Chapter 7

Before the first light of day broke on the horizon, I was already up and kicking.

I did some breathing exercises and a few yoga stretches beside the open french doors to chase away any stress building up in my body.

It was a bright and sunny day. The air smelled of fresh green mint and musty forest wood.

The birds were chirping merrily. I had a job offer at the ready. I had a substantial lead on Samantha's case. I was a step ahead of ole Detective Michael. My bike was fixed. A creepy man was watching me from outside…

I froze mid-stretch.

Wait… what?!

The balcony of the first floor was facing a side of the forest. The french glass doors that led to the balcony were wide open, permitting dawn's cold air to reach me.

I could clearly see from my spot... a creepy guy in a brown hoodie just 50 meters away. He or she was standing there by the treelines. Half of the stranger's body was partially hidden behind a tree trunk.

If you didn't pay much attention to detail, you wouldn't have noticed him with that impeccable camouflage, but as a detective, it was in my nature to be hypervigilant to details, no matter how small.

I remained calm, acting as if I hadn't noticed.

Who is it? My stalkers from college? Jack? That serial killer Prince? Mr. X?

No. That's impossible! Nobody knows I'm here except the detective. It could be anyone.

I stood up casually, stretching my arms upwards before walking away to conceal myself behind a wall.

I quickly snatched my binoculars from my bag and squatted behind the curtains. Carefully tucking the curtain aside slightly, I adjusted the binoculars and looked through to see who this stranger was.

What I saw was a brown hoodie and a... wait. Was he wearing a mask?

Alright, this is definitely another creepy stalker. I've had many past experiences of being stalked and boy, was it drains a lot of energy.

Firstly, the motive is unclear. Some of my stalkers wanted to kill me; Prince is a good example of that. He was relentless!

We had this wild dog, cat and mouse chase for months; me, the police and Prince himself. It was crazy, he was crazy. But it was fun though... in a way. Except the fact that he was set on disemboweling me and turning my corpse into a live doll.

There were some who were just darn obsessed with me like creepy Jack Slate, while others... I don't even want to discuss that.

You can see why Detective Michael is so overprotective. But hey, I'm still alive, aren't I?

Now, I need to catch this creepy masked man. I couldn't exactly tell where he was looking at, but a man wearing a mask at this unearthly hour??? With no particular masquerade party or special occasion whatsoever... it could only mean one thing.

Whether he's got evil intentions or not, he was gonna have to do some explaining to the judge.

I quickly slipped on my running shoes, put on a vest, strapped a holster to my right leg and grabbed a gun—

Hold up. Everybody calm down! I'm a licensed user.

I did a quick check up to make sure everything's secure: I was armed, got my favorite shoes for chasing bad guys on and totally pumped up. Yup! That's all.

Without another thought, I burst through the curtains and jumped from the balcony all the way down the ground floor. It wasn't that high really, considering I've done parkour with so many assailants before. Especially, with my still unknown stalker whom I had named Mr. X. He was my worst rival who had these mad skills in fighting, a genius mastermind and remained anonymous to me even now.

When I landed on the ground with a swift duck-roll, what I didn't expect was that there were a few hotel staff there so early in the morning.

What the?

They all yelped in surprise upon seeing me jump more than fifteen feet high. You can imagine how I appeared to them, an armed blonde woman jumping from a high balcony—has she gone cuckoo? Was she on drugs?

I didn't have enough time to come up with an excuse to them, and started running. I can't allow myself to lose visuals on the target. I mentally facepalmed myself, knowing I have a lot of explaining to do about being armed once I return.

I saw the hooded man far ahead. He was starting to run just as I advanced toward his direction.

Oh, he's definitely looking guilty.

I chased the masked creep, sailing through the woods like a movie's heroine. He was fast, seeing how he made such a huge gap between us in a matter of seconds, so I began speeding up to the best of my ability.

We made zigzag patterns through the forest, preventing ourselves from running face-first against the trees as we went deeper and deeper. I think I heard some crows cawing there too. Totally not a good sign.

The sun rose higher beyond the horizon, rays of daylight streaming through the small spaces in between the trees, branches, leaves and bushes.

My breathing started getting heavier as a minute passed. It was cold out here but I still broke out a thin line of sweat across my forehead. Everything looked like a blur as I whizzed past tree trunks and uneven dry ground like my life depended on it.

I always prided myself with being the fastest runner I know, which was primarily the reason why I'm still alive now, but this man was proving to be a difficult feat for me to catch.

Twenty meters away is still too far. How can I catch him? Just hope that he stumbles over a rock?

Think!

The man, damn him, jumped over a tall hedge that looked like it could have reached his elbows. That's a pretty intimidating hedge overhead.

No, no, no. Too high. I don't think I can make that jump!

It was either I try to accelerate my speed to gain leverage and take my chances for that jump, or I slow down before I crash against its thorny twigs.

I couldn't decide faster than 5 seconds, but the closer I came to the hedge, the bigger my doubt became. I knew then I couldn't make the jump nor take such a stake, so I screeched to a halt and pulled out my gun.

Panting as though I had run a marathon, which I kind of did, I shouted in the silent forest, "Freeze!"

I pointed the gun behind the man's quickly disappearing figure, but I knew it was a lost cost.

He was unarmed and he hadn't actually attacked me. He was just running away.

I couldn't shoot him, both by order of the law and of my conscience. Seconds ticked past as I watched his figure disappear gradually into the dense forest area.

I lost him.

Still breathing heavily, I sheathed my weapon back into my holster. I then squatted near one of the stranger's footprints.

I took a picture with my phone which I managed to slip into my pocket. Taking one look at the footprints, I could reckon his foot size as 11 inches.

Comparing the gap in between the footprints and sprinting speed per second, I reckon his legs must be long, in proportion to his upper body muscles, it would make him about 6 feet 5 inches plus something.

I inspected the depth of the sole of his shoes... he's gotta be one heavy man, estimating his approximate height and how deep the prints dug into the earth, that would make his body mass to be around 250 plus lbs?

Oh hell, I thought, shaking my head. How big was this man?

Of course, I couldn't be too sure about these findings with just a minor observation. They're all just estimates. There were still a lot of elements to consider here: the inertia, force, leg muscles, speed power and adrenaline.

Everything had happened too fast and he had been too far ahead for me to get a better look at his vital statistics. If I had seen him up close, I'd have easily recognized him in a crowd even without that mask and hoodie.

He's got to have been a great athlete to have made that flawless jump!

Looking up at the tall, intimidating wall of green leaves, I felt amazed by the guy. Even though I knew parkour, I couldn't hoist myself up there. The thing was made of small twigs and leaves! I'd have to jump really high without touching that wall in order to pass through.

I went to my SMS and MMS app to give some heads up to the detective.

Noticing that last night's brief conversation had ironically been about my last stalker, I typed in, "I think I've got a new stalker. I'm not too sure how to feel about that."

Surprisingly, the phone tells me that he was already online. Must be texting someone?

I retraced my steps back to the hotel, waiting for the detective's response. I didn't have to wait long before my notification bell rang.

Why must you be a magnet

to all potential stalkers and psychopaths?

Stop exaggerating ol'e man.

I'm the one being stalked,

not you.

"Damn it, Sinclair. I was there two years ago," he replied, referring to the disaster that had been caused by Mr. X.

Why do you relish in

making me worry?

I froze upon reading his response.

Somehow, though my relationship with the old man was a bit rough, we've secretly cared and grew closer to each other. It was like a love-hate relationship, though not in a romantic way.

Ew. The guy's at least ten years older than me. Yeah. Definitely not in a romantic way.

I'm not.

This is just who I am detective.

I was born this way.

Danger is secretly my middle name.

There was a short pause, before he typed back.

You are aware that I hate you,

am I correct?

I swore that at that moment, I could feel him roll his eyes like a psychic. I laughed and almost walked straight to a tree, but I quickly regained my composure.

Oh but you love me too.

I added a winking emoji just to mock him. I love pressing his buttons.

It was then that I noticed a few other footprints on the ground so I stopped for a moment to squat down.

The footprints looked to be fresh too, maybe last night? There were two pairs. One was relatively smaller than the other. Me and the masked man had crossed the other pair, making an X-like sign at the center.

Could be hunters? From what I know, Sylvan had an abundant wildlife here.

I stood up and looked ahead where the two other set of footprints were headed into an unknown location... thinking, contemplating.

Should I? Or should I not? That is the question. Hmm...

I was tempted to follow the trails that led to somewhere I didn't know yet. Curiosity, you may say, is one of my Achilles' heel.

Before I could make a choice though, my phone pinged, breaking me from the trance.

Yikes! He always calls me Sinclair when he's pissed. But I'd prefer that over the "Ms. Sinclair" anyways.

Before I could type anything back, he was already calling.

The moment I answered the call, Detective Michael's gruff, angry voice greeted me. "Stay where you are. I'm coming for you Sinclair. Turn your GPS on."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please. I know my way back to the hotel. I'm just retracing our footprints."

There was a sudden cold pause from his line. "Our?" he deadpanned.

Oops! That came out unpremeditated.

"I was... chasing someone?"

There was only silence.

Why do I suddenly feel so nervous? I didn't do anything wrong. It's not like he's my dad. And I'm already a grown woman!

Clearing my throat, I repeated more confidently, "I was chasing someone. It was a hooded masked man. A masked man wearing a hoodie. A masked hooded man..."

I snickered at my own word plays. But I don't think the detective appreciated that.

"I'm on my way." The familiar sound of a car door closing resounded from his line just as he said that. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady."

I swallowed, not liking his peevish temper. "Also, I wanted your help with something. Talk to you later okay?"

I hung up before he could scold me any further. That man just grates my nerves whenever he throws these tantrums.

His arrival was much needed though. That licensed old man can explain my being armed to the hotel personnel. That's what his shiny badge thing was made for.

Things to do... so limited time.

*****

When the detective arrived, I gave him a detailed narration of what had occured. From my yoga exercise, my jumping over the balcony, the unsuccessful chase, and the footprints of the man I saw.

The detective's face remained passive the entire time, his eyes zeroing on me in that silent, dark look that you would give to someone who stole your cookie. I tried lightening his mood up with a joke, to no avail.

Jeez! He's such a hot-blooded guy.

I then asked him to explain to the entire staff earlier why I had been armed with a gun when I jumped from the balcony.

I didn't see who had witnessed my stunt earlier, so he had no choice but to speak to everyone. I couldn't just pack up my bags and leave; I still had to find Samantha. Making another disguise was also out of the question here.

I've already initiated contact with Sam's friends and even her brother. We could just hope that the hotel staff knew how to be discreet.

All the hotel staff, led by the manager, gathered in the employees' room after being called over by my ol'e man. This time, I made sure to conceal my weapon from view and wear my contact lenses.

Detective Michael flashed his shiny badge to them, saying in his serious top-secret, straight-to-business detective-ly manner, "Detective Michael O'Neil. I came here for official business. Me and my partner here," he gestured to me with a curt jerk of his head, "are undergoing a criminal investigation. I would request you all to keep silent of my undercover partner here and stop gossipping about what you saw earlier this morning."

"Why? What happened earlier?" a maid with brown hair asked.

"Nothing," Detective Michael responded flatly, freezing her into place with his hard gaze. He repeated, "Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing."

The poor maid fell silent and averted her gaze from him. I even noticed her slowly scooting behind a taller woman.

The other maid whom I recalled was the one who brought my dinner on my first night at the hotel chanced a glance at me, but I caught her and gave her a reassuring smile. I didn't want to scare anyone here. I may need their help. This was a huge backlash from my progress yesterday.

"Take note that you will all be liable and punishable by the law if this rookie's true identity were revealed." Rookie?

Detective Michael continued, "Should anything happen to her that was the result of your gossip-mongering indiscretion, you will answer to me. So, keep a tight mouth." He drag a cold, hard gaze over everyone across the room. "Is that clear?"

This is totally the opposite of what I was going for. That's why we never make a good pair. I make a friendly approach while he makes that "ooh-fear-me!" approach.

The manager was the one who answered the detective for the stunned employees. "Yes sir. We understand your situation. The entire staff and I will make sure that your partner would be properly taken care of. We are discreet with all our customers' information, and of course, your partner's will be strictly kept private in the same fashion." He was smiling as he said that but Detective Michael still didn't look impressed.

"I am still yet to be convinced."

The manager's smile faltered slightly. "Of course sir."

Detective Michael and the manager talked a bit more about lawsuits and contracts of confidentiality the employees needed to sign. Blah, blah, blah.

I had briefly wondered where Mrs. Olive was.

She is the owner of the hotel, so where is she then?

After everything had been finally wrapped up, we exited the room and resumed our schedules. But my ole man wasn't done with me yet. When we reached the garden to talk about my progress, he grabbed me by the elbows and literally shook me.

"Do you realize what could have happened to you?" he growled at me.

I blinked, shocked by his sudden outburst. "What?"

"You should have called me Sinclair! Not chase a random stranger into an unknown territory." He brought me closer to his face, making me shrink back from his unrestrained ire.

I couldn't speak. This was the first time I had seen him so worked up.

I was suddenly reminded how powerful a man could become when provoked.

Detective Michael's eyes were blazing in fury and his hair appeared unkempt as though he had been raking his fingers over them on his way here. His hands swallowed my elbows, completely encompassing them.

"I'm... sorry," I squeaked, eyes wide with unconcealed fear.

Mikee's brows furrowed, suddenly aware of how he is literally manhandling me. I must have looked like a mouse caught by a large lion by my figurative mouse tail. His powerful, large hands slowly loosened around my relatively frail elbows.

Mikee sighed in frustration, releasing me from his iron grip. "I didn't mean to do that." He ran his right hand over his hair, shutting his eyes close. "Please... Don't look at me like that, Sinclair."

"Like... what?" I asked, utterly lost.

The detective's eyes opened. "Don't look at me like you are about to make another escape."

Okay, he's totally lost me here. I am utterly discombobulated.

Another escape? What did he even mean by that?

Upon seeing my confounded expression, Mikee sighed again. "Ms. Sinclair. I just wished you'd be more careful. Promise me that. Stop playing with fire."

I took a careful look at the detective's features. His brows were knitted together, his eyes pleading me. His taught, manly visage had a bit of tan and his striking blue eyes shimmering in the bright morning light.

Detective Michael was a handsome man, no doubt about that. He could've been a great black suit or men's apparel model, but oh well.

"Okay. I promise ole man." I shrugged. "So are we gonna talk about my lead?"

I swore I saw something in his eyes as I said that. I just couldn't pinpoint what it was.

Why do I feel like I'm missing something here? Something noteworthy?

"No, just focus on your lead. I'm sure you can accomplish the task without my help. I have my own lead to follow."

Ohhh, he has? I wonder what it is?

Before I could say anything, he was already walking away. "Call me when you need me."

I watched his figure disappear from my line of sight.