization dawned.

    "The method of abduction!" he eximed.

    "What about it?" I asked quietly.

    "This serial rapist has a method of abducting his victims. He stalks some of them and the daughter brings them in or he picks up stranded or women who are vulnerable on a whim," he said.

    I shook my head. "He was hanging around his residence."

    Nash nodded. "He was waiting for the police to search for his house. He couldn''t have known Evie would be there, right?"

    "He shouldn''t have known the police would be there in the first ce. He cleared everything out of his house and waited outside to see what would happen when the police found the house empty. It was a game but he knew the police woulde" I trailed off.

    "You think it was a trap? It can''t be!" he said quietly.

    "I have a feeling that it is the aplice. When the case was assigned to Evie, he got wind that she was working on a kidnapping case," I tried to paint the story. "He found the person out and approached the perpetrator and helped me move bases. That''s why the house was empty and clean. He wanted Evie outside"

    "But he couldn''t have known Evie would be vulnerable. I would have" and Nash paused. "That''s why I was assigned to the bag" he trailed off. "Which also means that they were ready to kill or maim all the officers to take Evie, right?"

    I nodded. "He was sure he could take them down. An old man, no matter how evil can''t take down a woman as strong as Evie. She''s not a sixteen-year-old scared girl anymore. She has on-field training. There were multiple people helping out that is why the stream is reloading." I pointed to the screen. "The female usually tortures the victims even when the male is not in the room, right? So, she was there."

    "And they had drugs with them. That is the MO, right?" Nash ended my stream of thought. "It also means the aplice was in the vicinity, waiting to back up."

    "And he was not afraid to kill the officers to get his hands on Evie."

    Nash sank down on the floor and I watched. "When is the ck box footage arriving?" I asked harshly.

    "In a few minutes," Nash imed.

    I looked at the board at the corner of the room, all the spections and profiling information right there on the board. What did I know about this guy?

    Calm.

    Godplex.

    Likes to influence others.

    He got crazy when he found out we had visited Alicia and he wanted to take Evie before people found him. He wanted to move her to a secure and secret location until Stockholm syndrome set in. He wasn''t above killing people anymore.

    That was how desperate he was.

    That was why he made mistakes.

    But how did he muster up so much information about the BTS Killer?

    I stared at the board until I was sure a hole would appear on it.

    "The footage is here," Nash whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts. I jerked towards him and nodded numbly.

    "You need to snap out of it," Nash hissed. "Stop freaking out, Sebastian. Stop freaking out and think, damnit!"

    I am sure my blood boiled at that moment and I turned to re at him. "What are you doing, sitting there and sulking? You haven''t helped in the least? I left her in your care and you couldn''t even keep her safe!"

    Nash''s eyes widened and I saw a sh of guilt in his eyes. I should have felt guilt for talking to him that way, but I felt nothing. I felt empty

    Like an empty can that rattled without emotion.

    The fear had permeated through my bodypletely.

    He wouldn''t kill her, right? No, he wouldn''t kill her.

    But he would do unspeakable things to her to break her mind and cave in.

    I had to find her before that.

    But how.

    How?

    An officer entered the office timidly, his eyes shing towards me. I leaped towards him and snatched the card from him and gripped it in my hand.

    I wasted no time to slide it into the machine and watch it. What I saw was purely horrifying and not rming at the same time.

    And I didn''t know what to think about it.

 Chapter 162: Only Silence

    Chapter 162: Only Silence

    "Miss, is something happening here?" I heard. The crack of his voice was like any other older man''s, but the smoothness of his tone was jarring. He was not curious in the least. Instead, he was fishing for information talking to Evie to catch her attention.

    I could hear Evie take pause. The slight shuffling of her feet as her sneakers scraped against the road. I imagined the wheels turning in her head as she put the dots together.

    She recognized him.

    "I don''t know. I''m just standing around waiting to find out myself," she said with a chuckle. It was strained but I could sense that she was not looking directly at him. This was probably when she sent out the text. She would try to keep him in that ce until the officers came out.

    Possibly take him in as a witness and get him to speak in an interrogation.

    "Youngdy, you shouldn''t stand in abandoned ces like this. There are lots of dangerous people walking around the streets these days."

    There was silence for a second. "Sir, do you live around here? I saw the police people asking around, too." Her voice was lower, almost conspiratorial.

    "Why? Do you want to ask me questions?" he asked, sounding amused.

    "I''m an amateur writer. I heard some weird things on the police radio and followed them. Do you know who lives here?"

    Three seconds ticked by. "The guy who lives here he was a plumber. Quite famous in the area too. Don''t know what happened to him but he moved away a couple of days ago," he said truthfully.

    "He lived alone?" Evie asked. "What''s his name?"

    The man started tough. "Missy, you don''t need to pretend anymore," he barked.

    And then everything went silent.

    I couldn''t even hear the sound of struggle. Mostly, ck boxes picked up on such sounds. Even if there were three people trying to overpower her, she would at least make some noise, right?

    I pressed pause and turned to Nash. "Get this to the forensics team and augment the sound, will you?" I asked.

    I eyed the officer who was still standing and beckoned him forward. "How is the house positioned?" I enquired.

    "Dr. Butler, the house is positioned in the corner. So, Miss Lewis might not have seen someone creepy up from the side alley and ambush her," he mentioned.

    I nodded. "By theck of noise, they used some very strong sedative to knock her out. Do you have an ID on the person who owns the house?"

    The officer shook his head. "Not yet, but we are looking into it."

    I hummed in acknowledgment. "Run a search on all the properties owned by the perpetrator and his family, alongside any recent workces or storage units that they have visited in the recent past." I clicked on the other tab and looked at the exposed wall. "The exposed white brick wall can also be a wallpaper used to replicate the pattern from before. So, don''t just look for what you think the building looks like, okay?"

    I scrubbed my face with my hands.

    Nash spoke up from beside me. "I''ll call the cyber-crime department and ask them to search through the website and the dark web to see if any footage of Evie''s has been uploaded as of yet."

    I nced at him and saw him push himself off the floor and go to his desk.

    Within seconds, several calls were made.

    "There will be no footage posted," I said calmly. Nash lifted his head to look at me. "He doesn''t want to give Evie away and he will not share any part of Evie with the world."

    "The aplice?" Nash asked, his voice quivering.

    "He''s allowing this serial rapist duo to take Evie because he has ns to help her remain unscathed. He will use the other kidnapped girls and test Evie." And that was what I was scared of.

    "That also means that there is no way he would allow them to stay at a ce owned by the family, right?" Nash concluded.

    I was unsure about that. "It would be hard for him to acquire a space of his own and sponsor the duo, don''t you think? It is likely that the location of this building she is being held at is close to the house."

    "Or they used a car."

    "Which would mean it was meticulously nned. And how would he be able to meticulously n this?" I thought. "Very few people know the details of the BTS case. Even if he did see the folders, there might not have been enough time for him to go into the details and get everything in ce to send to us." I was thinking out loud.

    "The ID he sent how does one slip out evidence from cold cases dating back to thirty years? They should be in the police headquarters, right? And very few people have ess to it." Nash knew the procedure better than me.

    "That is what keeps nagging at me. Something is amiss, and I can''t figure out what," I hissed.

    "We need to look at this case with a fresh pair of eyes," Nash said quietly. "You need to ce the Elegant Butcher case files beside the Magician case file, McCain''s case and Carol''s case to get a better picture, right?" he said.

    "But there is a strange inference between the aplice and criminals, too." I paused and turned to him. "I am sorry for snapping at you. I know you did your best I just can''t think properly." I gulped.

    "You should go home and rest, Sebastian. You are not in a state to work and solve mysteries." I shook my head in protest. "You look like you are about to copse or bomb the building!" he gasped.

    "You know I will do no such thing," I said firmly. "I just need to lock myself into a room and figure this out, okay?"

    "I can''t allow you to lock yourself in."

    I red at him openly. "Then what do you want me to do? Sit at home and think about everything that I could have done to prevent this? It makes no sense" I whispered. "I can''t go home I can''t go home"

    "Nothing will happen to her, Sebastian. You have to trust"

    I scoffed. "Trust? What do I trust in? Trust that somehow my immense love for her will protect her from all harm? I''d be a fool to think that. The only thing that is reassuring me is the aplice''s motive. He wants Evie and he won''t kill her."

    Nash pped his hand against the desk. "And that is the first step. No matter what happens to her, we will find her and we will make sure she recovers."

    I shook my head vehemently. "There is only so much a person can handle. And I think Evie is standing on the edge. I have to find her before anything happens to her."

    I felt the moisture roll down my cheeks. In the deafening silence of the room, I was sure that I could hear the teardrop, umte at the tip of my chin, and then plop down and bounce off the ground.

    Everything was in vivid detail. Everything was so sharp that it was hard to concentrate. I sucked in a deep breath and thought about where to start.

    Lists.

    Lists always helped people get a bearing, right?

    I opened Evie''s notepad and started to write out every lead I needed to pursue.

    "The grain of sand is being analyzed."

    "I need to find out the list of evidence found at each crime scene and especially the ID card we received."

    "Look at all rted cases with a fresh light."

    And that seemed to be everything.

    I sagged. "Time to start," I whispered to myself and sprinted to my little office room.

    I threw the door open and pulled out all the files on the BTS killer case that was avable to me.

    I had pictures and lists of everything from the ID cards and ropes found on the scene. To the letters the media houses received. There were also some handwritten notes that I hadn''t paid much attention to, but now I would need to look at them closely to see if I was missing something.

    The victim''s ID? It had not been found in the victim''s house. The family might have recovered itter on. I had to check for that.

    So, for the first time in my life, I picked up the phone and called the family of the victim. The victim''s mother, a woman who was now in herte seventies picked up the call.

    I mustered up all the human decency I had learned from Evie and spoke to her as a detective should. I hoped and prayed that I didn''t sound like a man possessed. I hoped and prayed that I didn''t sound like I had lost the most precious thing in my life.

    Because that was exactly how I felt.

    And in the half-hour conversation about the victim''s life and the circumstances, I found out more about the person than I had ever wanted to know. I imagined Evie in her ce and I felt the bile rise in my throat. I couldn''t stop the woman from speaking.

    Until finally, she cried and told me what I wanted to know. Her daughter didn''t like to take pictures after her teenage years. The mother had searched far and wide for some pictures but never got her hands on them. Even the identity card hadn''t been recovered.

    I slid down to the floor as I looked at the files that surrounded me. Another mystery unfolded in front of me. The police didn''t have the victim''s ID, neither did the family.

    Then how did the aplice get his hands on this crucial piece?

 Chapter 163: The Inevitable Connection

    Chapter 163: The Inevitable Connection

    Breathe, Sebastian.

    I had to remind myself.

    There were a few things that I needed to think about. If the police force had no clue who the BTS Killer was, neither should the aplice. Even if he did have connections within the police force, he wouldn''t know the answer to an unsolved mystery.

    This could only mean one thing he had a personal connection with the BTS Killer and knew from the very beginning who this person was. He used evidence from the killer''s crimes to divert our attention from him.

    Why did he want to inspire others tomit crimes? What could have made him think of something so twisted? I had never considered that. Adding in the love for the football cap he always donned on and the belief that he had a male figure in his life who influenced him greatly could it be that this male figure was the BTS Killer?

    With the knowledge of the crimes and watching this close influence indulging in crimes, he might have thought it was liberating. But that didn''t exin why he would give out evidence that could lead to the capture of said influence.

    I could only think of one thing.

    Dissatisfaction.

    I stood up from my perch on the floor and opened the door and walked down the hallway. I peered into Nash''s office and he looked up immediately.

    "Help me wheel in her board," I asked him.

    He nced between the board and me before nodding reluctantly.

    As we walked back down the hallway, I saw others stare at me. A mixture of pity and worry shed in their eyes and I didn''t understand their reaction.

    "Why are they looking at me like that?" I asked Nash.

    He sighed. "They think you are boarding yourself inside the room to grieve. And I think it''s a good thing. Your face shows your devastation and it is the best cover for us to keep investigating." He patted my back in encouragement.

    He wheeled in the board and looked at the pile of papers scattered on the floor.

    "Why did you want the board?" he asked finally when the door was closed behind me.

    "The victim''s ID card was not found at the crime scene. I called the victim''s mother and spoke to her at length. The family doesn''t have the ID either."

    Nash rubbed his finger on his chin. "So, the aplice got his hand on the evidence and victim''s property." His eyes widened. "Now that you mention it It would make sense if they were rted. The high intelligence and the possibility that the BTS killer is in a high position in the government would align with the aplice having someone in the same positions, right?"

    I nodded briefly. "But we can only guess the BTS killer is a person in power right now" I shook my head. I plopped down on the floor and spread out the paperwork on the victims.

    "The killer was closely looking at his victims, stalking them until he knew they were alone in their home. That means he was in a position where he needed to frequent these localities and possibly had ess to the interior of the houses."

    Nash closed his eyes, thinking of something. He picked up the file on the first victim and flipped through it. "Definitely. He knew the victim''s house and how to navigate through it. That is why the detectives at the time thought it was the cable guy or plumber who worked in the house before."

    "But this killer also knew to wipe down all evidence of his. Even though DNA was not a thing when he started killing, he made sure not to leave anything behind apart from what he used on the victim. Like he knew the technology would catch up to the evidence."

    "And the police never suspected that it could be someone in their own circle," Nash gasped. "You really think he is a police officer?" he asked, his voice slightly raised.

    I blinked, not answering him in words. "Maybe he was not a police officer then, but in the police academy or in suspension." I raised my brow.

    "You are saying that the periods of time he was on those killing sprees were when he was triggered into feeling powerless, right?" he whispered.

    "Exactly." I picked out the next files.

    "Look here he came back after a long hiatus. But there was something very different this time," I whispered. The thoughts were slowly forming in my head. I was slowly putting the dots together.

    "The second killing when he came back?" Nash asked. He looked through the case and shook his head. "I don''t understand."

    "Remember when he killed the whole family? The children included?" I asked. "In his first spree, he had no mercy if someone else walked in and saw him with the victim. He ruthlessly killed all of them." I pointed to the pictures of the little kids he had murdered alongside the mother. "But when he encountered the same thing in his second spree, he locked the child in the bathroom and still killed the mother." I pointed to the file Nash was holding in his hand.

    Nash dropped down beside me and took a nk sheet of paper and started to build a timeline. "From the time he stopped his first spree to the second spree he could have had a child and he didn''t want to kill a child because it reminded him of his son" And then he scribbled some more and gasped. "The same child would be in the age-range that we suspect the aplice is in!"

    "Bravo, you have figured this out." I couldn''t help but smile. "But we can''t stop at that. It could have been that a close family member gave birth. The aplice could be a nephew or someone in the family, too."

    "And that would exin why the child would have ess to the victim''s things" Nash trailed off. "Is there anything else?" he asked, excited.

    I nodded. "There are these notes," I flipped to the photocopies I had received. "The letters to the media and police force that were handwritten they look like they were not written by an adult. The trepid way they wrote this person was not confident and was scared that the killer would get caught because of him."

    Nash looked at the writings, dragging his hand over the prints.

    "It would also exin why the aplice went to so much trouble to erase all traces of him in those packages. Going the extra mile to put disinfectant and remove everything from the box?" His eyes gleamed with excitement.

    "Then, we have a profile of who it could be, right? We are looking for someone who was in the force or was working to be in there had many failures but eventually had enough power over people that he didn''t need to kill to exert power over others."

    "The way he tied up the victims and sexually assaulted them it was always about power power over a woman. Maybe the BTS killer had a mother who was dominating or a wife who was the breadwinner of the household. The pressure to be more manly could have turned his fantasies of tying up and sexually engaging with women violent. He wantedplete control over the female body."

    "So, the first spree he was financially inferior to his significant other and he couldn''t handle it. He wanted to take back some form of control."

    "And then he finally got a job that satiated his financial and power-rted needs. He also had a child who depended on him. He felt powerful, so he didn''t need to assault and murder women anymore. But something happened again in his life and he felt stripped of his masculinity."

    "I''ll personally make a list of people who were patrolling officers at the time, specifically in the areas of the victims and or those going to the police academy. I''ll narrow it down by people who faced problems or were suspended at the time."

    "No one should know about this." I closed my eyes as the suspicion overflowed in my veins. "We cannot have anyone find out. Do you understand?" I whispered.

    "You can trust me. My priority is to find Evie and if we can use this information to get her back, I will dly be uwful and fish for information where I shouldn''t." I could see the determination in his eyes.

    "Actually, on top of that list, give me another list with those in high government positions with close family members within the age range of the aplice."

    "I will do that. Also, I will follow up with the prosecutor about the list of clients Collins has seen in the past decade. There should be a good number of important people there who we could consider."

    I breathed in relief. "Tell me as soon as you find out."

    "The result for the grain of sand wille out by morning and we are looking through all the properties from the kidnapping suspect''s family and friends. We will get a hit soon, don''t worry."

    He waved goodbye and left the room, leaving me to my misery. The list seemed to have been solved. And I had nothing else to do at that moment but to wait for the results.

    It gripped my heart and wouldn''t let go.

    Questions of what-if floated in my mind, clouding my judgment. For a second, I wondered if I should give in to the fog and forget that I was anything other than a man who needed to grieve the absence of his fianc. To be a simple man who may never see the woman he loved with all his heart ever again.

    I dared not think too deeply. But I couldn''t help.

 Chapter 164: Her Biggest Power

    Chapter 164: Her Biggest Power

    I didn''t catch a wink of sleep that night. Iy down on the carpeted floor of the office and stared at the ceiling. There was a crack on it and as my eyes moved over the concrete, my eyes flitted back to it every few seconds.

    Around five in the morning, the door to the office creaked open. I heard the shuffling at the end and looked towards the sound to find Nash trying to gauge if I was asleep or not.

    "Got something?" I asked. My voice was hoarse and dry. I gulped down saliva and pushed myself into a sitting position.

    "Yeah. I made the lists. I''ve sent it to you already," he whispered. It seemed like he didn''t want to disrupt me, but that was exactly what I needed.

    "Did you find anyone suspicious in that list?" I found myself asking. I knew it was not possible for him to understand that from the simple records made by the government. But I still asked. I needed to talk and divert my mind.

    "Nothing yet. I called the prosecutorst night and he is still looking at who the clients are. Collins refuses to open his mouth and with the court hearing getting closer, I think his backer is making sure he is not indicted." Nash sighed.

    "I understand. Just let me know, okay?" What else could I say?

    "When was thest time you ate, Sebastian?" Nash''s voice was full of concern and I found it amusing that he would think about me when his partner was in a fatal situation.

    I shrugged. I didn''t remember really. And I didn''t feel hungry. At all.

    Nash shook his head. "That bottle of water has been full since yesterday afternoon," he hissed. "And you haven''t had any food. You know very well what happens when you don''t give your body enough energy to work."

    "You don''t need to tell me that. I know biology. I can go without food and water for two days." I may or may not have considered doing that. How could I eat or drink when I didn''t even know for sure if Evie was getting any of those? I couldn''t very well lock myself up in a cold and dark room and tie myself up, but this was the least I could do.

    To think I had promised to share her pain and joy and I was not even capable of such a simple task.

    I thought back to what Evie had told me once no one really felt another person''s pain. They only felt their own interpretation of it. They felt it because of guilt and sadness.

    Evie was a genius in her own right. She knew the human condition and it was only in this moment I knew and could say confidently that truly, I would never feel the same pain that she felt. There was no way possible for me too.

    Could I not then try and understand it? Why would anyone want to stop me from that?

    "You can survive without it, but excess hunger and dehydration are going to dull your brain. Right now, you can do nothing but use that high IQ of yours to reduce the time Evie stays in captivity. Understood?"

    Did that make sense? Rationally, yet. But what about the part of my brain that wanted to suffer?

    "I know" I whispered.

    "I brought some food. It''s in my office. Come in and stay with me. I don''t have any other work at the moment so I will apany you," he said quietly. When I didn''t stand up, he huffed in frustration and pulled me up by the arm. "Sebastian, pull yourself together!"

    I was quiet.

    "When we find her, you will need to stay beside her and assure her that everything is alright. If you are in a catatonic state yourself, how do you think she will react?" Nash grilled. "She might be drugged or hurt. She will be paranoid and the only person she will trust will be you and if you look like this, she will get worse. So, pick yourself up and prepare yourself to run to her the second you see her next. Understood?"

    I looked at him oddly. I could understand that he was calm and collected, but would it have been the same if it was someone from his family who was in danger?

    I knew the answer to that already.

    I also knew that he was worried out of his mind for the girl he painstakingly taught everything he knew. He wasn''t as calm as he appeared to be.

    "Okay." I trudged after him without making noise. The hallway was deste and enveloped in silence.

    When I entered Nash''s office, I nced towards Evie''s empty desk and felt my heart stop for a second.

    Nash pulled up a chair to his desk and asked me to sit down.

    "Why did you order so much?" I asked, my eyes roving over the ten or so containers of food.

    "I brought both fish and vegetable dishes. We have soups, starters, main courses, and deserts," he announced. He opened every lid and showed it to me. It was a lot of food. Enough to feed ten or so people. It was one of those restaurants that sent copious amounts of food.

    I blinked. "How will we eat so much?" I asked, horrified.

    He shook his head. "I ordered everything at once. Except for the soup that can go stale, we can eat the rest over today. I have enough for when Evie returns, too," he announced.

    I looked at him gratefully. "You''re sure that we will find her today?" I asked.

    He nodded. "I did some thinking all night and came to a conclusion." I raised my brow, prompting him to continue. "You know how the BTS Killer sent those notes to the media houses? There was a lot of fear surrounding it. I was going through the paper clippings from the time and one of the letters to a news host said that the killer wanted to meet her, right?"

    I nodded slowly. "ording to the profile we have assigned to the killer, if he made the promise of meeting her, he probably did see her in the following few days. He would blend into themunity or is revered, so nobody would suspect him."

    He picked up a spoon and took a sip of soup. He closed his eyes and I saw some of his anxiety seep away.

    "You want to find out which prominent figures met the host?" I asked finally.

    Nash shook his head. "Not only the host. We can look at guests who were speaking about situations at the time or someone who dropped by for a tour of the news agency."

    "That makes sense," I admitted. "But that was from so many years ago. They might not have records of those, right?" I asked.

    Nash shrugged. "It''s better for us to look somewhere than to sit like idle ducks until the results from everything elsees in, right?"

    That was a good point.

    "We will call the studio around seven, then," I informed. "Either of us can talk to them."

    "You should do it. You have a better understanding of the case. I will follow up on theb report from the bag we received and call the prosecutor onest time." He scratched his head.

    "Collins does a lot of high-profile cases, right? You should ask one of the gossipy officers that have been here for a long time to see which powerful people he is chummy with. A search of his name on the inte would bring out some information, too."

    "Good idea. Any lead is a good lead. We might not get conclusive evidence to prosecute the killer, but we can tail him until we find something good."

    Tailing. That meant weeks of wait. But it was, indeed, better than nothing.

    The warmth of the soup was weing. Until the moment I took the first sip, I hadn''t realized I was starving. With a guilt-ridden heart, I finished my portion and went to the next.

    Nash was right. I needed my energy so that my mind and body worked. I needed the energy to be by her side after I found her.

    "Evie will be fine," Nash said out of the blue.

    I looked up at him incredulously. "Why would you think that?"

    Nash smiled. "She lives a very healthy lifestyle and doesn''t take medication that will conflict with the drugs the kidnapper gave her. She will hallucinate and have a hard time, but trust her to know the difference between what is real and what is not."

    "Evie has a logical mind, but she is also sympathetic. She understands how the victims and their families feel. With her beside the two other victims, she will make sure they are safe. She studied the pattern of the kidnapper, so she will know exactly what to do to preserve her life and protect herself from danger. She will be fine."

    The confidence in his voice was assuring. "I hadn''t thought of it in that way," I admitted. "I kept thinking about her as being helpless and bound I forgot that she was highly trained to protect herself." I looked down at the packets of food. "She''s not a young girl anymore. I can''t help but see her that way, though." I chuckled humourlessly.

    "Do you know why I brought you here andid out this food?" Nash questioned. "Because I learned it from Evie. I had never really considered how making the victim and their familyfortable was a part of my job. That by doing so, my work would get so much easier." He shook his head. "She treated them with respect and told them what to do. She brought them warm food and water and sat beside them when they were cold, telling them it would be okay."

    I smiled, knowing that she had a peculiar way of affecting people especially those in agony.

    "Before I met Evie, I thought that the worries and the hope of families were tough. But after meeting her, I realized that their conviction in finding their loved ones unharmed propelled me to work harder and smarter. Their words the little things they say while they are worried can be of so much help." Nash shook his head.

    "Yeah, Evie has a way with people. Pain is a universalnguage. And because she has been on the brink, she so easilymunicates with people in pain. That''s her biggest power."

    "And she wille back and use it to help more people. Trust her," he whispered harshly.

    "I do trust her," I responded. I don''t know if I trusted the system.

 Chapter 165: Another Letter

    Chapter 165: Another Letter

    "The results are out," Nash shouted. I jerked up to look at him.

    "The sand analysis?" I whispered. Nash nodded enthusiastically. Despite my attempts at looking dignified, I sprinted to the forensicsb and found the familiar faces of the analysts gaping at me.

    They had never seen me like this and they would probably never see me in this state ever again.

    "What are the results?" I asked.

    The analyst looked up from his report, the dark circle under his eyes prominent. "Dr. Butler," he said, his voice excited. "Here." He pushed the result towards me.

    I looked at the general location of the sand and frowned. "This is somewhere around Queensbury?" I asked. I tilted my head to the side.

    "The beach at Queensbury is a popr destination. Ideally, that is the only beach in this vicinity that still has sand. All the other beaches have been encased in rock and pebbles and shells, highly unlikely for anyone to get sand residue from there," the analyst said.

    He looked perplexed. "Does that help in any way? Almost everyone goes to that beach on their days off. We can''t narrow down anything, right?" his voice was low and deliberate.

    I shook my head. I pulled out my cellphone and searched forpanies that shipped sand from the beach. And there you had it, garden supplies. The sand was good for gardening and was therefore supplied to certain localities in the ten-kilometer range. I could only find one medium-sizedpany so that was a plus.

    "Gardening supplies," I prompted, showing Nash the screen.

    Nash contemted for a moment. "He wouldn''t very well go to the beach to pack the bag and he cleaned it so carefully. It''s strange for one grain of sand to be left behind." His eyes lit up with understanding. "It''s from his backyard. The paraphernalia is in the house''s backyard and he dug it out. Somehow it got into the bag after he hadpletely cleaned it out!"

    I nodded.

    The analyst looked confused. "You got that from a simple search?" he asked. "But it spans across a wide area, right? How will you find the identity of this person?"

    "Kid, you''ve done well. You''ve given us more information than we could ever imagine," Nash said proudly.

    I didn''t add in but I felt relieved. This didn''t look like much but I had to admit that searching would be a little easier.

    We were back in the confines of Nash''s room when I spoke up. "We need to narrow those lists to the people who lived within twenty miles of the beach at that time," I told Nash.

    Nash was reluctant, though. "The higher end of the poption living within three kilometers of the beach are rich. The property prices are exorbitant. This doesn''t fit in with the initial idea that the BTS killer was powerless. Money usually equals a sense of sess in life," Nash rationalized.

    "I wouldn''t put it past them, though. The BTS Killer was out of a job at the time, it hurt his masculinity. It doesn''t have to do much with money more than it is about his ego, right?"

    Nash clucked his tongue. "But usually, police academy attendants are from middle-ss households and lower-ie households."

    "Statistics would say that, but I can''t bank on it right now, can I?" I asked him firmly.

    "The search is too big, Sebastian," he warned.

    Something at the back of my head nagged at me. "Where did Alicia grow up?" I asked myself.

    Nash''s eyes grew wide. "Do you think it would work?"

    "It was possibly his first time actively helping a criminal out. He would have a harder time scoping out Alicia. He might have gone to the same school or lived in a close neighborhood, right?"

    Nash pressed his lips together. "Most parents prefer sending students to the nearest school. That is true. I can triangte and find a general location, that is for sure."

    I heaved a sigh of relief. "You get on it. I''ll call the news station and talk to the host," I informed.

    Nash was behind his desk in no time, going through the list and redoing it once again.

    "Hello?" I said into the phone. "Have I connected with SBN News Studio?" I asked into the phone once the call had been picked up.

    "Yes, speaking. May I know who you are looking for?" the gruff female voice asked from the other side.

    "I am calling from the city police about a case. Is there anyone authorized to speak of such matters?" I questioned.

    There was silence on the other end.

    "Is this about the BTK killer?" the woman asked, exasperated.

    "Why would you ask that?" I found it curious that they would know so soon.

    "We got a tip that the Killer was back in town but didn''t report because it was a rumor. But this morning, we received a letter insisting that it was from the guy."

    I grew silent. "You received a letter?" I repeated.

    "Yes, we did. It was addressed to the director of the morning news show which airs in an hour. We haven''t decided if we should talk about it yet"

    "Don''t talk about it yet. I''lle personally to see the letter," I said quickly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nash looked up in surprise. "Is Miss Natalia still there?" I added after a beat.

    "Yes, she is. She is the one who will do the morning news," she replied, confused.

    "Great. Please inform your director that I am arriving shortly." I was already out of my desk and sprinting to my room to get my purse and car keys.

    I hung the phone up and was about to leave the station when Nash caught up to me.

    "What is it?" he asked, looking frantic.

    "News Station received a letter saying it was from the killer. I don''t know if it really is the killer or the aplice trying to confuse us, but it''s a lead I can''t pass by," I hastily spoke. "I''ll talk to the staff face to face and get the answers, too."

    "Okay, stay safe. I''llplete the list by the time you are back," Nash assured. "Be sure to drink water."

    I may have broken a few trafficws to arrive at the scene before the morning news started. I was sweating and received an rmed look from the receptionist. "Hi, I may have spoken to you on the phone a little earlier. You told me about the letter that arrived this morning?" I enquired.

    The older woman nodded and looked worried as she picked up the phone and called someone. "There''s someone from the police forcee to meet you," she said and then hung up, never looking away from my face.

    I tapped my finger on the desk and waited until I saw the familiar figure of the news host sauntering in my direction.

    "Who are you?" she asked. She had a pleasant voice and an older face, lines marking the corner of her eyes. But she was conventionally beautiful.

    "Doctor Sebastian Butler. I am a consultant for the city police and am currently working on a cold case that you might know something about." Natalia arched her brow and nced towards the receptionist with displeasure.

    "Which case?" she asked, pretending not to know.

    "The letter that you received from the BTS Killer, I must see it. And I wish to speak to you about the previous letter you received. I have some questions for you."

    She looked startled and I saw a sh of fear in her eyes. "I don''t wish to speak about it," she said through gritted teeth.

    "You don''t need to worry. We are going to solve the mystery soon and the Killer is not in a position where he can harm you," I assured her.

    "How can you be sure of that?" she hissed.

    "Because I am a professor of criminal psychology and know a thing or two about criminals. Please, can we find a private room to chat?" I pleaded.

    She watched me closely before she finally agreed. We were in the room and she looked angsty.

    "I know that the show starts shortly, so I just want to look at the letter for now. I will stay behind and ask you questions about the previous letter after you are done with the morning news. How does that sound?"

    I scrutinized her expression and saw the reluctance, but finally, she agreed.

    She handed the paper over after retrieving it from her desk. She took the seat across from me and watched me with rapt fascination.

    As I looked over the paper and the style of writing, I analyzed it in my head. My thoughts were interrupted by the words of the anchor.

    "I have never seen a consultant so passionate about a case. Is there something urgent?" she poked.

    I looked at her dispassionately.

 Chapter 166: Trusting Us to Tell The Truth

    Chapter 166: Trusting Us to Tell The Truth

    "Why? Are you upset that I want to solve the mystery?" I asked without emotion. She looked startled for a second before a smile bloomed on her lips.

    "I was wondering why you sprinted to us and called us," she chuckled.

    "When you have an infamous serial killering back again, I think it is my duty to find them before someone else dies." She blinked.

    "I did hear there was a chance he was back. But you are all keeping it hush-hush."

    I sighed. "If this is about you getting an exclusive news piece on the topic or getting an interview from someone working on the case, don''t try. You''ll make the situation worse than it is." She paused and looked at me intently. "Now, if you can give me a moment of silence, I need to figure out this cryptic message."

    This time, sheplied.

    [Can I trust you to tell the truth?]

    And then the cryptic riddle that was added to it. I blinked and took my phone out to write it down.

    "Read the letter. It''s BTS," I said, the moment Nash picked the phone up.

    "Exin," he said immediately. I could hear that he was typing in the background.

    "Are you working on the new list?" I asked.

    "Yeah. You would think there would be fewer people in it, but nope. It''s a rather long list," he sighed.

    "Good. The letter asks us to believe him and not the other guy who sent the package. It''s a printed-out piece of paper. A4 size paper with one sentence and a cryptic riddle we need to solve. Looking at the kind of stationery, it''s not the aplice."

    Nash cheered on the other side.

    "I have already sent it to you. Look it over. We can solve this. It''s an address, I am sure."

    I hung up the phone and looked at the reporter. "You didn''t hear any of that. If you pay attention to the rumors and speak about it to the world, someone will die. More than one person will die. And we will know you were part of the reason why it happened." I hadn''t known I was maniptive before this moment. The tone in which I told her this information was evil, but it came from my heart.

    If anyone caught wind of this, especially the aplice who had kidnapped Evie, she would be gone. I would never be able to find her, even if I caught the BTS Killer.

    "There are lives at stake?" she squeaked.

    "Why else did you think he sent another letter? He didn''te back even on the anniversary of his killings. And now he is suddenly back and asking for attention?"

    She trembled. "Ah, so he is going to kill."

    "Which is why you should make sure to track people around you. If you have people calling you about the matter of people visiting the station apart from me, you need to call me immediately. Understood?" I insisted.

    She nodded vehemently.

    "It''s time for you to prepare for your show," I said as I nced at the wall clock. She followed my gaze and then stood up abruptly.

    "I''ll not talk about this," she told me.

    "I won''t thank you," I responded. There was a burst of anger in my belly that I couldn''t cast out. Her words had ignited something in me. Like I was supposed to be dispassionate about cases if it didn''t have anything to do with it.

    It made me question what I had been like before I met Evie. I had chased killers and criminals alike to save lives, yes, but never with as much anger and desperation as this moment.

    A body does not lie, I would tell myself. But the body was someone, wasn''t it? Someone who wasn''t saved.

    I pressed my hand over my face as I spiraled into the thought process.

    Evie You turned me into a human.

    I squeezed my eyes shut for the longest time before taking in a cleansing breath and looking at the sheet of paper once again.

    ording to the profile of the BTS Killer, he tries to act smart in his messages. But he is not a highly intellectual man who is capable ofplex machinations. In that strand of thought, I knew not to expect an expert code.

    Moreover, he wanted the message to be easy to absolve himself and mislead us. To drag out the time required to take back the credit for where it was due.

    I scrambled the letters together, taking in the clues before arriving at a tentative response.

    "I think he nted a package somewhere in the railway station," I told Nash.

    "Yes, it''s somewhere people won''t look. It seems like he is having personalmunication with the police and doesn''t want to involve public spection, right?"

    I hummed in agreement. "Any idea what these numbers are?"

    Nash was silent for a second. "They could be tform numbers, train numbers or" we spoke the answer at the same time.

    "Locker numbers." That was it.

    It would exin everything. The lockers could be rented out for a period of time and the renting process was anonymous. Not many people really used it because of the number of people who were always frequenting the station but those who traveled frequently and didn''t want to stow away their luggage in the hotels and spend extra money used this technique. It was not a farfetched idea.

    "Take a few people to the station and search through it. I will wait for the anchor to return and question her." I stopped and wondered if this was too much work. "Do you want someone else to do it?" I offered. "I could go myself," I said finally.

    "Sebastian, time is running out. I don''t have time to listen to you sulk and wonder if you are the only one who cares. I am taking the analyst with me and we will have some clues, okay?" he said quickly.

    I felt relief. It wasn''t enough for me to smile, but it was something.

    "Okay."

    Now, all I could do was wait.

    Two hours. I waited for two hours. I couldn''t do a single thing in that time other than wait for the anchor or Nash to tell me something new. I supposed it would take time for him to figure out how to convince the railway authorities into giving him the key.

    And I didn''t want to disturb him by checking up.

    Finally, I saw the anchor saunter back into the room. She looked tired and her makeup was slightly blurred at the corner of her eyes.

    "Dr. Butler, do you mind giving me a moment to rest? I''m tired from the show," she said softly.

    I had seen the show running in the other room and watched her grit through most of the segments. She was deathly frightened and trying to hide it behind a smile.

    Her co-host even asked her if she was feeling unwell and she just waved it away. Her expression was better after that, but I could see that it was taking a toll on her.

    "Thank you for not saying anything," I had to say. If I needed answers, I had to get to the bottom of this matter.

    She looked up, surprised but delighted. "It''s no need. As a reporter, I get carried away thinking about getting an exclusive. Sometimes it is dehumanizing the way we think. I understand that you are doing good work and it is your responsibility to protect people from these vile killers. I apologize for pushing your buttons."

    I couldn''t very well tell her why she was able to push my buttons. If people knew, I would be thrown out of the case and never allowed to see the files. They would im I was biased and chuck out my credibility. I knew I was not out of my mind or reason because of Evie''s absence, but I also knew how it would look to others.

    Sebastian has finally lost it, they would say. And at this crucial moment, I couldn''t allow anyone to question my authenticity and experience.

    "Let me know when you are ready to speak," I told her softly.

    She nodded and after a drink of cold water, she took the seat opposite to mine. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

    "You were the one who received the first letter, right?" I asked.

    She nodded. "It was so many years ago but I remember the details vividly." She shuddered. "It was scary finding out that he was watching our show every morning and he was talking directly to me. He knew what was going on in my life and hoped that I would do well. And I was so worried that I would be his next victim that I slept at night with a gun under my pillow." She gulped at the memory.

    I knew what she meant. I had seen the panic Evie felt every night the lights would go off, her eyes straining in the darkness to find movement.

    "Was there anything in it that stood out to you?" I asked.

    I could tell she was trying to remember. And then she nodded. "It was strange that he knew what the inside of the studio looked like. Like he had been inside our studio before. That was what made me sure that it was someone who had at least been inside. Maybe a delivery person or something?" she said tepidly.

    "Most news stations look simr, don''t they?" I enquired.

 Chapter 167: Infamous Rumors About His Son

    Chapter 167: Infamous Rumors About His Son

    She shook her head. "No, this was specifications on the offices and their names. At the time, we had weird office names for each person and no cards. So, if someone hadn''t been inside, they wouldn''t know."

    I recalled the strange words in the letter and nodded, finally understanding. I had thought it was part of the style he was writing in, but now it made sense.

    "Did you consider it being one of the people who came to tour the station or a guest?" I asked.

    Her eyes widened. "I never thought of it that way" she trailed off.

    "Around that time, what was the news that was most spoken of?" I asked.

    She rubbed her chin. "It was all about the BTS Killer. We were analyzing every millimeter of the information out there. We had whole segments getting answers from police and others." And then she gasped. "Could it be one of the panelists in those discussions? Someone who wanted to stroke his ego?"

    "We shouldn''t specte about such matters. But if you could give me a list of people who were panelists, that would be great. If you have records of any visits or tours, please give that to me as well."

    She smacked her lips together. "I might be able to get the records, but I am sure the list of panelists and guests is avable to me."

    The woman in front of me had covered the BTS Killer so well that she had received praise for it. I remembered listening to her passionately speaking about the cause despite being threatened by the letter. She had spoken about it on live news without regard for her life.

    Now that I was sitting in front of her, I knew that she had been pretending back then. She had been scared out of her mind.

    "Please get it for me," I said quickly. She didn''t dally around and went behind her desk.

    "I have a list of people I spoke to. It''s like a resume I keep. It''s something all reporters do. Take pictures of who we shake hands with," shemented as she scrolled through the screen. "Here. Found the lists," she looked up and smiled at me. The printer whirred beside her and she picked the papers out and handed them over to me.

    I flipped through the paper, seeing a lot of familiar names on it. "You need to email it to me as well," I informed. I kept my eyes on the paper and pulled out the list already in my possession.

    More clues but still nothing confirmed. At least we were getting somewhere.

    "Do you have any pictures with the panelists?" I asked out of the blue.

    She blinked. "I think I do," she frowned.

    If the aplice had seen a picture of the crime scenes, it didn''t necessarily have to do with the evidence we had at hand. I had checked the records and knew that no one had essed them in years. It could be that the BTS Killers took pictures alongside taking memorabilia from the crime scene. They could have taken pictures with the reporter as well.

    It would fit the ego-rted tendencies.

    She was searching for the pictures when the call came in.

    "Any new leads?" I asked breathlessly the moment I picked up the call. We had barely had any time for pleasantries since this began. It felt like a routine to just focus on business and facts and in finding the answers.

    "Yes. We''re already back at the station. We''re analyzing the new evidence." I could hear the surprise and delight in Nash''s voice.

    "What is it?" I asked, waiting with bated breath.

    "It was a man envelope inside the locker. Opened it and found a floppy disk remember the ones we used years ago?" I hummed in acknowledgment. I knew what he was talking about. "It was wiped clean with only a document that said test on it."

    I chuckled. "And prints?" I asked.

    "We took everything. I don''t have much hope for partial prints. The locker had been touched so much. But we are cracking the floppy disk. It''s notmonly known but even if you delete files from CDs, disks, and pen drives, they can be retrieved. We are also looking at the model and administrator names. We''ll have an answer to all your questions soon," Nash said light-heartedly. "Any progress on your part?" he asked.

    "I have a shortlist. Nothing as impressive as you," Iplimented.

    "Shut up. You''re the one who came up with all of this." He paused. "I haven''t told anyone about this. Do you understand? Only the analyst and I know of this matter that we found something. Once we have a name, you have toe back and we need to formte a n to dupe them into talking."

    I sucked in a shuddering breath.

    "I have some leads left. I''ll be back in no time," I whispered into the phone.

    "Great. Oh" Nash interrupted. "I have a calling in. I''ll talk to you when you are back, okay?"

    The call ended in a rush and I was looking at the anchor scrambling.

    "Emailed it to you," she chirped after a while.

    I looked at the email and scrolled through the pictures. I knew some of these people. I hadn''t talked to them personally but they were bigwigs now. Very different from who they were years ago.

    And I had it. "I may have more questions. I''lle by if I have anything else."

    The anchor nodded enthusiastically before leading me outside.

    I was finally in the car and driving back when the call came in. I blinked at the phone and put it on speaker.

    "Got a name?" I asked.

    "Yup. I confirmed with the prosecutor who was working on Collins'' case, too. It coincides," Nash breathed. I could hear the relief in his voice. "I haven''t said the name out loud and I have forbidden the analyst to do the same. Once youe back, we''ll discuss it."

    The phone was cut and I realized that today was the day I would break all the trafficws I would in this lifetime. I was back at the station in record time.

    Nash was waiting for me at the entrance, a small smile on his lips.

    We walked through the hallway with Nash talking about lunch. I didn''t smile orment, but I didn''t let others know we were doing something. There were eyes on us.

    It had been there since Evie went missing.

    We were locked inside Nash''s office and the food was brought out. The smell of lunch wafted through the air as we sat across from one another.

    "Who is it?" I asked. I couldn''t wait for the answer.

    "Guess," Nash joked. He knew I didn''t have time for this. But I could y along. I had my suspicion. When you saw a namee up again and again, it was no coincidence.

    "It''s the Director-General of City Police." I was not confident, but this was my gut speaking.

    Nash''s eyes widened. "You''re right," he said softly. "My God, you really are a genius. Did you have a psychic moment?"

    I scoffed. "You got his name?" Nash nodded. "I had the pictures, theck of knowledge that floppy disks can store deleted information Add in the infamous rumors about the nice son he has it fit."

    "It is him but it also makes it harder for us," Nash imed. "Every email we have sent regarding the aplice case and the BTS Killer updates have had been in CC. It was only recently we stopped briefing anyone about our movement. The DG is weary. We cannot bring him in for an interrogation. He willwyer up and not say a word."

    I thought about it for a moment. "He is easily influenced by his son, is he not?" I questioned. "Then, why don''t we ask him for his opinion on the case he was a lead detective in violent crime for a few years, right?"

    "But we can''t film him. Even if we get a confession, it will be nothing more than hearsay. How do we pin this on him?" Nash asked.

    I squeezed my eyes shut. "Hidden camera," I announced.

    Nash shook his head vehemently. "It''s not allowed. That would not stand in court. Thewyers will exclude it from the list of evidence the moment prosecutors submit it," he imed.

    "Aren''t you on good terms with that prosecutor? You gave him two big cases in the past month. He could get us a court order for surveince, right?"

    I was desperate at this point.

    Nash''s eyes brightened for a second before he deted. "A court order will take a day in the least." And then he became silent. "We could ask him," he whispered.

    "Tell him who the order is against before he promises to get it?" I asked.

    Nash nodded. "I could entice him with another brilliant case. He wouldn''t say no."

    I sagged and gave in. The conversation happened right in front of me and I could hear the struggle in the conversation. Once the prosecutor heard the name of the suspect, he bottled up his emotions. He couldn''t do that to one of his own!

    I understood loyalty, but it was his job. "It''s because he is one of your own that you need to do this. He''s been parading around as a good person for years while he brutally ughtered women and families. He needs to be held to the highest standard."

    That seemed to poke a hole in the prosecutor''s logic. He sighed. "Okay. My wife is a judge. I''ll ask her to get a rushed court order."

    I looked up at Nash with a wide grin.

    Bill Phillips, Director General of City Police.

    An infamous serial killer.

    Loving and protective father to the twenty-seven-year-old day trader, Benny Phillips.

    Benny Phillips, the man who took Evie.

 Chapter 168: Exclamatory Remarks

    Chapter 168: Exmatory Remarks

    The prosecutor was faster than expected. Usually, we needed to wait at least a day to get our hands on something like this, but instead, we had it within five hours of that call being made.

    With the court order in ce, Nash and I had toe up with a n to take Bill Phillips aside and question him. The hardest part would be to get him inside that room and talk to him.

    Fortunately, he was situated on the top floor of the same building, so it wouldn''t be suspicious to go up to him and talk. But what bait would be used to pull him down?

    "Let''s use the BTS Killer case," Nash said finally. "He was the one who solidified the name in the media."

    I looked at him curiously. "Is that so?"

    "Yeah. No one wanted to name him because they would give him notoriety, but Bill thought it was a good move, to give something the people could pinpoint and avoid. Now I can see it would be because he wanted to be up there with the named and famed serial killers." He shook his head in disbelief.

    "Let''s iste himpletely and ask him, then," I injected.

    The n was solidified. Nash would take the lead and we would hide a camera in the coat and bring it into the room where we questioned him.

    The clock ticked slowly as we ascended the staircase. The floors showed who was more powerful than the other and on the top floor was Bill Phillips, almost the most powerful man in the police department at the time.

    "Ready?" Nash whispered.

    I pushed the door to the floor open. The station was an open style and the Director-General sat beyond a ss wall. He seemed busy at work but the furrow of his brow and the tension in his limps said another story.

    Nash knocked on the secretary''s desk and the man looked up, surprised.

    "Is the Director-General avable to speak?" he asked casually. I was thankful that he hade by because I couldn''t have been so suave and charming with others.

    "The DG doesn''t want to meet anyone today," the secretary mumbled.

    Nash clucked his tongue. "We actually needed his expert opinion on a case we are working on. Would you mind asking him if he could spare us a little time today?" Nash''s tone was light but pleading. There was no urgency in it and I instantly knew that he was baiting the DG by showing that we had a lot on our te to figure out and he was important in the process.

    Being the narcissist that this man was, he would want to know everything we had against him and maybe point us in another direction. He might even have fun watching us run from one ce to the other.

    We would allow him that delight if he came with us.

    The phone call was made and Bill swiveled his head in our direction and looked at us critically. Nash raised his hand in acknowledgment and gave a small bow. The man looked slightly relieved before he hurriedly spoke into the phone.

    "The Director-General will see you now," he said.

    Nash nodded. He went into the room and said something to the man, making hime out of the room instantly.

    He followed us and the whole way, Nash spoke about the trivial matters while announcing that they should go to a restaurant. A tactic I realized was to show the DG that we wanted his help in private.

    The thing about being apprehended was that even if you have been on the other side a thousand times and knew every move written in the book by heart when you were faced with detectives and interrogators, you couldn''t tell the difference.

    We had created a ruse and invited Bill to advise us on a case. We had rehearsed and prepared the questions many times over the time the prosecutor took to get the court order. We had to keep the conversation as casual as possible for as long as possible and carefully wait for the key moments to initiate the confrontation.

    We actually led him to one of the rooms where the DG knew no cameras were installed.

    "Let''s have a seat," Nash said casually, pointing towards an old chair. We didn''t follow the usual patterns of an interrogation. There was a table in the far corner of the room and the DG sat on one side while Nash and I huddled close to him without looking like we were opposing him. Even the door was hidden from his view unlike when interrogators would intentionally sit between the suspect and the door to show power.

    We were simply humble people who wanted to chat with the almighty Director-General.

    "I know it''s strange that we brought you aside but it felt awkward talking to you about the case in front of so many watchful eyes."

    "That''s okay," Bill assured.

    The first step for us was to set apatible tone with Bill the moment he stepped foot inside the room. We had to negate the implications of being in a tight-packed space with two investigators who were on his tail.

    "So, we came across your name in one of the cases we are handling and wanted to talk to you about it," I began. "Do you know of a Lee Yunxi?" I asked, my brows scrunching even though my voice was polite.

    I could imagine what he was thinking. Over two decades ago, he murdered a woman in cold blood and got away with it. Suddenly after so many years, you were brought into a room with two investigators and you heard their name once again.

    I had intentionally mispronounced her name, wanting to see his reaction.

    "Uh Lee Yunxi?" he said, changing the pronunciation to the correct one. It was a simple strategy to see how Bill would react. Setting aside the fact that he had murdered this woman, it was also the woman whose identity card we had been sent by his son, Benny Phillips.

    This pause was already deceptive. Usually, if one knows a name, they would immediately reply but this man waited a total of twelve to fourteen seconds to respond, showing that he clearly knew that name but wanted to show us that he had to think a lot to recall if he knew someone by that name.

    In reality, the name was engraved in his memory. Even when mispronounced a little, it must have taken a few milliseconds for him to realize who I was talking about.

    "Do you know her?" I asked.

    "Um It sounds familiar wasn''t it someone who died a long time ago?" he asked.

    "Mmhmm," I agreed, allowing him to speak further.

    He left out the fact that he had attended numerous calls to her house when neighbors called the police because she was making noise. Or the fact that he met her outside work a few times as well. This fact was revealed to uster on, of course.

    Why no one had looked into this matter remained unknown.

    "What is this all about?" The Director-General asked. He shifted the chair so that he was closer and he leaned in. The expression on his face only showed curiosity. He didn''t suspect us one bit.

    "Well, it''s regarding a case we are working on and it involves Lee Yunxi. There were some statements we reviewed on the matter and we found that you knew each other for a short period of time?" I prompted.

    "It was a million years ago," he whispered. "Uh was I assigned to a case she was part of?" he asked. He waspletely avoiding the question.

    A million years ago, he said. Like he would never remember a person he cold-bloodedly murdered. What a joke.

    But I understood what he was doing. He was using exaggerate verbal expressions to show that he hadn''t thought about this woman in a long time. So long that he didn''t even know for sure who it was. So he was probing us to see how much of their connection we knew about.

    "Oh, we thought you saw her on some calls and briefly became friends with her are we wrong about that?"

    The Director-General snapped his fingers as if it hade back to him. "Ah, yes. I think I knew her. I met her about her neighborhood people a few times. I wouldn''t consider her a friend though. I fellow Samaritan I knew?" he corrected our assumption. "What is this all about?" he asked waving his hands.

    "Well, it''s about her murder. Did you know she was murdered?" He had already confessed to knowing she was dead. Now we needed to know if he could acknowledge that Lee Yunxi was murdered.

    I could see the influence those words had on him immediately. One part of him wondered if he should stay and deal with what wasing, and the other beckoned him to leave this situation immediately.

    Bill, chose to fight.

    "Okay," he said, his voice edging on ridicule.

    "Do you remember her now?" Nash asked from the side.

    "Not really," Bill said, sounding affronted by the notion. "I know that she died. That''s all."

    "Did you meet her before her death?" I questioned, keeping my tone light and imploring, making no threats or saying words that would make him suspicious of my motives.

    "God, I don''t know It was such a long time ago," he said. He looked around the room, trying to find the answer that would absolve him of what he had done. He leaned away and his back thumped against the back of the chair. "I may have met her."

    I knew right then that he would make exmatoryments throughout this discussion. He was trying to show that he had a vague memory due to ack of interest in the subject matter. He is trying to emit the impression that he would have no reason to think about Lee Yunxi or anything rted to her.

 Chapter 169: A Rough Patch

    Chapter 169: A Rough Patch

    "How long did you know her for?" Nash asked softly.

    "What are you guys is this something" he cut himself off as he made wild gestures with his hand.

    Bill had been a cop for decades. He was wise to the fact that acting oblivious to the unusual development of the situation would be aplete red g in the eyes of the investigators.

    Guilty suspects will often try and act nave to confrontation as a means to avoid it altogether. Truthful suspects would immediately catch on to this and immediately rify the doubt or confront the investigators about why they were insinuating something like this.

    "You said that you were asking about a case, but here I am" His breathing was slightly heavy as he stared between the two of us incredulously.

    "Director-General. Please understand, your name was mentioned in the passing and we just wanted to rify some things about the victim." This was a sharp turn that I took from the almost interrogative tone I had earlier. Now, I was consoling and coaxing Bill into believing that we were on his side in this matter. "If we went up to you to your desk and asked those kinds of questions. You know how up there people can see everything?" I gave him a sheepish look.

    "Well, that''s okay" Bill''s voice was calmer now.

    "So, we wanted to give you some privacy some confidentiality while talking to you about this."

    "Okay," Bill kept interrupting.

    "We know that you are married to a wonderful woman and talking about this in front of people might have been bad you know how gossip spreads across the station," Nash injected into the conversation.

    I saw a flicker of panic in Bill''s eyes and then he looked at the two of us with relief.

    "We wanted to talk to you in a setting where other people don''t listen in. That''s all" Nash reassured.

    Whether it was shock or the total reluctance to ept the situation, the Director-General wearily epted the assurance without further inquiry.

    "So, what was the question again?" Billy reorganized himself.

    "How long did you know her?" Nash reminded.

    I decided to take a back seat as Nash was the more friendly one. He could tter his superiors much better than I could ever expect. I had a disdain for hierarchy, so I was a lost cause.

    "Wow. It was a really long time ago. What time is it now? I was still a patrol and on-call officer at the time so" he pretended to jog his memory. Grimacing and shrugging every other second, the exaggerated motions making him look ratheric. "I knew she had some underlying feelings for me at the time. But I was married and I am sure she moved on from her feelings for me."

    Nash hummed. "Understood. But roughly how long would you say your acquaintance with her was?" Nash let out a small cough and reached down to take his bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip as we gave Bill the time toe up with a reasonable answer.

    This was not about rapid-fire questions at him. This was about the long game.

    "I couldn''t even say" he trailed off. He went off into a tangent, exining things that he didn''t need to exin and saying things that weren''t asked. He was in a state of hyper-arousal.

    By this behavior, he would go off on unrted tangents as a means to gain momentary relief. He would go into trivial details things would afford him some time as the eventuality of what was happening revealed itself to him.

    This wasmon in interrogations where the suspect was facing serious charges. In this case, first-degree murder multiple murders. It was a subconscious coping mechanism ording to academic studies.

    He was talking about how old she was, how much he knew about her things of that nature.

    "So, what you are telling me is that the nature of your acquaintance was a little more than just solitary Samaritan helping someone else out?" Nash asked, sounding a little bewildered.

    "Uh" he didn''t know how to answer that and answered somethingpletely different. "Geez, I''m trying to think what happened around that time. I think I was going through a rough patch in my marriage at the time and things in the job front were also not looking promising," he looked down towards the far end corner of the room''s floor. "Let''s see"

    I had to frankly say that I was a little impatient and we needed to shut him down before he went intopletely inconsequential mumbo-jumbo. "So, before her death, you hadn''t talked to her for a long time?"

    Bill shrugged. "Yeah. I hadn''t talked to her in a long time. I couldn''t even tell you how long it had been." Again, he started to throw out years and dates which wouldn''t really help us catch him.

    "After the marriage and financial problems resolved, I got a higher position at the police force and I was mostly working from behind the desk. So, I had no contact with people I came across during my rough patch."

    At least we could solidify our hypothesis on why he started to kill again.

    "Were there other people you were particrly close to from that time period?" I asked.

    Billy looked at me strangely but nodded. He gave some names that Nash nodded to. We wouldn''t catch up with these people, but who knows, if one of them was also a victim, that would be a sad addition to the plethora of people who had died at the Director-General''s hand.

    "What''s this about?" he asked again. This was the second time he was challenging us. Once again, the question was avoided.

    Nash didn''t afford him reassurance any longer. The n was to ramp up the pressure on him slowly. And to reassure the Director-General at this point would be to make all our efforts fall t.

    "How would you define your rtionship with her?" Nash asked.

    It was a subtle but impressive question to put pressure on him.

    "Well we weren''t boyfriend and girlfriend but when she showered me with affection, I felt nice about it. It was a rough patch in my life and having someone like that was a pleasurable change," hemented, his eyes roving over us, looking for eptance of the almost adulterous rtionship he had been in.

    I doubted the victim had anything to do with this man, though. She was possibly talking to him for help with her neighbors but the delusional guy thought she liked him or something. It was unlike his usual pattern, so we had to wonder.

    Actually, the timeline between the two murders in his second spree had grown interesting. The first kill was a mother with her children in the house, but he didn''t kill the children, locking them away while he hacked away at the mother. But in reality, he had met the next victim before the first kill.

    He had probably not seen her as a potential victim and liked her as a single woman. Almost all of his other victims had been married women or those with long-term partners. There were even some recently divorced or broken-up women in the mix. But this girl was special. She had been an anomaly.

    As the story revealed itself in front of me, I knew that this was the strand I needed to grab to get a possible confession out of this guy.

    "So, after you guys split were you on friendly terms or nah?" Nash had a way of colloquially putting things in perspective. I didn''t understand the source of his terminology, but thankfully, I knew what he was asking.

    "I wouldn''t say we were close but we were friendly" Bill nodded. "I saw her a couple of times on the street."

    And the change in his tone showed that he had indeed seen her on the street. He was not lying. But I had a nagging feeling that when he saw her on the street, he was spying on her and preparing for the right moment to kill her.

    "Did you ever meet anyone else in her house? Her mother perhaps? DO you remember what she did for a living?" For the first two questions, I could see the deceptive reflection on his face. He was pretending to remember if he had done those things, but for the third question, you could see him genuinely trying to remember what the victim did for a living.

    "I think she was preparing for the civil service exam?" it was more of a question than an answer. "I can''t even remember having a conversation about her life goals. I mean I really wasn''t that into her." He shrugged. "I mean it was so long ago."

    He hade into this room trying to fish for information about the BTS Killer case and its progress, but we had got him curious about this one victim he knew personally and he couldn''t get out of our web. I had to pat myself on the back for the decision.

    "Did you go to any of her brunches?" Yes, the victim invited people to brunch.

    "No," he responded strongly. "I didn''t go to any such things. I was on duty and I didn''t like meeting people on a personal basis at the time." He paused. "But I don''t understand why we are talking about a woman I almost dated a million years ago."

    "Do you know what happened to her?" I asked, keeping my voice level.

    "Yeah!" he eximed. I noted a hint of exasperation and enthusiasm at that. "I know she got killed!"

    I hummed. "What did you hear about that?"

    He waved his hand in the air. "I saw a poster at work"

    "Oh. How did you first learn about that?" I pressed.

    "I probably heard it at work."

 Chapter 170: Trusting Their Own

    Chapter 170: Trusting Their Own

    "Were you still on the job, back then? What role did you have?"

    The Director-General''s brow scrunched up. "I did say there were some problems at work but yeah I was probably back at work back then." He huffed. "I am sure I was at my job because that was how I had heard of the news."

    He wasn''t really at the job at the time. He had been suspended and moved to a behind-the-desk duty. But he was still on probation. He wasn''ting to work, so he had definitely not heard it at work.

    He went off into a tangent about where he could have heard this information.

    "Well, was there anything ufortable between the two of you after you parted?" Nash asked. There was a slight insinuation, but nothing too outright to rm the Director-General.

    "I can''t even remember a proper conversation I had with her. It has been so long! I thought she was killed by a serial killer or something. Wasn''t that it?"

    It was, but we didn''t linger on it.

    "You went to her apartment, didn''t you? Where was it located?"

    I noticed his passive disposition as he gave the following truthful response. He noted her address her prior address. The victim had since moved apartments.

    "Do you know of the new apartment she was living in?" Nash asked subsequently.

    His demeanor changed immediately. He became slightly agitated as he pretended not to remember. "I am sure she did. I don''t quite remember." And then he said a specific locality where the victim had actually moved.

    "Did you ever visit that apartment?"

    "No!" he responded immediately.

    "Oh. Are you sure you never visited this apartment?" I asked after a short silence.

    "No. This was such a long time ago. I may have?" he recanted his previous statement.

    "I mean what did you think when you heard about her being murdered? What was your reaction? You heard at work?" I prompted him to speak more about this. I knew he had called at least the mother at the time. A police officer had called her and spoken to the mother. Only now, I knew who it really was.

    "It was shocking, really. I called her family and spoke to them briefly to give my condolences," he acknowledged.

    "Do you know what the circumstances were regarding her death?" Nash injected.

    He hummed as if he was thinking about it. "Let me think back. It was a burry butter they thought it was a serial killer, right? I probably saw a flier with her face on it about the case?"

    "But what has this got to do with anything? Her getting killed? I didn''t have anything to do with it. Somebody said whatever" He was looking at her, probing for more information.

    "No, this case was dropped on my table and I was going through it and your name popped up. You were right up the stairs so I just went to ask you in person what you knew. We need to trust our own, right?" I prompted.

    Bill''s brow raised. "This is not the time you should be looking at other cases. I heard how your assistant and the new intern got kidnapped or something. I got a call from the officers. We need to find her. It''s mildly disgraceful that the police can be so easily taken hostage, but also her life is on the line," he said quickly.

    Both Nash and I stiffened. "Who was the officer who said this?" I asked.

    "You know. It''s just gossip," the Director-Generalmented. Clearly, he had heard from his son and no one else. This bastard!

    "Right. Someone else is working on it. The Chief didn''t want us just sitting around and reading papers so he told us to solve some older cases. That is why we have been going around solving them. This was one of those. We see this so we want to talk to you, of course. The only reason we are doing it here is that this is some very personal stuff"

    "No, I get it!" he retorted immediately, his voice calm. He thought he had an upper hand on us.

    "So at that time, there were a lot of angles that they looked at it with. And you have been on this job for longer than I have. You know we need to cover all bases," Nash said. He put in these littleughs to make light of the situation.

    "No, I understand. But if you are saying that I am a suspect, I have a problem with that," he said immediately. "If you are doing this as an interrogation, you are using me of this."

    "We are trying to figure out what happened," I said firmly.

    "Well, I need to get awyer if that is what is happening!" he countered.

    "You have your free will. You can do whatever you want," I challenged.

    "I know, but" He wanted to know about the BTS Killer case not a single murder out of the dozens he hadmitted.

    "You are not under arrest. You can leave any time you like," Nash said at the same time I said, "We are not threatening you to stay here."

    "No! I am trying to give you some background on how I knew her and now you tell me that I hurt her? I don''t want to get in trouble for something I didn''t do. You''re saying I did something I never did."

    "Okay, we understand." Now Nash sounded cating.

    "How would the two of you feel if the tables were turned on you," he imed.

    "No, we understandpletely," Nash assured once again.

    "You''re free to go whenever you want. If this makes you ufortable"

    "Now you are starting to make me ufortable," he shouted.

    "The thing is nobody was arrested on the case. They looked at all the angles they could think of and now we are looking at the ones they didn''t. That''s the procedure, right?" Nash asked matter-of-factly.

    "I don''t know"

    "Obviously you know that technology and evidence interpretation had changed over time. Would you be okay with giving us a DNA sample?" Nash asked. We had no DNA evidence, but we could make it seem like he had left behind evidence on the newest package.

    "Maybe? Now you are making me think that I should be talking to awyer," heughed. Almost nervous. "I know how this works. I have been doing this a long time and I wish I was recording this conversation. It sounds like you are trying to pin this on me."

    "You know this as well as we do, we need to identify potential cases and eliminate them," I interjected into the rant.

    "I can''t believe this!" he banged his fist on the table. Good thing he didn''t carry weapons with him because I was sure he would pull it out in this scenario to defend himself.

    "Well, we got a package this morning and worked hard on it to get all the prints and DNA samples from it. If we run it against you, will you be willing to give us that data?"

    Come on, take the bait! I willed him to do it. It wouldn''t prove anything, but I wanted to see how far he would go to wriggle out of punishment. Or did he love his son more? Which would make him talk?

    "Maybe. I know"

    "That''s all we ask. We will do what we can to put this together," Nash interrupted. "Your name is in the book. For whatever reason. And it would be irresponsible on our part to overlook you."

    "You guys are doing your job. And I have to contact somebody, so" He looked at the two of us.

    "That''s fair," was all I said.

    The Director-General got up from his chair, mumbling as he went towards the door. I shot Nash a look.

    "The analyst is waiting outside. We have him," he whispered so that he couldn''t hear us. My heart settled in my chest.

    "We let him go, see what the evidence is, and then get the cuffs on his hands," I gritted through my teeth.

    We were out of the door and the analyst was waiting jitterily beside it. "The Director-General just stormed up the stairs with his phone. He is calling awyer!" he panicked.

    "Don''t pay him attention. What did you find?" Nash tried to calm the younger man.

    The analyst turned theptop screen towards us. Pictures.

    Hundreds upon hundreds of pictures.

    Of the Director-General in various kinds of women''s clothing, gagged and bound. Some were in a pit in what looked like the backyard, while others were in their house. From the angles, I knew that the camera was not ced on a stationary surface and put on a timer. Someone was clicking these pictures from various angles.

    "It''s Benny Phillips, isn''t it? He clicked the pictures," Nash said, awe evident in his voice.

    "He was helping his father realize his serial killer dreams. It was probably why he never killed anyone himself, instead helped and nurtures others to do it," I exined.

    "We have him!" Nash cheered.

    "We do," I nodded. I turned to the analyst. "Get printouts of the photos of him and those of the victims'' ID cards and bodies. I need it in ten minutes." I looked at Nash. "Go arrest him. Take a few officers with you so that he doesn''t pull out a weapon and wriggle out of the situation. And I will go bring back all the crime-scene photos to show him the difference in lighting and angles."

    Nash gave a huge grin. "Let''s get a confession and location out of him, shall we?"

    "Let''s," I repeated.

    Just hang on a little longer, Evie. I''ming for you.

 Chapter 171: Demented Affection for His Family

    Chapter 171: Demented Affection for His Family

    I waited in front of the elevator door for the Director-General to arrive. If the media had seen this scene, they would surely have been thrilled. The man who held the highest authority in the police force in this city was being led out of the elevator, his hands cuffed behind him.

    It must have been a spectacr scene because Nash had a gleeful expression on his face as he nudged the man forward. I admit I must have looked rather relieved and ecstatic as well.

    Maybe the world didn''t know what he had done yet, therefore they would be shocked that the Director-General was being led around in this manner, but they also knew that both Nash and I worked with violent crimes. That would suffice.

    People congregated on the corridors, whispering and pointing and we patiently guided the man to the same interrogation room.

    I heard shuffling on the staircase and knew that the little analyst was rushing down it to ensure all the evidence was in our hands when we finally went in.

    Indeed, it was him. He was panting from exhaustion when he handed me a thick envelope of photographs. I sighed as I watched Nash pull Billy inside the interrogation room.

    I slipped into the observation room along with the analyst. "Have you ever watched an interrogation happen?" I asked him.

    He shook his head. "I don''t have a stomach for dead bodies and scary criminals, so I like finding clues that we can''t see with the naked eye. Only on inanimate objects!"

    I let out a smallugh, probably for the first time in three days. "You do know that dead bodies are inanimate, too, right?" I joked.

    The analyst''s eyes widenedically. "Did he really do it?" he whispered finally.

    "You already saw the proof with your own eyes, didn''t you?" I asked. "What is your name? I never caught it." I had been calling him ''the analyst'' for so long that I felt offended on his behalf.

    He blinked. "Chase," he said brightly.

    I repeated his name. "You must be wondering why we were in such a hurry to catch him, right? It''s because we needed to get him under lock and knee, hopeless about his future." I grinned. I pulled out the evidence bags and showed it to them. "Also, these."

    Chase looked at the evidence in fascination. "The phone and the gun?" he whispered.

    "The phone, gun, and identity card. With these, we can guarantee that we have the contact information we need, we have ess to all his security files for our inspection, and the gun makes sure he doesn''t go ballistic and kill us in the interrogation room."

    Chase seemed to be in awe. "You could take away all his things only if he was called into the interrogation room. And you had to arrest him with definite evidence for that or thewyer would pull tricks out of his ass to bail him out!"

    The realization was sweet. "Good job, kid," I praised. "Now, do your magic and find out the frequently called numbers. When you find a number allotted under Billy or his wife''s name, call me. It will be a secret number, so be careful no one else finds out what you are doing. And when you get the number, track it. If it is switched off, let me know where thest location it was switched on."

    I patted his shoulder. "Are we catching another criminal through this?" he looked mildly panicked. "And isn''t this uwful surveince if I go through his phone?"

    I shook my head. "We have a court order for it. Go ahead, get to it," I prompted.

    He left the phone to me and scampered away, probably to bring his equipment. He would make good of watching the interrogation. He knew how high-profile this case was.

    I turned to look inside the interrogation room. Nash had left the room, leaving Billy to his thoughts. I saw him staring at the wall, probably cooking up his alibi, but it was futile. He probably had no idea how much information we had on him.

    I heard the door creak open and Nash walked in with his hands inside his pocket.

    "How did he react?" I asked enthusiastically.

    "He was bbergasted that I was cuffing him. He looked like the world was falling apart when I read him the Miranda Rights. He was wondering what we had on him." Nash pointed towards Billy, who was in the room.

    He was ufortably shifting in his seat, but he was cing his head down and finding a position, possibly finding a position that made him look most pitiful.

    "Are we going to wait until thewyeres around or start grilling him immediately?" Nash asked after a moment of silence.

    "We''ll start before thewyer arrives. I ampiling the photographs and how they are different. All the evidence we have to make him look helpless. Then I want to talk about his family life. Bring in the fact that he hasn''t seen his wife in a while or his son and what they must think."

    Nash nodded. "If it doesn''t work out, we can appeal to thewyer to entice him. If his attitude towards his son isn''t pristine and loving, we can use bait and tell him to give us a location to reduce the chances of a death sentence, what do you think?"

    That was the best course of action. "Let''s do that," I responded confidently. "Let''s get into the interrogation room and get the truth out of him, now!"

    We waited until Chase was inside the room and set up. "I asked the tracking expert to ess myputer. We will be working simultaneously, Dr. Butler." Chase grinned.

    "Great. Can you crack this within an hour?" I inquired.

    "It''s possible. Usually, civilian phones are easy to track. If it is a burner phone, we can try some new methods. Don''t worry, Dr. Butler, please focus on the interrogation." He smiled widely.

    "I''ll let you do your work then," I acknowledged with a hint of a plea. I had never imagined such a day woulde, but I wasn''t ashamed of praising and asking for favors. My eyes were open and I knew I couldn''t have solved the case in such a short time without the help of a team. They had kept me grounded and stable. I would have fallen apart and gone off into wild goose chases otherwise.

    I sucked in a deep breath before I walked into the interrogation room. Nash closed the door behind him and we were finally seated properly.

    There was no hostility in our stance. Only, this time, the rules of interrogation were followed. We told him all his rights and seated ourselves opposite him. There was a clear distinction between us.

    The worst part, his eyes flickered to the door. He would need to cross us to reach it.

    "Billy," Nash began. "Are you clear on your rights?" he asked.

    "I am not talking before mywyeres. You have no evidence to arrest me for the murder of that girl."

    I scoffed. "You seem to be mistaken. You have not been arrested for the murder of Lee Yunxi. And what makes you think we will be mighty enough to ce our hands on the all-powerful Director-General without solid proof?"

    Billy broke out intoughter, it was the kind of maniacalughter that one expected from a viin. I looked at this man''s face carefully. I had seen pictures of him in his prime. He had looked average at best, with wide-set shoulders and a muscr body. But he had not been a head-turner. His wife, on the other hand, was a delicate beauty with a high-paying job in the private sector. She had been retired for a number of years, opting to stay home and support her husband''s career. It was also around this time that the murders had stopped happening.

    Without feeling inferior to his wife and holding such a high position, he no longer needed to kill people. He was satisfied with his life and the power he held over others. Possibly, the activities of his son had agitated him. Or maybe it had made him proud that his son was following in his footsteps.

    But this man, this old man his hair was white with arge bald patch at the center of his head. He had no charisma and his brows had a particr evil look to them. I was not a man who looked at people and deemed them criminals, but this man fit the stereotype of a sexually and power-motivated serial killer. Right down to the arch of his brown.

    "I have worked in this field long enough to call on your bluff. You are running out on time before mywyer arrives so you are nting the seed of doubt in my head, right?" he chortled.

    "Indeed, Billy Phillips knows how it works. You have handled so many confidential cases and helped brush so many crimes aside that you are not scared ofing out of this without your good name. You are confident and that is good," I prompted.

    Nash, who was sitting beside me, was silent as he crossed his leg over the other and watched intently.

    "But I wonder if the media will think the same," I injected. His eyes turned sharp and a small frown pressed on his lips. "I assume you called yourwyer but never spoke to your wife and son. Every police officer in the building knows what happened to you do you think the media will be held back? The articles wille out in a few minutes and every one your wife and son know will call and text them asking what was happening. They will find out in the most unpleasant way that their family''s Billy Phillips brutally raped and murdered women and their families." I clucked my tongue.

    I could see the panic on his face. A man could be indifferent to being punished. Yet he loved his family in some demented way. He wouldn''t want to hurt them so deeply.

    Billy Phillips, what will you choose?

 Chapter 172: On His Way

    Chapter 172: On His Way

    "You think too lowly of what I am capable of. I have a secretary and a team of representatives who will stop the news," he said quietly. "Just because you are using me and wrongfully arresting me, it doesn''t mean that I will let the word spread across the nation," he huffed.

    "Yes, we know that you are capable of cleaning up other crime scenes to protect high-profile people. Wasn''t that why you got suspended all those years ago?" Nash prompted. "When was this around again?" Nash turned to ask me.

    "Around the time Lee Yunxi was murdered," I said confidently. I had to cluck my tongue. "The media likes to hunt down news. Even if your team stops people here from speaking, the prosecutor''s office might not feel the same way," I told him. "I wonder how your wife will feel."

    "My wife trusts me," he breathed. He raised his brow at me confidently.

    "Of course, your wife might not have known, but after we show her all the evidence, she won''t think otherwise. She''lle running to meet you, too," Nash said. "It''s going to be time for her to send lunch, won''t it? Your driver will find out before the media will."

    Nash, this cunning man, he was toying with Billy like nobody''s business. His gloves were off, he was going straight in for the throat. We had all the evidence we needed, we just needed to take control of the situation.

    "It''s a shame, though. I think you would want to meet your son the most at this moment," I prompted. Billy''s head snapped up in my direction.

    "You" he started. "Bastard, what do you want from me?" he asked, his voice a hiss.

    "I want justice. I want to know the number of people you killed. How about you start with that?" I folded my hands on the desk and leaned in.

    The door opened and I saw an officer peering in hesitantly.

    I knew that thewyer was already in the station. Billy took a sigh of relief.

    "Let him in," Nash pronounced, not in the least bit challenged by the change in event.

    He didn''t speak to us, so we would have to appeal to the better judgment of thewyer.

    But it wasn''t onewyer who entered. It was three. I looked at the entourage and tried to hide a smile. Powerful people really had connections. Even though Collins was on probation, they still found a number of star-studded attorneys to defend him and get him out of jail.

    We had to pull out some chairs to let them sit.

    Thewyer huffed and looked around the room. "Is this conversation being recorded?" the man with the peppered hair asked.

    "Of course. As per procedure. Your client has been read the Miranda Rights and allowed the chance to get awyer." Nash waved the signed paper in front of him. "Here is the documentation of the same."

    Thewyer took it in his hand and read over the paper before briefly nodding.

    "Mr. Phillips, have they asked you any leading questions?" he asked.

    "I didn''t answer," he gruffly said. Thewyers sighed in relief.

    "I assume he is a suspect for a murder? It happened a decade ago?" he said.

    "Correct. It''s not a single murder, though. It''s a serial killing case that we suspect him off," I acknowledged. Thewyers gave out a collective gasp.

    "What sort of nder is this?" The mainwyer asked.

    "It''s not nder if we don''t tell anyone about this. Except for a core group of three people, no one knows what we are working on," Nash said calmly.

    "And who are these three people?" The supervisingwyer asked, looking at the two of us.

    "This is our consultant, Dr. Butler who was assigned the cold case and was working on solving it. I am Detective Nash, Head of Behavioral Studies, and a crime analyst by the name of Chase Frank who went through all the evidence are the only people involved," Nash informed him.

    Thewyer nodded. "Thank you for taking care of the privacy of my client. Might I ask the evidence you have?" he pondered.

    "We are not here to show you the evidence we have. You can see them during the court proceeding," I gave thewyer a scathing look. They really thought they could drag us along with their words.

    "At least let us know if it is conclusive evidence!" One of them imed.

    "We received a floppy disk with all the information," I smiled.

    "Who sent it?" Thewyer asked, startled.

    "Your client. He tried to be stealthy and sent us a package because someone else took his name and sent over the ID of a victim," Nash informed.

    "And that is your evidence? Fabricated evidence in a floppy disk?" thewyer scoffed.

    "You must think we have been eating grass all these years. We found pictures that your client took of the victims. One of the pictures has his feet in frame, too. Add in pictures he took at his house of the other evidence."

    Thewyer choked and looked at the man.

    "Mr. Phillips, you might not have known but forensic science and the art of evidence analysis havee a long way since you were in an investigative mode. Even if you delete all the files on aputer or a memory storage system, we have the equipment to retrieve all of them. The floppy disk is also in his name and definitely one taken from the collection in his office. We matched with the equipment records." I gave all the people in the room a keen look.

    Awyer was about to leave when I stopped them. "Are you going to call someone to clean up your client''s house?" I insinuated.

    He frowned.

    "It''s no use," Nash interjected from beside me. "We already received a court order to search his property. They are already at the Director-General''s house, unfortunately," he announced.

    There was pin-drop silence in the room.

    "You can''t get a court order this soon!" the headwyer swore.

    "We can. It''s a high-profile case and your client is a flight risk on top of being an influential person who can alter evidence. The judges thought we should keep everything ready for when the timees." Nash had yed a little trick. I hadn''t been sure if this was going to be done, but Nash had prepared this without me knowing.

    And I was thankful for it.

    "Billy, it seems that your wife knows already," I prompted. "I wonder if your son knows as well. Do you think he wille to see you?" The expression in his eyes wasplex.

    "What kind of mind games are you ying?" Billy yelled.

    I looked at thewyer while ignoring him. "With the evidence on our hand, even if Mr. Phillips doesn''t confess to the crimes or plead guilty, we can prosecute him." My voice was clear without a shred of doubt. "He has killed dozens of people. And the nature of the killings was brutal. There are no signs of insanity that you can appeal for and he indiscreetly killed children, too." I gave him a pointed look. "Your client will get the death penalty. Many times over."

    The thing about our state was, they still had the death penalty. I didn''t believe in it, but it was a good tool to get more information out of the criminals.

    Thewyer frowned. "I will not allow my client to speak unless we see the evidence," he announced.

    "Very well," I said pointedly. "We will require to speak to Mr. Phillips'' wife and son about this matter. We will start calling them immediately," I told him.

    Thewyer frowned. "Is there something you want in particr?" he asked. "If there is a deal you want to discuss, tell me."

    "I can''t help you out on a deal, I am not part of the prosecution. But someone who confesses to their crimes and helps abet others gets a lower sentence." That was all I said. "Mr. Phillips, can you please give us your family members'' active numbers?" I asked.

    The man looked up. "I don''t have it," he said firmly.

    "Of course," I countered. "It''s fine. We will find them out soon enough."

    Thewyer whispered into Billy''s ears and his eyes grew solemn. "Okay," he said quietly.

    Thewyer turned to me. "What is it that Dr. Butler wants?" he asked. "Tell us truthfully and we will try to make it happen."

    Anything for a lowered punishment, huh? They hadn''t even confessed to the crime.

    "I want one truthful answer from you, Billy," I said. My expression was cold as I stared at him. "Where is your son, Benny Phillips, right now?"

    Thewyer tensed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

    "As I said, we need to talk to the family for information, nothing else," Nash spoke up. He wanted to take the heat off me.

    "It sounds like you think he did something wrong," thewyer used.

    "I said no such thing," I countered. "We want to chat with him."

    Billy hung his head. He had watched me to figure out what I knew. He was resigned to the fact that he had been caught. Now the dilemma remained, would he rat his son out? He wasn''t sure I knew it was his son who kidnapped Evie, though. That was what was holding him back.

    "If you promise not to arrest him," he said quietly.

    I raised my brow in amusement. I didn''t make a promise, but he spoke nheless.

    He whispered a location. He sounded truthful.

    "Are you sure?" Nash asked all of a sudden. I turned to him. He looked calm, not a sh of emotion on his face.

    "Yes," Billy whispered.

    "Thank you for telling us the truth," Nashplimented. He pulled the cellphone out and showed me the screen. Chase had found the same location.

    I breathed in relief.

    "I''ll get going," I whispered.

    "Best of luck," Nash replied, his eyes filled with worry. "Bring her back safely."

    I nodded and I had no idea how, but I was already out of the station, sitting in one of the police cars, driving to the location where Evie was being held.

 Chapter 173: Seething Rage

    Chapter 173: Seething Rage

    Evie POV:

    I had rarely awoken with such a terrible headache before. I wondered why I felt like I had been hit by a train. But slowly, the splitting headache gave rise to another feeling. A feeling that made me want to curl up and cry anew. I was sure I was being watched. In the absolute darkness behind my closed eyelids, I heard the gasping breaths of others. It bounced off the walls and returned to me, piercing mepletely.

    I knew the sound of emptiness well. I had listened to the screams bouncing off it for months. It seemed like ages ago, yet it was also yesterday. How was I back here?

    For a moment, I tried my hardest to focus on the tip of my toes, trying to move them slightly so that the dream would pass. But soon enough, I found myself paralyzed.

    It was a dream, I told myself. How could it be anything else?

    I couldn''t remember when I fell asleep or where I fell asleep, but it had to be that right?

    I sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, willing the monsters away as I fought to open my eyes. Heavy. So heavy that I couldn''t even try and squint through my lids to see where I was.

    There seemed to be light beyond my closed lids and I was sure I was not blindfolded. Then

    I had to think. I had to think about how I got there. Why couldn''t I move my muscles?

    Why did my throat burn and my body feel like all the energy had been sucked out from it? I shivered involuntarily despite the heat in the room.

    Evie, control yourself. Use your brain. What happened to you?

    Piece the clues together and find the right answer, I screamed at myself.

    Another deep breath.

    Okay, symptoms. What were they? Dry and burning throat. Profuse sweating and shivers. Inability to control the body. Fatigue. Disorientation. Paranoia.

    I didn''t even know how long I had been there. Or how I had gotten here. So, I added another clue.

    Memory distortion.

    Adding these two together, I could only think of one thing that could make all of these things happen at the same time.

    Cool-down from drug use.

    I was not one to take drugs, therefore, I had been injected with it, or somehow forced to have it. But what kind of drug? I didn''t know as of yet.

    The thing about controlling your mind when your body was rebelling was the greatest struggle. You were lucid, but your brain couldn''t send the proper signals to your body. So, I had to focus.

    I had to let the effect of the drugpletely wear off.

    I didn''t know how long it took me toe down, but I finally did.

    I blinked before I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dimly lit but just enough for me to see the people. Half of their faces were cast over by shadows.

    I noticed three others in the room. All bound to the chair very tightly. They seemed to be staring at me. I tried to speak but my voice didn''te out. I cleared my throat and gulped a little bit of saliva before trying once again.

    "Hi," I said calmly. The faces in the room were familiar.

    The woman from the video was sitting across from me, tear tracks running down her cheeks. The little girl who had gone missing sat on my right side, looking at me with fear. She had no tears in her eyes, which was good. I looked her over and knew for sure that no one had harmed her physically yet.

    I looked to my left and saw the man in the white shirt. His eyes acted out fear well, but my weary yet trained eyes could sense that his shirt was a little too crisp despite the obvious attempts at making it look worn. There was a small gash at the edge of his lips and I wondered how he had gotten it.

    "How many people are in the room?" I said in a husky voice I couldn''t even recognize as my own.

    There was silence.

    "Four," the little girl finally said. Though the room looked small, I couldn''t see behind me. I felt like I was being watched but I was not sure if there was someone standing behind me or it was just the drugs impairing my judgment.

    "There is no one behind me?" I asked again, just to be sure.

    The girl shook her head. I nodded to myself. I took another look around the room.

    "How long have I been out?" I inquired. The woman opposite me looked at me with hostility. I didn''t understand it at first, but when I nced around the room, I could guess that she feared she would be killed with new captives entering the house.

    "We''ve had one meal since you came. So, about six hours," the girl answered.

    "Gene, right?" I said with what I thought was a smile. The girl looked at me startled. "Have they tried to drug you?"

    I prayed that they hadn''t. She shook her head vehemently.

    "Good," I breathed in relief.

    I turned to the other woman. "Jade Walsh, right?" She blinked, not knowing what to do. "Apologies for taking so long."

    I didn''t know why I said it. It wasn''t my fault, but I wondered if they were under the influence all this time. I didn''t even know if that was better or not.

    Six hours, was it? That meant Nash and Sebastian knew by now. They would be searching for me. With them on the trail, I knew it was only a matter of time before we were found. The question was, how would I keep these people alive until then?

    Where would this game take me? What did the man in the white shirt have waiting for me?

    "What''s your name?" I asked, turning to thest person in the room.

    His lips quivered as he responded. "Benny Phillips." He wasn''t lying. Maybe if I had asked his name the first time I met him, I wouldn''t have ended up here.

    "Hi Benny, I am Evie," I whispered. I tried to go through the list of people I hade across at the station and every news article about people in power I had read over the years.

    I know the surname was familiar, but I couldn''t pinpoint who it was.

    "You react very violently to drugs," Benny whispered. I sensed a shred of excitement in his voice. "You kept analyzing what was happening around you. Very strange."

    I smiled. "Do you know what drug it was?"

    Maybe Benny would be helpful enough to tell me what they had used. I could pinpoint and understand the symptoms better. I could estimate my reactions and decide what path to take to help all these people to survive. Including Benny. I wanted him alive.

    If my intrusive thoughts got the better of me during a drug-induced episode, I might just end up killing him brutally for tormenting me. I sucked in another lungful of air. The air smelled moldy and I wrinkled my nose.

    Drug and health hazard. Excellent.

    "No idea," he said shortly but he scrutinized me closely.

    "How did they get you?" I enquired. I wanted his official story. Knowing that he mixed the truth with lies, I had to let my mind take hints from his story and put together the events that led to me being here.

    "I was waiting for a friend at the given location when they pounced on me and knocked me unconscious," he imed. I nced at his bleeding lip and nodded.

    I jogged my memory for a long minute before I came to the conclusion. The old man must have tried to keep her upied until Benny and the daughter came from behind and overpower me. There had to be a scuffle which resulted in Benny getting a cut on his lip. I had probably headbutted him. Once the other two came in, I would be sure.

    "I don''t remember how they got me," I blinked and looked around to see the expression of the others. Suspicion, fright, excitement.

    "Why would they get so many people?" Jade asked, her voice shaking.

    I stared at her intently. "It''s an experiment," I told her. "Don''t worry," I assured her. "It''s going to be okay. You''re going to be okay." My voice was a whisper.

    I heard a heavy door opening behind me and stiffened. I could see the others turn in the direction. A brighter light beam fell on the wall opposite to me but it vanished when the door closed.

    I heard two pairs of footsteps.

    I had seen them work on video, now I had to see how they actually interacted without the presence of cameras. They entered wearing masks and I sighed in relief.

    This ensured that they didn''t have any ns on killing us. Maybe they even nned on drugging and dumping these two girls after the entertainment was over.

    It was better than death.

    "Little officer, how are you doing?" the old man asked. The woman remained eerily quiet. She was a step behind like she was waiting for her father''s permission to do something.

    Not much different from what I saw on the live-streams. The only thing that bothered me was the look in her eyes as she looked at the women in the room. There was hostility and possessive rage in them.

    I had thought the father was the main aggressor but never thought that the one who lured the women in would feel a seething rage.

 Chapter 174: Do His Worst

    Chapter 174: Do His Worst

    Something to make a note of.

    "Not happy about being tied up," I responded lightly. "I am upset you outnumbered me to take me down, too," I breathed. I smiled at the pair.

    My words didn''t give away the fact that I knew Benny was in on the action. I could see his curious gaze fall on me, but I knew he didn''t suspect that I recognized him.

    Yet.

    "If you hadn''t been drugged up and slurring, I would have taken you seriously," the older man said gruffly. He walked over to me to make sure that I was secured to my ce. "You''re not going out of here. I''m going to make you my little toy and extinguish that fire."

    I croaked out augh. "Believe me, there is nothing you can do to me that will have that effect. The worst you can do is kill me." Exactly. After what I had been through. He could do nothing worse.

    Though the slits showing his eyes were small, I could see the darkness.

    "Move back. We both know you can''t harm me," I whispered, soft enough that only the two of us could hear. "Aren''t you here to give us food? Go ahead."

    As long as I was confident and rebellious, I would be alive. As long as I kept infuriating these people, their focus would solely be on me and not on the two others.

    With Benny in the same room, unable to make his opinions known, they wouldn''t be rash to do something that he didn''t want. For now, that was the game n.

    The man grumbled and unlocked the cuff on my right hand. I twisted it to see the damage done and realized that except for some soreness, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

    Good. I eyed them closely as they unlocked the right hands of each person sitting in the circle and then ce an extension to the chairs that acted as tables.

    The te had rice and a side of vegetable dishes. Which was good. That meant they didn''t have money to buy meat products and once they ran out of money, they would go out to buy groceries.

    I knew Nash and Sebastian would catch them the second they stepped out.

    On closer inspection, I could see that this ce didn''t have sockets. The power was probablying from a generator. That would mean they didn''t have a running refrigerator as it took a lot of power to run.

    They had to have some supplies stacked and once they used it up, they had to go out. I had to eat.

    We were not given any spoons or utensils, probably because they thought I could use them to get out. And that was okay.

    I had no appetite, but I had to eat. They waited around until I took some food into my mouth before leaving.

    I didn''t spit it out. I saw the others preparing to eat and stopped them. "It has drugs in it," I told them calmly. I turned to the little girl. "Gene, don''t eat anything for a while, okay? Not even the water. It can sh with your medication."

    She nodded before a flurry of tears escaped her.

    "Tell me, are there cameras anywhere behind me?" I asked. I only trusted this little frightened girl to answer truthfully.

    "What am I looking for?" she asked quietly, her eyes panicked.

    "Anything protruding from the walls or a small colored light," I exined. She looked closely before shaking her head. I put in more of the food in my body as I carefully looked around.

    I couldn''t see a camera either. Bugging devices cost a fortune, so I didn''t think they would have it. As for Benny, I wanted to see what game he yed.

    "Jade, Benny. Listen carefully. Gene will not eat but we need to. We need to finish their supplies."

    Jade hissed. "Are you crazy?" she yelled.

    "They don''t have enough food to feed all of us and they will not kill us without cause," I exined to her slowly. "You have been here the longest but they didn''t kill you because you still have that fire in you. You need to resist everything the guy tries to do to you. At all costs. If the woman does something, try not to protest too much. She''s the one who will kill you."

    I thought for a moment. "Gene has pre-existing conditions and she can''t take drugs," I was talking as I ate. I needed to keep sane for the most part. "Moreover, their target is me. They can''t kill me so I can infuriate them enough to keep them off you all."

    Beside me Benny was shoveling down food as well. I knew that it wasn''t drugged, but I saw his eyes droop as he had more. After cleaning up his te in record time, he slowly dozed off.

    "How do you know so much?" Jade asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

    "Working for the police. I was going to make the arrest when I was taken." I felt only two pairs of eyes on me. I looked over at Benny and saw his eyes closed.

    I turned to the two of them, conscious of Benny listening into the conversation.

    I held the two women''s eyes. ''Don''t trust him,'' I mouthed. They looked confused for a second. I looked towards Benny for a second for turning back.

    They stiffened. "Finish the food. I can ask for more, okay?"

    Control your body, Evie.

    The little girl sniffed as she held back her cries.

    The female entered with her mask still on. She looked at Gene and shook her head. "Why didn''t you eat?" she asked carefully.

    "I am not hungry," Gene whispered. She threw a look at me, pleading me to help.

    "I am still hungry. You can give it to me, yes?" I asked. The woman threw me a hateful look before picking up the te and cing it before me.

    "Don''t you get to eat?" she sneered.

    "Been busy with fighting crime. Just give it to me," I told her in a scathing tone. She eyes me suspiciously before waiting for me to finish the whole thing. I took the first bite and knew it wasn''t drugged.

    This time.

    I ate at a rapid pace, feeling my control slowly but surely slipping. I pressed my hand against the metal shackles, the sharp end digging into my wrist and keeping me lucid.

    The quantity wasn''t too much, so I shoveled it down. The te was clean. "Can I get more?" I asked softly.

    I knew they couldn''t give me more drugs. It would literally kill me. She was a certified nurse, she wouldn''t do it knowingly not when Benny was watching. His eyes were open and he watched with rapt attention.

    She huffed and walked away. She returned with another te of food. It was tasteless but surely drug-free. I ate it like it was myst meal.

    I remembered all those times when I got nothing to eat for days and told myself it was okay. I could puke it outter. As long as I was finishing their rations.

    "All done," I said drowsily. The te was taken away and everything was cleaned up.

    They were gone and even Jade''s head lolled down, unconscious.

    They had been given sleeping medicines. I wasn''t sure what I had gotten, though.

    "Thank you," Gene whispered.

    "Don''t worry about it, kid. I''ll get you out of here," I promised.

    I don''t remember much from after that, but surely when I came into consciousness, the three other people were staring at me with horror.

    I looked at them curiously. I opened my mouth to speak but I couldn''t make a sound.

    My eyes widened in panic and I felt a tear trickle down my cheeks.

    "You you screamed a lot" Gene told me after a minute.

    "You have some horrifying hallucinations," Jade said humorlessly. She eyed me warily. I eyed her curiously. "You were screaming and writhing. Woke us up from the drugs. You were that loud." She shook her head, slightly shuddering as she remembered everything.

    "What?" I managed to croak out.

    "We tried asking you questions. You were seeing things" Benny said quietly. "Sounded like monsters and killers torturing you."

    I grimaced.

    "You shouldn''t have goaded her on for information," Gene whispered at Benny. I looked at her for confirmation and sure enough, it was true.

    The drugs the drugs had made me hallucinate and Benny had egged me on and made me relive things from my past. He was ying at something.

    "You did everything he asked you to," she whispered with horror. "It was scary."

    I squeezed my eyes shut. "Sorry." And then I shook my head to catch some control. "I did as you guys asked?" I squeezed out.

    Gene nodded. "He asked you to describe the people and you did. Benny even asked you to try and escape." She started to cry.

    I frowned mildly, not understanding what that meant until I felt a sharp pain in my hands and legs. I looked down and sure enough, they were bleeding profusely.

    "I tried to break them?" Or saw them out I wasn''t sure. It surely looked horrifying. Gene nodded. "Don''t think about it. Forget it if you can. Nothing happened, okay?" I assured. "It was the drug. I am not a person who would hurt herself."

    I could slowly but surely speak.

    "What type of drug was it? Why did it not happen to us?" Jade asked, now hysterical.

    "They gave me the drug specifically. Don''t worry."

    The door behind me opened and I heard rushed and furious footsteps.

    "You bitch!" the man screamed. I felt the sting of a p on my cheeks but didn''t turn away. "Why are they contacting all my family members?" he shouted.

    "Ah, so they know who you are. It won''t be long, then," I said ominously. The mask came off and I saw his face in stark reality.

    "You think they can find you?" he said through his teeth.

    I blinked. "You kidnapped a person who works with the police. Of course, they will hunt you down." I shrugged. "You have no clue who I am, do you?" I smiled.

    His eyes widened for a second before hardening. "You must think of yourself as a hotshot." Heughed.

    "My fianc is a world-famous criminal psychologist and my mentor is the head of Behavioral Studies. You might think you have connections within the police, but that won''t matter." I had tough. I hadn''t thought about it that well, but I remembered that I had some strong connections too. "The police might give up on me, but my fianc and mentor won''t. Guess what, my soon-to-be father-inw has a securities firm. He used to be a general in the army."

    The man''s eyes looked down at me with rage. The slew of profanities poured out and I remained silent. He threatened the most horrible things on the but I didn''t even blink.

    "Do your worst, old man. I look forward to it."

 Chapter 175: Manipulations and Games

    Chapter 175: Maniptions and Games

    There was silence for a long moment. "Are you challenging me?" the old man asked. Clearly, it had hurt his inted but fragile ego.

    "You don''t like it when a small girl challenges you, is it? You used your daughter to kidnap unsuspecting and vulnerable women, drugged them into unmovable objects, and then treated them as you wanted to."

    His eyes burned with anger. I extended my cheek to him, d that his p had woken me up from the drowsiness I was feeling.

    "You want to y a game with me?" he seethed.

    "But you''re not qualified to y any games with me, don''t you think?" I countered. "You knew you could never beat us, so you drugged us and tied us up. If you have the balls, go ahead and leave us undrugged. Let''s see how long youst."

    He mulled over it for a second.

    "Don''t talk nonsense," he hissed. "I will never fall for this nonsense." He stormed out but the daughter lingered. She stared at me for a solid moment, her eyes unsure before she went away.

    "Evie, should you" Gene started.

    "Don''t worry. They won''t kill me," I told them. "Tell me about your families," I asked them. For the two girls, it was to make them feel better and take their minds off what was happening, however much was possible, but for Benny, I wanted to know his background. Foreknowledge was important in such matters.

    The other two spoke, their backgrounds were casual. Normal middle-ss families had no power to fight back if their family was hurt by powerful forces.

    I turned to Benny. "What about you?" I asked.

    "I day trade. My dad my dad is in the police," he said quietly.

    I smiled, not showing the fear I suddenly felt. Phillips if I thought about someone in the police who had a lot of power, I could only think about the Director-General.

    If that was the case, Benny''s father could very well call off the search when he found out his son was behind this event.

    "Is that so?" I shook my head. "Well, we don''t need to worry too much then. You have more power than me, it seems." It wasn''t meant to unt. I had no reason to tell him where I came from, but it was a small jab that I felt entitled to make.

    He coughed but didn''t respond.

    The daughter came back with the food. The setup was made. She waited this time for me to eat. I took the first bite and sure enough, the drug was there.

    With one hand free, I ate as I looked at her. "Why do you hide behind that mask?" I asked casually. The others quietened down. "Your father already showed his face to us, so it''s no point in hiding anymore," I told them.

    "He''s not my father," she barked, taking a threatening step towards me.

    "After what he did to you, I hope he is not your father. I wouldn''t wish that upon my worst enemy," I whispered. "But the mask. Why not take it off? He took it off already because he knows none of us here will speak about who he is." The words were framed very carefully, not giving away if I meant that we would all die or some of us would survive and still not speak about it.

    "If you know that you are going to die, you shouldn''t make so much fuss. You are clearly trying to get on our nerves!" she used.

    I nodded my head. "Absolutely. I wanted to piss him off and talk to you." I paused, giving her a moment to soak in that information. "He''s the one who forces you to do all of these. He''s scary and dangerous and it must hurt," I choked for the effect.

    I had used my understanding of the psyche of the victim for good all this time, but this one time, I willed myself to use it for my benefit. I had to exploit it.

    Would I forgive myself? Yes. Because this was the only choice. I had often found the phrase an oxymoron. There was only one way to the end, then why call it a choice? There was no alternative, to begin with.

    "Fuck you." That was all she said. Maybe it was the drug in my system, but I giggled.

    "A pervert actually took a picture of me and my husband on our date and sent it to our address. I don''t even like exhibitionism but everyone pushes me to it." I snickered some more, my body slowly going out of control.

    I looked down at the food. They had changed the medication. Or the excessive use of drugs was dulling my control over my senses and emotions. I would find out but I wondered how hard it would be.

    But my words seemed to stir the woman. The pictures. That was what had made her grow stiff. "Oh, that''s right. Your father took videos of you it''s all over the inte." I hung my head, feigning shame. "Sorry, I saw them." Thest bit I spoke was thrown towards Benny. "I suppose I am no better than the pervert who stalked me, huh?" I said innocently.

    "She''s really high," Jade said, sounding horrified. Really, I was extremely high. My eyes were down to tunnel vision and I was almost sure that my words were garbled, but the others still understood what I was saying.

    "You you still have a way out, you know? We haven''t seen your face when your dad gets caught, you can get away unscathed." This was the carrot I dangled in front of her.

    No matter how much you love your abusive father, when faced with jail-time and eternal agony, you would choose to protect yourself. No sane human would choose love over their happiness.

    Only deluded people like Alicia who fancied psychopaths to be in love with them were so easily manipted.

    Take the bait, I willed her.

    "Do you think I am a fool?" she hissed.

    I shrugged. "You can believe what you want. I have worked with the police long enough to know the ins and outs of the system. I mean the worst that can happen is you go to jail."

    I burst intoughter. "Why are youughing?" she said frantically. "Why the fuck are youughing?" She was growing more hysterical.

    "Men in jail get abused and killed if they mess with the wrong people or molest children. Women in jail are tortured if they torture and aid in the rape of other people. Do you know the worst thing? Cop killers aren''t popr. The guards have enough people vying for their affection to let someone off you." I pressed my lips together. "I don''t stand for it, but life will be horrible from now on."

    The daughter leaned against the wall, defeated as I ate my share and then Gene''s. I heard the little girl''s stomach growl and looked at her momentarily.

    I could hardly control the jerking of my body. Agony it was agony not being in control. So, when the distant voice of the daughter floated into my ears, I gritted my jaw to stop talking.

    I must not say anything when not under control. I couldn''t say something wrong and ruin the little chance I had of protecting these two women.

    "Evie?" I heard a whisper from my right. I turned to the poor little girl. "Are you okay?" she asked.

    I couldn''t even nod to reassure her.

    "You''re grinding your teeth. It isn''t good for you," she told me.

    "Can''t help," I opened my mouth to say. "Sorry for eating," I apologized.

    "No. Thank you." She looked down at her legs and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

    "Sorry," I said once again. The next thing I knew, everything was burning. At first, I was sure it was scalding water that was poured over me, but then slowly and surely, I recognized that it had been ice water. So cold that my body couldn''t differentiate between cold and feeling like my skin was melting off.

    "Tell me how!" the daughter yelled. I looked around wildly to find the two women crying. Even Benny seemed to put on an act.

    "Too drugged," I muttered. I groaned when the shivers set in. I didn''t say more and pretended to sleep. I don''t know how much time passed but I finally felt clear-headed enough to open my eyes. The lights in the room were bright.

    Unlike when I was brought in, I could see everything with rity.

    "Awake?" Benny asked softly. There was an edge to his voice. I almost sensed anger. I wondered why. Had I put a pause in his ns?

    The daughter was slumped against the wall, sleeping. The father was nowhere in sight.

    "Why is she here?" I asked. I could barely recognize my voice. It hurt so much to speak that I felt tears prickling at my eye.

    Gene and Jade shook their heads. They didn''t know. I turned to Benny. "She wants to know how she can get away. I don''t think she is letting the dade in." He sounded almost peeved.

    "Are you upset?" I asked casually. His head turned to me and he watched me.

    "Of course! I have been kidnapped!" he snapped.

    I grinned. I saw the daughter stirring from the corner of my eyes and waited for her to fully wake up. She finally did and looked at me like I was her savior.

    "What?" I pretended not to know what she wanted.

    "Tell me how how do I" she couldn''t even finish the sentence. She was smart not to admit to what she had done.

    "I need you to promise me that you won''t drug Gene or me any longer," I proposed calmly.

    "Are you crazy?" she hissed. I stared at her.

    "You''re pouring two sets of drugged tes. Keep doing that." I don''t know if anyone heard that, but her eyes widened in horror. I red at her, stopping her from giving out my foreknowledge right there.

    "I can''t tell you if I can''t think straight. Understood?" I pressed harder.

    She nodded hesitantly. "Tell me." She grabbed my injured wrists in a manner that made me grit my teeth to keep from screaming my lungs out.

    I had already noticed the slight swelling around the wounded area. There was no way a trained nurse wouldn''t have noticed the same.

    "You have my cellphone. Pull up thest picture in my gallery and buy the exact thing." The insulin shots, I had to get them here for this girl to survive.

    She stood in stunned silence for a second. "Are you ying me?" she hissed, her face lingering threateningly close to mine.

    "I amying out my terms. If you follow, you go scot-free." I didn''t tell her the adverse effect, though. That was out of the question. One should only show the profit from a n.

 Chapter 176: Pretending and Equivocating

    Chapter 176: Pretending and Equivocating

    "Yes," I said. It was a barefaced lie. I was sure that the drug helped my face remain stoic and free of any signs of my lie slipping through.

    She inched back before moving out of the room.

    Benny was eyeing me curiously and I could tell that he was slowly losing patience. He had worked very hard toe in front of me in this manner. He was ready to test me and my pretending not to remember him or have no clue was thoroughly confusing him.

    I could see it clearly in his eyes.

    "Why did you do that?" he asked. I was impressed by the hint of fear in his voice. It was surely pretense, but at least he was trying.

    "What do you mean?" I asked, blinking my eyes.

    "My dad is high up in the police so I was trained in hostage situations," he said in a hurry. It was true, high ranking officials in the government and big businessmen often took sses on this subject so that they didn''t get killed if a financially-motivated criminal took them hostage.

    How the rich live!

    "Oh? What did they teach you?" I enquired. I was also curious as to what he would tell me. The truth or something else.

    "We were told not to speak unless we are directly being spoken to. I was told not to overly sympathize with the hostage-taker, too. One wrong move and you can end up dead, don''t you know?" he said in a biting remark.

    From the corner of my eyes, I saw Jade quiver in ce. Her hateful re was back.

    "If you don''t keep quiet, we''ll get killed. So, please stop talking!" he pressed. His eyes flitted to the other two people in the room.

    "Is that really what you want to say?" I asked finally.

    "What else would I say?" he looked offended but I could see the mirth in his eyes.

    "You''re General Director Phillips'' son, right?" I stared at him intently. He looked stunned for a second before nodding hesitantly. "How did they capture you again?"

    He didn''t answer. "What an eclectic group we are, huh?" Iughed. "One person who was brought here to torture and turn into a sex ve. One person who saw the kidnapping and was brought along to make sure no one else found out. One person who was investigating the matter and got kidnapped because they found out the real criminals." I paused for my words to settle in. "Why did they bring you in? There is no logic to you being here."

    That threw him off. I was getting sick and tired of his pretense, so I wanted to y with him a little. I wanted to speed up his reactions. The less calm he was, the more control I would have over the situation. Therefore, I could only instigate him.

    "How should I know? Maybe they have something to do with my father."

    I hung my head and my shoulders shook with silentughter.

    "What are youughing about?" Jade spoke up finally, paranoia clear in her voice.

    "I just think getting kidnapped twice in my life is a real impossibility." And then Iughed some more. "Did you know that the probability of a person being attacked by a serial killer once in their life is lesser than being struck by lightning?"

    Gene grew very silent. "And the probability of meeting two is impossible. I have met a lot of serial killers by now because of my work, but I have already been abducted twice and been held captive by four serial killers." I think myugh was hysterical at this point.

    "Don''t you think it is funny?" I couldn''t stop.

    "You you have experience?" Jade whispered. "I thought you were helping them so"

    I red at her. "I know how tomunicate with killers and criminals. Negotiation and interrogation of victims is my specialization. Even another serial killer isn''t as good at convincing people as I am," I told her.

    She frowned.

    "Benny, right?" I turned to him. "You''ve been following your instructor to the best of your capacity and staying silent. And you should keep doing that. You won''t die this time. But leave my life in my own hands. I don''t need you to teach me how to manage myself."

    I think my voice was too loud.

    "Why are you shouting at me?" he asked, affronted. "I am just trying to save myself!"

    I scoffed. "Then don''t try to hurt others. Don''t makements or contradict anything I say. Just sit there and watch the show like you intended to. Don''t put these two in danger," I sneered.

    Gene sniffed and I knew that she was holding back her tears. She hadn''t met Benny''s eyes since I told them to be careful. Jade was more cautious, so she remained suspicious of the rest of us. But Gene innocent Gene didn''t know how to hide her thoughts.

    If Benny wasn''t focusing solely on me, he would have caught her weird reactions long ago.

    There was one thing that made me think, though. Benny was cautious but he didn''t seem to be this evil mastermind that I had imagined him to be. He was missing signs and looking bewildered in this situation.

    He was clearly not in control but he wanted to be.

    That gave me great pleasure.

    He grew eerily silent.

    Actually, the idea to get the female assant to open my phone and find the exact medication was an attempt to give out a signal to Sebastian. He would be looking for my cellphone and where thest signal was. If they brought it with them, they would surely open the phone and give out a signal to our location.

    "How long have we been here?" I asked.

    "ording to the meals it''s been more than twenty-four hours since you arrived," Genemented. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.

    "When you see the insulin bottle, you''ll be able to recognize if it is the right one, right?" I coaxed her to respond.

    She nodded. "I know how to administer the shot, too. My parents taught me," she said quietly.

    I squeezed my eyes shut. "I don''t know if they drugged you, but if they did, I don''t want your medication to sh. Look at the bottle, confirm with me. I will take care of the rest, okay?"

    I waited for her to respond. She nodded hurriedly.

    "Why don''t you try to save yourself and leave us to care for ourselves?" Jade asked, perplexed.

    I shot a look at Benny. "I''ve been in this position before. I survived it once, I know I will survive again. The others who were with me didn''t have the same luck because I was inexperienced back then. Now that I can help you, I won''t sit around and watch you be killed. Understood?" I barked.

    I had to be hard on Jade. She had gotten used to being treated poorly, so I couldn''t give her sympathy. She would be more suspicious. Indeed, no one understood the pain of others, so she would assume that I was being ingenuine. I could only bemanding and allow her to feel secure in my rationale.

    Gene on the other hand saw me as her shield, as a protector. So, I had to grit my teeth and make sure not to show her pain or confusion, or fear. If she was reassured, she wouldn''t make anyments that would hurt the three of us.

    This was managing the scene.

    Nothing else.

    More time passed and the daughter was finally back. She indeed had a bottle of medicine in her hand. She came over to me and showed me the bottle. It looked like the same one I had seen, so I looked at Gene.

    "Show it to the little girl," I asked. She did as she was asked. The bottle was passed to Gene and she looked disappointed.

    "Evie, this is not the same dose," Gene informed me. I turned to re at her.

    "You''re a nurse, don''t you know how important the right medicine is?" I reprimanded her lightly.

    "Are you going back on your offer?" she hurried to ask. "Your cellphone we didn''t bring it. So, I found the medicine that would work for her. I will give her the right dose," she promised.

    I blinked and looked at Gene. She nodded slightly.

    "Okay. Leave the bottle at the center of the room. I''ll tell you what you need to do." She gingerly ced the bottle at the center of the circle and stepped back. "The first step is to ensure that none of the hostages die. If any of them are hurt, they can pin the me on you. You were the one who kidnapped them so the police will point their finger at you. Your father might go scot-free. Say that he wasn''t even at the scene."

    Her eyes burned. "He could do that?" she choked.

    "To save himself? Sure. He used you all his life. Why can''t he continue doing just that?" I smiled at her sadly. "Don''t let hime down. He''s still mad and if he hurts any of them, you''ll get into trouble. He''s used you enough. No more," I insisted.

    She shuddered and nodded.

    "You''ll be okay, right?" I asked sincerely. I needed her to be reserved for this n to work. I was treating her like another hostage because I could easily ce her in that victim mentality. She sumbed to me easily and I couldn''t help but smile as she left the room to bring us another round of food.

    This time, I tasted my te and Gene''s carefully before handing it to her.

    Gene ate. She breathed the food down.

    When the daughter was gone Gene whispered to me.

    "Why didn''t you let her give me the medicine?" she asked.

    "You need to take it tomorrow. Right now, we need to make sure there is no residual drug in your system. So eat properly and take care."

    The problem was how long could I keep this up? Sebastian how long will you take to find me?

 Chapter 177: Hope for Humanity

    Chapter 177: Hope for Humanity

    Throughout the next few hours, I couldn''t help but mull over the statistics in my head. Really, how many people get saved from their of a serial killer. If it was human trafficking, the odds were much worse, so I supposed I was in a better condition.

    The day passed slowly and dully. My whole body hurt by the time my mind was clear. The drugs had probably flushed out of my system, but my body burned. Even my ears felt like they were burning.

    Instead, I found Jade slumped in her seat. Her drugs had worked and she just slept, mildly twitching now and then but nothing apart from that.

    Benny, though, remained alert. Like the drugs had no effect. There were two possible reasons for this. Either he was never given a drug, or he was so used to taking drugs that whatever these people were administering didn''t have an effect on him.

    Both made sense, Benny would need to be high a lot of the time toe up with those convoluted maniptions that led people to murder indiscriminately.

    Drug use could also elerate intrusive thoughts and lead someone tomit crimes.

    However, the contrary could also be true. Despite telling them to drug his food, the female assant hadn''t done it because she was scared or felt connected to Benny in some way. Which one it was, I needed to find out.

    When the next meal came, I was sure it was night-time. I sighed as I tasted the food. It was okay.

    I had noticed that the amount of food given to each person was decreasing and this was probably one of thest meals before they needed to go out to get more food.

    From looking at the structure, it had to be somewhere industrial and far away from people. They would have to travel a long time to get groceries and other resources. They could use that time to wreak havoc.

    "Can you bring more food?" I asked calmly.

    The woman snapped towards me. "No," she grunted.

    Good, they didn''t have anything left. I knew for sure then.

    "We need to administer the insulin thirty minutes before Gene''s meal," I told her. "Which reminds me, what is your name? I never asked. It feels strange not having your name." My voice was kind and warm, never giving away why I needed that information.

    A name was distinct. That was what people identified with. Once you knew someone''s name, you had an unknown power over them that made them behave and not do anything bad to you. There were a lot of papers that one needed to read to grasp the concept. That was for another time, altogether.

    "Lucy," she said quietly.

    "Lucy Page?" I inquired softly. Her eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back.

    "H-how did you know that?" she whispered.

    My guess was correct. We had taken a list of suspects before and I was going to go through the top five to see if any of the surnames elicited a response. I just happened to get it right on the first try.

    I shrugged. If she wanted to think that I was a psychic or a mind reader, I would allow her to do it. "Gene hasn''t eaten anything yet. She should take the medicine now." I told her.

    Theck of emotion in my voice startled her. She nodded and brought the medicine over to Gene.

    "Do you have a syringe ready?" I questioned. She nodded. She produced the packed needle from her pocket and showed it to me. "Take it to Gene. Unlock her hand so that she can take the medicine herself," I told her calmly.

    Lucy took the packet over and the keys jingled in her pocket as she fished them out. Within a minute, Gene was free. She didn''t try to move, but her eye flitted to me in panic.

    She checked the packet and nodded. "It''s a sealed packet," she informed me.

    "Great. Take the required doze," I instructed her. "You can do it, right?" I whispered. Her eyes were red and she barely nodded. She took the medicine out and her hand hovered and shook.

    "I can''t do it!" she howled. "Evie, I can''t do it" she cried.

    I couldn''t do anything but sit there and let her cry. "It''s okay. You need to take it. You can do this," I assured her. I would have liked to believe that my voice was calming but Gene sobbed until Jade woke up.

    She looked around in confusion and her eyes settled on Gene. The drowsiness gave away to panic and she stared in horror at the little girl with the syringe in her hands, crying.

    "What are you doing to her?" Jade howled. "Get away!" she chanted and screamed.

    This was the first time I had seen a reaction from Jade that had to do with anything apart from protecting herself. I felt warmth seep into my bones.

    Indeed, it was these small things that made me believe that we humans were not evil or selfish in nature that we cared.

    "I can''t do it," Gene cried, her sobs turned to sniffles until she heaved without sound.

    "Gene listen to me" My voice was low. I felt eyes on me. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath," I instructed. Her eyes flitted to a close. I walked her through a calming exercise Dr. Knight had taught me during our sessions.

    She slumped in her seat, energy leaving her body, but when she opened her eyes, I could see vulnerability.

    "I can''t do it," she said finally. She was resolute. Therefore, I had no choice.

    "I''ll do it," Lucy volunteered immediately.

    "No!" I yelled. "You won''t," this time I was calmer. "I can do it. I was trained," I informed everyone.

    "I am not untying you," Lucy said immediately.

    "I am not going to run away. I know that Bernard is right outside and he has weapons. I know that you have a gun under your shirt, too. I don''t want to die, so I won''t make a run for it, understand?" I assured.

    I had gotten a clue when she knelt down and fidgeted at thest minute as she sat. The gun was tucked in her jeans, so she couldn''t fully sit down without difort.

    I had to make a change in ns.

    Lucy thought about it for a long time. She raised the hem of her shirt to reveal the gun. It was a model that was easy to buy and easy to handle, but deadly nheless. I stared as she took it out and pointed it right at my head as she inched closer.

    "I''ll unlock you. If you try to run, I''ll blow your head up!" she threatened.

    I nodded quickly, but a pang of fear traveled down my spine. It was okay. As long as I didn''t make a run for it, I would be fine. She unlocked my hands with one of hers while she pointed the gun at me with the other.

    I kept my eyes on her the whole time, never looking away. Once down, I inspected my swollen and surely infected wrists. I twisted my right wrist to make sure I had the flexibility and slowly but carefully walked over to Gene.

    "Hey, kid," I whispered. "It''s going to be fine." I patted her arm and she nodded. "Where did you take the shotst time?" I asked tentatively.

    "My leg," she replied with the quiver of her lips.

    I took the syringe tentatively from her hand. "Then I will administer it to your abdomen, okay?" I announced.

    "You can?" she asked in a low voice. I gripped her hand in assurance.

    To fill the silence and dissuade the nervous atmosphere, I narrated the procedure in detail, telling her exactly where, why, and how I was administering the shot.

    She groaned at the pain and squeezed her eyes shut to not show it.

    "All done," I announced. I turned to Lucy. "Give me the puncture-resistant container," I asked her casually. Lucy nodded, looking a little bewildered but produced a contained from the little bag she had kept in the room.

    The procedure was to break the needle from the syringe and then ce them separately in the container. So, after I opened the container, I broke the needle and made a show of putting it into the container. The needle was hidden between two of my fingers,pletely out of view. I knew for sure Lucy wouldn''t check for it.

    I handed it over to her and walked back to my seat to be locked up again. "See? I do as I promise," I told Lucy with a smile.

    She nodded numbly before shaking her head to get a better understanding. "Tell me something else. How can I" she asked. Her eyes sharpened as she looked at me critically.

    "Next, you have to empathize with the people in the room. Just like you brought Gene her medicine, you will need to make sure the others get the proper care. Kidnapping is one thing, but torture is a different charge with grave results." Her eyes widened and she nodded.

    "What what do you all need?" she asked. Everyone looked around at each other.

    "You need anti-inmmation medicine. We also need contraceptive pills," I told her quietly.

    Lucy stiffened but otherwise agreed.

    She left in a hurry and I found Jade staring at me. "Why are you helping me?" she whispered. "You shouldn''t help me"

    I frowned. "You need medical attention. I can''t give you everything, but right now, you need basic medical help. This will scar you for life, but I will make sure it isn''t worse."

    What else could I say? That I understood? I didn''t. How could I understand?

    She stared at me for a long time because her sobs filtered through the room. Apart from Benny and me who sat stoically, the two others grieved.

    They probably saw no escape. They probably didn''t think we could get out.

    Right then, I wasn''t sure I was fully confident either.

 Chapter 178: The Smile

    Chapter 178: The Smile

    The hours passed slowly. For the next meal, the food was lesser than expected, but the medicine Lucy brought was enough to help Jade out. It was still within the seventy-two-hour frame for her to take the medicine and I really hoped it worked.

    She had been strong for the longest time, but in the face of kindness from strangers, she broke down. She was sure it didn''t make a difference.

    She was resigned to the fact that they were not going to be saved.

    "Why do you think that?" I found myself asking in the middle of the night. I hade to sense the change in temperature in the room after the drugs wore off.

    "You are a cop, right? It''s been almost two days since you got kidnapped and they still can''t find us," she told me. She was not at fault for thinking this. When I was sixteen and didn''t know police procedure, I wondered how ipetent they were to not find me. And I thought they would never rescue me.

    But I knew who the perpetrators were, I knew the procedure, and I knew that there was more to the situation than meets the eye. I couldn''t me her for feeling hopeless.

    "I''m not a cop. I am an intern. But yes it will take time," I assured her. "Ask Benny. His dad has been a cop for years." I turned to Benny.

    He looked like a deer caught in the headlight. He finally nodded. "The cops will try to look at every other possible victim. If they have suspects, they will interview and if they have a particr name, they will hunt down all the properties and locations where we could have been kept." He nced at me. "Isn''t that right?"

    I nodded in acknowledgment. "The people on the case scientifically look at people and their behavior. They have worked in the industry for decades. They know what they are doing. The only reason we haven''t been rescued yet is that something is stopping them from finding the exact location."

    Jade looked confused. I looked at Gene''s sleeping face. After crying for a long time, she got tired and fell asleep. Which was good. She needed sleep to recuperate faster.

    "I don''t know what it means," Jade eximed.

    I hushed her. "No need to panic. They''ll have to kill me first if they want to harm any of you, understood?" I asked her.

    Her eyes widened with panic. "You said none of us would die!"

    I shook my head urgently. "None of you will die. As I said. If I don''t die, you won''t die either. But I am not omniscient." I gave her a sad smile.

    "Do you think you will die?" I pretended to think about it for a while.

    "I don''t think I will. I have a lot to go back to. I am not allowed to die." Sebastian''s face shed in my mind and I felt tears prickle my eyes.

    "Your family?" she asked tentatively.

    "I don''t have a family. My grandparents and parents were killed by a serial killer. My dad was the lead investigator, you see." Jade gulped, visibly shaken. "I was taken from my house and kept in captivity for seven months"

    "Serial killer? You said you encountered four that threatened you. Why?"

    "The two captors? They are serial killers. But they have let a lot of women go, as well, so you were kind of lucky." I stopped short. I didn''t know how toe back from that. "That''s not what I mean"

    She shook her head. "I understand. Better physically injured than killed."

    I sighed in relief. "Right. This way, at least you get the chance to get better." I forced a smile.

    "How did you survive?" she asked finally.

    I shrugged. "I was allowed to live because the serial killer''s partner had an invested interest in me. He wanted me alive because he had a sick and twisted fantasy of turning me into his aplice."

    I took note of Benny''s dispassionate expression.

    "What kind of psychopath does that? Watch someone get tortured because they want to be romantically involved with them? They need therapy."

    I threw my head back inughter. Benny gritted his teeth. "You''re right. Imagine not having the courage to show himself while I was hurting." I shook my head pretending to be offended.

    "But you found a nice man, didn''t you?" she asked.

    It was for her own hope, so I nodded. "A very nice man who stopped me from killing myself or someone else," I admitted.

    Jade blinked. "And he''s a good detective?"

    "Criminal psychologist," I corrected. "You''ve heard of the recent surge of cases, right? The Magician Killer, the Stone Man" I grinned. "He solved all of those. Even if it is a hard cold case, he finds the answers. He''s that kind of guy."

    Jade nodded but she was tearing up once again.

    "Once you get out, you''ll find someone too. If you want."

    The room fell into silence until the temperature in the room returned to normal. It was probably day and I waited for a long time before anyone came to check on us.

    When Lucy dide, she had nothing in her hands. No food. They were out of rations, that was for sure.

    She didn''t pretend to care about the others and walked right up to me. Suddenly I felt my hair being pulled painfully and I gritted my teeth.

    "You little bitch!" she screamed. "You''ve been lying all along, haven''t you?" she yelled.

    I heard the whimpers in the room. Even Benny pretended to be shocked by the turn of events.

    "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice no longer calm. It was a good thing I had be a good actor, but I had to say, the pain helped in giving a powerful speech.

    I wondered why I was so apathetic to this situation. It was unnatural to be this calm. Maybe it was the familiarity of being at the brink of death. I had almost forgotten it since I went to therapy. But this was a ce my body and mind had always known I would be back.

    Now, it was confirmed that I hadn''t been too wrong with my thoughts.

    "You you tricked me into doing what you wanted," she hissed. I felt her spit on my face, but I was unmoving.

    "Doing what I want? What did you do?" I asked my eyes searching for any sign of weakness and doubt in her eyes.

    "You made me buy medicines to buy time, didn''t you?" she sobbed. Her hands untangled from my hair, leaving behind a dull ache. I bit my lip as she lowered her hand to grip my swollen wrists.

    "If you didn''t give Gene the insulin, she would die. Do you want murder and torture charges?" I asked. "I didn''t lie to you. Not a word," I told her firmly.

    Her grip on my wrist wavered.

    "The medicine for Jade was so that she didn''t die from infections and wounds you and your father inflicted. It would be sexual assault and kidnapping not manughter. Think about it. Haven''t I helped you all along?" I begged her to understand.

    "The drugs?" she whined.

    "Same reason. You''ve never had four captives, have you? It has always been one person. When there are so many people, there is more noise more conspicuous activity." I blinked. "Why? Did Bernard say that you were duped? Is he not angry anymore? Or was it him?"

    My look must have been piercing.

    "Him?" Lucy whispered. "We did dose off during the night I was wondering why no one came in when morning arrived. This was why You got talked to and manipted."

    I snickered.

    "Do you want to call your dad and ask him what deal he made?" I pressed. "I''m sure it''s going to be something magnificent that makes him have less punishment. He''ll tell the prosecutor that he only assaulted those women but you you knew everything and to cover for your father, killed all those women on his behalf. He had no knowledge of it."

    Once I nted the seed of doubt in her head, the picture she thought of was vivid. "Thest time your benefactor personally came to meet me, he let someone else take all the me. He made sure each and every person who had ever seen him was killed off. Just to save himself," I announced.

    The air in the room froze. "If you really want to get a lesser sentence, you would have listened to me and thought for yourself. But you fell for his trap. He''s going to kill you, you know?"

    I nced towards Benny surreptitiously. He saw me looking.

    And then I saw it spread across his lips. The smile.

    I remembered what Carol had said. He smiled politely and warmly, but his eyes his eyes were dead.

    I saw what she meant. I saw it clearly.

 Chapter 179: Three Bullets

    Chapter 179: Three Bullets

    "I I don''t want to die," Lucy said softly. Neither do the two girls in the room, I wanted to tell her. But this was not the time.

    "But you will die. He knows you are of no use to him if you can''t get me to do something bad," I informed her. "But you will get sentenced to life or get capital punishment if the other option happens."

    She choked.

    "Do you really want to y in this game of his? The answer is simple." The words were enticing. And I could see it infect her mind.

    "How?" she asked. "Do you want me to tip the police about the location and leave discreetly?" she asked.

    I didn''t trust her to do anything of the sort. We would be dead before the police could reach. At least Jade and Gene would be dead along with Bernard, who was still outside, probably with his shotgun cocked and ready to threaten and kill.

    I shook my head. "You think they will sit around and let you tip the police? They know you are on our side now. There is no way you can get out of this building."

    She looked scared. Scared for her life. She knew her father enough to guess what would happen to her. It wouldn''t be a slow death, she would be brutalized and then killed heinously so that not even a trace of her was left.

    "Even if you do go out or call the police, they might note. His father is the Director-General." I saw her whimper as she slumped over me. Her grip had ckened, leaving only the stinging pain.

    I felt the sensations acutely, and they seemed to spur me on. I grew angrier. The silent seething propelled me to think of various ways to get out unscathed. To get these two females out without a scratch on them.

    They were my responsibility, and I knew damn well they didn''t deserve to be tortured because I existed.

    "What should I do?" she whispered.

    I turned my hand and tapped on the underside of the wrist, a motion of reassurance.

    "Why don''t you unlock my hands first? You have a well-trained ally on your side. I can help you keep them off. I can ensure you go out and still have all of us protected." My voice was level.

    Lucy looked shocked at my proposal.

    "I can''t do that," she responded immediately.

    "Why? I don''t have a weapon. I can''t hurt anyone or I will get jail time. What are you scared of?" I asked casually like I wasn''t nning something devious to throw her off.

    "If you listen to her," Benny began all of a sudden. He had heard the conversation long enough. "She will kill you." The statement was bold.

    I sighed. "If I killed her, I would fall right into your hands, won''t I? You would hold that over me for the rest of my life and use it to keep me at your side, doing as you bid. You know it would make me feel guilty" I countered him.

    This was the first time I spoke to him after acknowledging who he was.

    "When did you find out it was me?" he asked with a smirk on his face.

    I rolled my eyes.

    "The moment I saw you," I snorted. I could feel the lock being worked on and with Lucy''s body covering the view from others, there was no way they would know. "The white shirt, the calm way you looked at everyone. I remembered your face, too." I chuckled without humor. "It didn''t help that you only had a busted lip and no other injuries in sight even though you struggled against them."

    "Your intuition is strong!" heplimented. "But you are too evil to be on the right side of thew, aren''t you? Look at you manipting this woman into doing what you want."

    I rolled my eyes. "There is a fine line between good and evil. The line being the perspective of a human. You think you aren''t doing anything bad. I think you need to be chopped up in pieces."

    I heard the click of the lock and pulled my hand free. I watched as she worked on the other hand.

    She didn''t seem to be bothered by the conversation, probably convinced by my logic. When the other hand was done, I rotated my wrist and went for Lucy''s hand.

    The needle I had hidden between my fingers worked as a weapon. I stabbed her at the wrist, the needle going through her hand considerably before I pulled it back.

    The stack of keys in her hand fell to the ground with a thug and I reached down to grab them.

    I kept my eyes on Lucy as she howled in pain. She clutched at her wrist and writhed on the floor. I had almost no time. I unlocked my legs and slowly stood up.

    The gun.

    The gun was what I aimed for.

    I leaned down beside Lucy gingerly and yanked the hem of her shirt to see the gun. I took it into my hand and leaped up. The next person I unlocked was Gene.

    "Hide right beside the door, understood?" I prompted. She nodded in panic and bolted to the edge of the door, locking herself at the corner, not doing a thing.

    "You''re going to pretend you are cuffed?" I asked Benny without looking at him. I heard the thudding of footstepsing from outside and knew that Bernard had heard the screams.

    I had known this would happen. I wasn''t going to wait around for him to enter with a gun.

    "You knew?" He asked, amazed. "I work with cuffs all the time. I am thankful to you for ying along. You like to watch a show, don''t you?" I went to work on Jade''s hand.

    She looked at me like a demon as I pressed the needle surreptitiously into her hand. I gave her an intent look.

    I hoped she understood.

    Benny stood up from the chair, shedding the cuffs and stretching his body. "Why didn''t you say so earlier? We could have begun the game."

    The door burst open but didn''t crash against the wall. I turned around slowly and saw Bernard, the dpidated old man with his gun pointed right at my head.

    "You don''t want to do that," I told him, waving the gun at him. "I know it''s loaded and I am a better shot than you, I can tell you that," I told him loudly.

    I was trapped on two sides. The door was upied by the father while Benny stood at the center of the room. Jade was panicking as she pleaded with her eyes not to leave her.

    I almost wanted to apologize to her for the pain I would cause her. I had to keep the door unupied and Gene protected. She was a child, one that had years to look forward to.

    She had potential. She shouldn''t die.

    I stepped aside, positioning myself equally distant from both assants. I didn''t know if Benny had a weapon, but I wouldn''t put it past him to use Bernard like a weapon. Or a shield.

    Lucy was still on the floor, but her pain was going to ebb away. Her anger would pick her up off the floor.

    Three against one wasn''t a scenario I didn''t want to be in.

    I felt tears prickling in my eyes as I inspected the bullets in the gun. I cocked it.

    I had six shots. That is all this revolver allowed me. Three targets. And I couldn''t shoot to kill.

    With the safety undone, Bernard shook. I pointed the gun at Lucy. "Come on. That''s your precious daughter. The ve you like best," I hinted at him.

    "You think I care?" he howled.

    "Don''t shoot," Benny warned. "I won''t save you," he said.

    Bernard''s eye shed in his direction and he nodded. He stood like a wall at the end, the gun just pointed at me.

    I tested my thoughts. If I shot Benny, all bets were off. We were all dead. Bernard wouldn''t have someone to look up to. He wouldn''t need to listen to Benny''s orders and he would kill us all.

    If I shot Lucy to incapacitate her, it would enrage Bernard intoing closer to make sure he shot me well. He would shoot to kill, though, just to maim.

    I could live with that.

    "Do not move from the door," Benny gritted through his teeth when he understood what I was nning on doing.

    I looked him in the eye as I shot at Lucy. She jerked and howled. I''d aimed for the kneecap so that she wouldn''t get up. Everything was clinical at that point.

    I was back to statistics and probability. What were my chances? What were their chances?

    "Don''te here!" he shouted. "There is someone" Benny couldn''t finish.

    Bernard trudged forward aiming for me.

    "Run!" I screamed. The door burst forward and Gene sprinted out without a look back.

    Good for her.

    I heaved as the back of the gun made contact with my head. He chanted slurs as he pummelled my shoulder and back. In a moment of strength, I threw him off and shot him twice.

    My shoulders ached at the recoil and I felt a tear spill as Bernard clutched his shoulder. Blood pooled at his stomach, soaking through his shirt.

    3 bullets left. 3 assants alive.

    "Give it to me," Benny hissed. He took the gun out of Bernard''s arms as he grew limp. He even administered thest kick before pointing the gun at Jade.

    "You have two choices," he yelled at me as he pressed the gun to Jade''s head. Tears rolled down her dirty cheeks as she looked at me helplessly. "Either you shoot to kill me or she dies."

    He knew none of those options were possible for me.

    This was shooting a criminal, right? This was justified, right? It wouldn''t make me a monster.

    I could kill him and save everyone. I could kill him and save myself.

    But the nagging feeling that just killing him wouldn''t satisfy me. I looked at Jade.

    Do something, I wanted to tell her. But what was she to do?

    I raised my gun. "Let us leave," was all I could say. "You won''t kill me. And you know I won''t let her die. We are at an impasse. Just let us go." I pleaded.

    The years of knowledge, all down the drain because I refused to pull the trigger. I would have to kill him or there was no leaving.

    The shot rang louder than I anticipated. My knee buckled as I bit my tongue. The gun smoked and it pointed at me. I didn''t have to look down to know that my thigh had been shot.

    I sank to the floor.

    I heard the ungodly female screamede from beside him. I didn''tprehend it. My mind went nk as I clutched the gun.

    Bang.

    Bang.

    Bang.

 Chapter 180: A Silent Death

    Chapter 180: A Silent Death

    Sebastian POV:

    Three kidnapped victims. Three assants. Two of them were proved serial killers while the third was ying with thew and helping killers get away with their crimes.

    I was up against the worst of the worst and that was saying something with all the cases I had seen.

    As I sat in the front passenger seat, I looked at the scenery outside. It blurred and morphed as the journey continued.

    "Have emergency services been called, yet? We will need ambnces at the scene. At least one of the three kidnapped have undergone severe physical trauma."

    Knowing Evie, she would fight her hardest to make sure none of the other two victims were harmed. I prided her for her presence of mind, but I didn''t know how she would react. A part of me was sure she was going to use herself as a shield to protect the others.

    She would probably not think of saving herself and throw her body in front of a bullet to protect another person. She wouldn''t be able to stand seeing a victim hurt after what she thought of herself all this time.

    Would she remember my face before she did it? Would I be important enough for her not to give in to her need to protect others?

    I doubted it.

    A better man would say that he would be proud his fianc helped others survive. But I was a selfish man. I didn''t care for those others. I just wanted Evie alive and unscathed. I wanted her unharmed. If I could but erase the memory of the torture she had seen the others go through, I would hope and pray that she survived in ce of others.

    I dared not tell anyone this. Not because they would think poorly of me, but that Evie would find out. I wouldn''t pretend or lie to her. I didn''t care about those others. Only her.

    I was only concerned about those primarily important to me: my family and friends. Among them, Evie ranked first.

    "Yes, Dr. Butler. We have four ambnces following us," the officer sitting behind me answered. I turned over my shoulder to see his expression and found him staring at me with mild horror. I anticipated that my quiet calction scared him. I was calm in most things, but now, I was fuming. I was plotting. For people who didn''t think like me, it was unfathomable and monstrous, and I understood that.

    "That''s good," I whispered before looking away. "Keep them on standby. At least one of them has resuscitation technology, right?" I added suddenly, the thoughting to me like a stab in the chest.

    "Yes, Dr. Butler. For such a big and sensitive operation, we have the high technology medical ambncese out. You don''t need to worry about that. The SWAT team is on standby as well. If the architecture of the building is hard to prate or dangerous for us, we will have the SWAT team send in their robot investigators inside for a better look," he informed.

    Ah, yes. The robots that could go into houses. Fascinating things. But I feared I couldn''t wait out for another team toe out while Evie was probably dying inside.

    I didn''t trust myself not to burst in.

    But I wasn''t going to let anyone know that. I would have to throw them off me.

    The buzz of civilization slowly died down with the tall buildings giving away to smaller houses and then fields. I could see the industrial area in the distance and braced herself.

    "What is the estimated time of arrival?" I barked, slowly growing impatient.

    "Around seven minutes, Dr. Butler," the driver spoke. I rested my head on the seat and looked down. In the distance, I could see a small object nearing. The figure shimmered but seemed to be moving in our direction.

    I squinted at it until I was sure it was human. The area was deserted, not even cars came here. What was this human

    My heart thudded in my chest. The image of Evie stumbling into the police station with her gashes and bloody clothes, asking everyone to help her came to his mind. He shuddered.

    It was a girl.

    "Someone is running in this direction," I whispered.

    "I see them too," the others cried.

    The car stopped a distance away from the girl. The poor little thing stiffened and stopped running, looking hesitantly at me as I wrenched the door open and made my way out.

    She cried out as I neared but I didn''t have half a mind to tell her who I was. "Are you Gene? Gene Winter?" I yelled as I closed the distance between us.

    She quaked and took an involuntary step back. Only then did I regain some semnce of consciousness.

    "I am Sebastian Butler. I am I am here to get you." Should I Have said Evie''s name? I was almost scared to know how this girl had escaped and the others hadn''t. Thest time this happened, everyone else was either killed or close to it.

    "Are you the police?" the little girl called hysterically.

    "Yes! I am with them. Do you know Evie?" I was desperate for an answer.

    Her body jolted and she nodded. "Yes!" she chanted. "Save Evie!" she yelled.

    I sucked in a breath as I kneeled down in front of her. "You came from the building, right? Can you take us there? Do you remember?" I asked. My eyes must have looked wild with worry because the little girl threw herself at me.

    She cried. I grew limp as I let her hold me. I didn''t have time to waste.

    No time to waste. "Please can you lead us there?" I whispered. "You don''t need to go inside. You can tell us what happened. We''ll save them all, okay?" I promised. But I didn''t know if I could make it happen.

    She sniffled and nodded.

    My body moved on its own ord. I picked the girl up and ran back to the car. I ced her inside and slid into the front seat.

    "Go go go!" I yelled.

    The girl was a blubbering mess, but I could piece together a story. I clenched my wrists together as I heard the girl speak.

    Stupid Evie.

    Brave, beautiful, loyal Evie.

    What was I going to do with her?

    Throwing herself into the fire. Eating extra drugged food to save others. Did she not fear that she would overdose? Or had I misunderstood? Was she still looking forward to a silent death?

    I shook at the thought. I wouldn''t allow it.

    "Was she okay thest time you saw her?" I choked out.

    The girl sniffled but nodded.

    "She asked me to hide behind the metal door and stood in front of me so that even if I was exposed, I wouldn''t be hurt."

    I squeezed my eyes shut. "They they had guns. All of them. Evie took a gun from the woman, but she she is probably going to get up."

    The memories must have hurt because she cried louder.

    I saw the ambnces catch up with us.

    "There are injured people. With bullet wounds," I squeezed out. I didn''t have a gun. And I doubted these policemen would go in when they knew people inside had guns.

    They wouldn''t die to save others.

    "Is the SWAT teaming? They have guns." A lot of guns.

    "Yes. They will be here ten minutes after we arrive," the driver announced. "I just received a message from the station," he added.

    We arrived, but there was no way I could go in.

    "There are floors. We were down below ground in a room. A short staircase leads down into it," Gene said when questioned.

    "Dr. Butler, we have to wait until the SWAT team arrives. There is no way we can go in without the robot," the older office announced.

    "We can start with asking them toe out, right? Proper procedure?" I eximed.

    The officer nodded.

    The microphones were brought out and the warnings made. There was no answer. These buildings didn''t have a view inside, and I could only see the gaping front door. The limited view inside told me that there was nobody on that floor. But they could be hiding and out of sight.

    Every second felt like a lifetime, but the ambnce was on standby and the SWAT team arrived faster than expected.

    "We broke a lot ofws to get here!" the captain yelled. The robot was sent inside and with the help of Gene, it made down the stair. I didn''t need it to go all the way down there to see the blood and the bodies.

    I cried out, my body out of control. I think I heard people calling me, but I was sprinting into the building. I had seen Evie lying there. She seemed to be writhing in pain, but I hadn''t heard a sound from her. The other man who looked to be moving was slowly starting to stir.

    I heard footsteps behind me, and I jumped stairs until I reached the end.

    The bleary-eyed man in white looked at him, his eyes unfocused with pain. I sprinted to him, my sole purpose was to kick the gun as far away as possible.

    But it didn''t end there.

    With the gun sliding away, I found myself consumed with rage. I said words I didn''t remember. I kicked him in the stomach where blood pooled in his shirt.

    "Dr. Butler!" someone screamed. I heard the sole unscathed figure in the room cry in fear, but I paid them no mind.

    This was the end. There was no escaping. There was no way he would get away with just a bullet wound. I wouldn''t allow that.

 Chapter 181: The Bitter Pill

    Chapter 181: The Bitter Pill

    I could feel someone pull me off the sick bastard.

    "Dr. Butler, Miss Lewis is asking for you!" someone screamed. Reason slowly seeped into my mind and I turned slowly towards the source of the voice.

    I stiffly turned towards Evie and found her being attended to by two paramedics. I had to p myself to control my thoughts as I kneeled beside her.

    "How is she looking?" I asked, my voice shaking. The paramedic, who was busy wrapping a tourniquet around my injured thigh.

    "She is losing blood because of the drugs in her system. It has reduced clotting of blood cells and therefore she is at higher risk at the moment," he said without looking at me.

    "She is going to be okay, right?" I gulped.

    "Yes. Once we have her in the hospital and ween her off the drugs, we will have stabilized her. I will need you to apany me," he said quietly.

    I blinked but nodded. I looked around the room and saw the people lying on the floor. "What about them?" I asked finally.

    The paramedic looked around. "They were shot strategically it looks. They should be fine when we get the bullets out," he assured. He patted me on the shoulder and called the other man to transfer Evie onto a bed.

    "I''ll help!" I volunteered immediately. My vision blurred as moisture poured out of me. There was relief, but also fear that this was not the end.

    I looked at Evie''s ssy eyes and felt a sob rip through my throat. "Evie, can you hear me?" I asked once we had transferred her onto the bed. I cradled her face. I knew she was barely conscious of the pain, but the paramedic had asked me to check on her once in a while. It was better if we transported her to the hospital while she was awake.

    She squeaked, the sound making my heart ache. She was in visible pain but they couldn''t medicate her or alleviate it because they didn''t know what drugs they had pumped in her or how long she hadn''t consumed any drug.

    Without the full knowledge, any medication they gave could push her to death.

    "I''m right here. I found you, see?" I told her. There was no smugness in my voice or victory. I wanted to inflict the same wound on me as punishment.

    How I had boasted of being a genius. Of solving every case. But I couldn''t solve something so simple.

    "I shot," she said, her voice low and wavering.

    "I know. You did so well. This was your first time shooting at a person, right?" I asked. I patted her shoulder, trying to keep her awake. "You could have died but you only incapacitated them."

    "Mm. I''m free," she said. A small, pained smile overcame her lips.

    "Yes. We got him. We got them all. Once you feel better, I will tell you everything, okay?" I assured her.

    "Director-General," she mumbled.

    "Yes. It was his son," I answered. So intelligent. "Don''t worry. We trapped him. They won''t get away with any of those crimes," I told her.

    Evie was already unconscious when we reached the hospital. The beds were wheeled in, all emergency cases. Gene received a full body check-up and her parents filed into the hospital room to make sure where she was. They nced at me standing outside Evie''s room and came over to thank me.

    "I heard your fianc saved my daughter," the mother sobbed as she cradled my hand. I nodded stiffly but didn''t respond. A meanment was lurking at the tip of my tongue. I was not proud of it.

    I heard the buzz of people inside Evie''s room, the panic in the doctors and I couldn''t think of a single reason why I should speak nicely to them.

    "Thank you so much!" she cried. The father seemed to have sensed my difort and pulled the mother away.

    I looked towards the room Jade had been taken in. It was a more serene picture in there. The doctors asked her questions and performed the sexual assault tests. She looked defeated but there was still a spark of life in her.

    Right down the hall, Bernard Page and Lucy Page were kept in one room, handcuffed to the bed after emergency surgery to take out the bullets had been performed. Guards waited outside, prim and proper, looking around for possible threats.

    At the very end of the hall, in a VIP room was Benny Phillips. He was still the Director General''s son and so far, the police officers hadn''t questioned anyone and found him guilty of being one of the assants.

    I sank to the floor and waited patiently for them to tell me she was fully conscious. I wasn''t allowed inside. Who knows what they were doing to her in there?

    It felt like an eternity before I felt a pat on my shoulder. I looked up to find Nash.

    "Are you doing okay?" he asked calmly. His eyes held pity.

    I shook my head in response. "I can''t possibly be okay. She is still sleeping," I told him. "She should have been awake already, but she keeps sleeping."

    Nash sighed. "Sebastian, you know that the body is not the only thing that controls us. She needs to sleep. She needs to process what happened," Nash soothed.

    "She shot all of them," I told him. "She didn''t shoot to kill them even though they had guns." I hung my head in defeat.

    "She didn''t want to die, Sebastian!" he told me. He was shaking my shoulder, trying to make me listen.

    "How do you know that?" I asked defiantly.

    "I sat in on Jade Walsh and Gene Winters'' interviews. They painted a very vivid picture of what happened," he told me in the lowest voice. "Evie had only one aim: get all of them out of there alive. She assured Gene and Jade everything would be okay and she knew they wouldn''t kill her. That''s why" he trailed off.

    "Her reckless streak. It scares me. I thought it was getting better after her sessions but how did her instincts not make her think of herself first?" I questioned. "She she is so preupied with not bing a monster that she didn''t kill them. It was self-defense, she knows that but she still didn''t."

    Nash sighed. "She would never be able to forgive herself. Even if they are evil incarnate, she couldn''t kill them. It would destroy her."

    Stupid Evie.

    "She watched so many people die she doesn''t look at death the same way as others do. If you give her a dilemma, she tries to debunk it and save everyone. That is how Evie is. She mourns everyone."

    I shook my head. "Why can''t she be selfish? Others who undergo a trauma or go to the brink of death be selfish they are violent. But not her. She''s always so scared she will hurt someone"

    I don''t know how long I cried, but Nash apanied me throughout.

    It was the middle of the night when Nash brought in packets of food. "I asked someone from the station to send over the food I bought," he said with a smile. "See? We can eat it with her in front of us."

    He ced the boxes in front of me. "She can''t eat because she is on intravenous medicines and saline, but we need to eat, right?" he joked.

    I sniffed as I nodded. "What happened to Billy Phillips?" I had forgotten all about it.

    "You have another solved cold case under your belt. I spoke to thewyers. They are ready to waive trials and admit all counts of murder. I dangled the carrot in front of him: if he tells me everything about Benny''s movements and the things he has cleaned up, I would plead with the prosecutors and judges to forego the death penalty."

    "And he said everything?" I asked. "I thought he was an affectionate father." I scoffed. "He saw his son as a location to show off his power. When said son went out of control, he must have felt a mixture of pride and fear that he would be found out. He didn''t want to die, so he chose to rat out his son. That is good for us," I analyzed.

    "And it''s all because of your brain. I don''t know how you make connections like this, but you did so well. If you keep this up, they are going to transfer you to the capital to work for the central investigation bureau," he frowned. "What will I do then?" he asked.

    "You could juste along," I shrugged. I looked over at Evie. "She will need time off. A lot of time off. I don''t even know if she will ever be able to work in the field again."

    I shook my head at the thought.

    "I highly doubt that would happen. The research assistant position at the central research institute I wrote her a rmendation letter for it. Dr. Singh did the same. If she gets through she can get away from direct cases and focus on getting her Ph.D. What do you think?"

    I didn''t have an opinion on that. "It''s her decision to make," I told him softly. "If she doesn''t want to work anymore I''ll go along with her. I don''t care as long as she is healthy."

    As long as she is alive and well, I didn''t care for anything else. I had just learned what those books glorified. It was a hard pill to swallow.

 Chapter 182: The End of Terror

    Chapter 182: The End of Terror

    Evie woke up a dayter. Her eyes roved around the room, searchingzily but frantically. Hooked up to so many channels, she looked fragile. The woman who ran a few miles in the morning and ate healthier than most people on the wasying on the bed, hooked up to machines because someone had hurt her and drugged her.

    For a body that was unused to impurities, it was like a fast-acting poison. She had ground her teeth so much that her jaws had been affected, as were her teeth. Her wrists were so infected that they considered surgery to check if everything was alright. The bullet had been taken out, but she needed months and months of therapy to walk properly and even more time to run.

    Would she be able to run on the streets as fast as the wind? She said it gave her a sense of freedom. How much would this affect her in the long run?

    "Evie?" I whispered, taking her hand in mine. She groaned as her head turned to me the slightest. "I''m right here," I assured her.

    Her eyes were zed as she looked in my direction, but I was sure she couldn''t see me properly in her state.

    "S" she couldn''t say anymore. Her voice was lower and gruffer, the usual sweetness gone from it.

    "How do you feel?" I asked. I wanted to hit myself for being so stupid. She gave me a lopsided smile.

    "''kay," she said generously. I squeezed her hand gently, trying not to hurt her already tormented wrists.

    "You don''t have to lie," I told her softly. "It only makes it worse." I gulped. "Can you quantify it? On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?" I asked. I wasn''t sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

    "Six?" her voice was questioning.

    If Evie thought it was a six, it would have been excruciating for others. Her pain threshold was a thousand times higher than others.

    I jolted. "The pain medicine isn''t working" I panicked. I was about to push the button to call the doctor in, but she groaned.

    "No. I" she stopped, wetting her throat. "Silence," she said finally.

    I nodded vigorously. "I''ll call the doctor. They will check you over and then you can have all the peace you want, okay?" I mustered up the courage to say. My instincts were to listen to her unconditionally. But for her, I would have to call the doctor and let them evaluate her.

    I pressed the call button and waited for a minute before the nurses arrived. We were first priority at this moment. People filed in and soon, there were nurses, doctors, and interns flitted around the room, looking at the heart monitor, the oxygen level. They were insistently asking questions.

    Evie silently nodded to each or shook her head. Never really speaking. "Do you want to answer them alone?" the doctor asked finally.

    I slumped on the sofa. They couldn''t see me but I knew Evie was protecting me from how she felt. She couldn''t express herself in front of me and it hurt.

    Her eyes flitted to me and she watched me for a solid moment before shaking her head. "No. Ask," was what she said.

    I almost started to cry. This woman she was on the brink of death, but she was still thinking about my feelings.

    "Does it hurt anywhere?" the doctor asked.

    She nodded. When asked where she became quiet for a second before answering. "There is a piercing pain in my ankle and wrists from the cuffs. My stomach it has cramps. My thigh is burning. And my head it hurts."

    I winced.

    One side of Evie''s face was ck and blue. She probably didn''t feel it as acutely as she should have because of the drugs, but as they wore out, she felt them acutely.

    I had heard Jade and Gene''s recollection of what happened. Evie had been hit multiple times over the head and face. She didn''t seem to remember or realize the intensity of those hits.

    "Yes, your skull has a hairline fracture. We are monitoring it, but it should be fine. The swelling in your ankles and wrists is slowly going down so the medicine is working. As for the bullet wound in your thigh. It''s going to hurt for a while. We can''t medicate you too heavily because of the substances used. You had a mixture of muscle rxants and hallucinogens given to you, so your heart is working slower than the normal person. We can''t use painkillers most of the time." The doctor sounded mncholic. "I am sorry for the pain you are going through," he told her.

    She gave him a small smile. "How long will it take for me to fully recover?" she asked. "I have a physically intense job." Her voice was calm.

    "To be able to run like a normal person, it should take about six months of physical therapy. But you will also need to be under medication a lot of the time. You should take a leave from physical work and focus on desk work," the doctor told her.

    She frowned. "Did I have any pneumonia-rted issues?"

    The doctor nodded. "We have it under control, actually. That is the least of your problems. You ran a fever several times, but it didn''t fry your organs. But I had to admit, your voice the tearing of your vocal cords can''t be repaired."

    Evie nodded. "I knew that," she told them. "I''ve felt it before."

    I felt my body give away. I had never really known her true voice. From when I knew her, her voice had been demanding and rough. When she called people, they sometimes thought she was a young boy. Now, it was lower. Maybe with time, the roughness wouldn''t sound so devastating to me, but the pain how long would itst?

    There were several other medical questions that revealed that Evie didn''t quite remember everything that happened. It was okay. The doctor said that she would slowly regain those memories. Either way, it was fine.

    Actually, after the doctors left, the police officers and prosecutors came. They questioned her about everything she remembered and knew.

    I followed them out of the room to see them off.

    "Dr. Butler," the prosecutor turned to me. "I must thank you on behalf of the prosecutor''s office and the police force. Through the joint investigations of Detective Nash, Miss Lewis, and you, we uncovered so many serious criminals within the span of a few days." He bowed deeply.

    I nodded. "I had selfish reasons for it. Has the police department announced that all these people have been caught?" I asked gingerly.

    He shook his head. "With the Director General being one of the killers, we haven''t made the announcement yet. The Assistant Director General will be taking up duties from today. They are preparing for a collective press conference right now." He gave me a lukewarm smile.

    "And Benny Phillips. Has he confessed?" I asked. I couldn''t go in any longer. I had been thrown out of the investigations. This was personal business now.

    "Yes. He didn''t see a point in denying it. We can''t prove anything apart from aiding and abetting crimes as of now," he shrugged.

    "No, with Miss Lewis and the two other victims testifying, the charges will be worse. We''ve already made Billy Phillips speak. The only person left is Alicia Williams. Before the trial, just let Evie and I talk to her. We''ll make her testify," I swore.

    He looked at me curiously. "Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked. Then he nced towards Evie''s room. "I can''t imagine what it is like to go through that ordeal once, let alone twice. She''s a hero. I hope she knows that."

    I hung my head. "Don''t ever say it to her face. She might throw a tantrum." I tried to give him a smile. "Will the names of the victims be given?" I asked.

    "Yes. It is a detailed conference. We aren''t going to hold back on any answers."

    I sighed in relief.

    I walked him out and let myself in the room.

    Evie was sleeping once again. I didn''t disturb her. When the time for the press-conference came, I shook her lightly to wake her up. She groggily looked up at me with confusion.

    "They''re announcing it," I said quietly. Her eyes had a spark of interest and she nodded. The television in the room was switched on and the logo of the city police was shown. The news channel contemted what it was about until finally, the Assistant Director General came into the picture.

    Questions were thrown at him, but he dodged them. Finally, he began to speak.

    "Thank you foring on such short notice. We have a series of announcements to make, some happy and some sad. Please bear with us." He sucked in a deep breath.

    "The officers and consultants from the City Police headquarters have been working tirelessly for thest few months to solve various unsolved cases. In the end, we can reveal the results it has brought us."

    Silence.

    "At the end of thirty years of terror, we can finally announce that the BTS Killer has been caught. We are deeply saddened to announce that the serial killer that tormented our city and the country for decades had been someone from our own agency. The previous Director General, Billy Phillips was proved without reasonable doubt as the BTS Killer. We have already gotten his confession."

    An uproar took over.

    "In addition to his confession, we were able to confirm several other serial killings and crimes in the same time frame. The mysterious disappearance of women on highways which was attributed to a serial rapist has finally been solved. The father and daughter pair, Lucy Page and Bernard Page acted together to abduct, torture, and kill women. From their testimonies, we can estimate over a hundred women being a victim of their crimes."

    Not one reporter in the room could stop throwing questions.

    "And finally, an aplice to several serial killer cases has been revealed."

    They gave his name and his connections as well. Evie''s name was mentioned, as was Detective Nash and mine. It was an uproar. Questions were asked and they were all truthfully answered. Transparency was the key to it all.

    "They''ll give out all the interviews and tapes, won''t they?" Evie asked me softly.

    "Yes," I said with finality. "Evie you are finally free."

    "Yes Yes, I am." And she cried.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!