Hearing about the pictures his wife sent, Sean held his hand just slightly above the door handle and turned around, “She sent you pictures?”
Mark looked perplexed but managed to nod his head. “Yes she did… the bunch of images just came through by mail one day and that was it”.
Sean felt his interest piqued and he soon walked back into the room with a frown.
“She even tagged it saying I should guard them with my life, which I felt was hilarious considering they were just pictures”, Mark continued before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out his cellphone.
Sean watched on; wondering if it was exactly what he thought was going on.
“How many pictures did she send?” he asked.
Mark shrugged and toggled through his phone before coming across the folder in his mail. He clicked open the folder and scrolled downwards to get the count before looking up to Sean.
“A thousand and fifty-one”, he replied, seemingly baffled as to why there were so many pictures.
Sean snatched the phone from him immediately while Mark motioned to complain but held his words.
‘You could have simply asked for it though and I would have handed it over… “, he halted upon seeing Sean hold up his hand and asking him to stop talking in the process.
Sean returned to the chair he once occupied, eyes glued to the phone screen and his finger toggling through the pictures as he zoomed in and out to get a perfect and overall frame of the pictures as a whole.
“I’ll be damned”, Sean bellowed.
Mark approached him, leering his gaze closer to the cellphone but unable to see anything of context. “What is it?”
“She used it! She used it after all these years”, Sean smiled and mumbled in pride as he held the phone tightly in his hand.
Getting back up and heading for the door immediately, he paused to look back at Mark but said nothing before turning around again and heading out.
Mark raced after him and yelled, “That’s my phone… Can you please hand it back!?”
Replying over his shoulder, Sean spoke, “Deal with it and get another one!”
Sean stepped into the elevator thinking of just how much help he would need. He wouldn’t risk using any of his contacts in the CIA for personal reason, which left him with no choice but to ask one person and one alone.
“I fucking hate this!” he muttered just as the elevator door shut close immediately.
Chapter Ten
F
or the umpteenth time, Jake looked behind, trying to see if his cab was being tailed.
With a sigh on relief, he stepped out as the cab pulled into his drive way and paid the cabbie, “Keep the change”.
The thankful man bowed and waved his hand before speeding away. Jake turned back around and stared at his watch. It was almost nine already and he was meant to meet with the head of the forensic team for results as regards the lipstick he had given them to help him analyze. Unsure as to why he felt uneasy, his heart drummed hard and loud as he motioned towards his front door.
Fondling his pocket for his keys and finding it, Jake slipped the right cut into the keyhole and felt it stiffen without turning as intended to have the lock unlocked. Stiffened in nerves and bracing himself for whatever madness had occurred in his house this time around, before gently pushing the door open and making his way in quietly.
Absent anyone in sight, he could very well tell someone had been in his house; from the drapes parted open and his things arranged back into place just as they ought to be and not in the manner he had scattered them earlier, Jake couldn’t understand why the intruder was doing so much to mess with him. Still careful and vigilant of anyone possibly lurking around in his house, he approached the center table where a note lay.
Picking it up and reading the words scribbled in pen with bewildered gaze, Jake heard himself read aloud;
“I see you… I know every move you’d make before even making it… this isn’t payback but strictly business”.
The words were clear as day and the writer definitely had some nous, seeing he or she had signed it with the familiar “smiley” face just at the lower end corner of the page. Jake held the thick paper in his hand and began to squeeze it gently until he could feel every inch of it collapse underneath his fist. His rage seemed inconsolable and his eyes watered with redness as he looked around for any more insensitive messages.
“What games are you trying to play with me?” he asked in subtle tone before kicking against the table.
Watching the glass layered table topple over and land with a loud crash didn’t bother him as his mind wandered on whether the perpetrator was coming back again to have it fixed or arranged where it ought to be.
“Shit!” he yelled in exhaustion.
Nothing about the cases made any sense to him now. First it was the murders being found and the inclusion of a strange body to his pile, and next their Captain was killed, sending the entire station into a state of pandemonium and unrest. The killer had an end game but he just wasn’t seeing it. The acts had not been taken without any underlying motive which was exactly what he continued to miss and it made him feel sickened badly.
Hearing the sound of a ruck pull by, he hurried to the window to cast his gaze outside; it wasn’t the same one he had seen before over at Sarah’s place and it brought him a sigh in relief.
‘Sarah”, he thought.
He gave a brief thought into the profiler he knew absolutely nothing about asides from the fact she got drafted in for the case as the professional who has a reputation with solving murder mysteries wherever she went. He needed help with a lot of things and asking for it has
