CHAPTER 5- TANGLED LINES

The icy water hit me like a slap, stealing the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The water was freezing, which stings every part of your body and makes you forget how to breathe. Before I could even scream, the lake swallowed me whole. The rope around my waist and chest pulled me down, dragging me further into the dark abyss.

My limbs flailed instinctively, but every movement seemed to tighten the rope, pressing against my ribs and crushing what little air remained in my lungs. My heart pounded in my ears, the sound muffled by the suffocating pressure of the water.

I needed air. Now.

I struggled beneath the water trying to set my hands free, my eyes burning from the chills of the water that overshadowed it. I clawed at the rope binding my chest, my fingers trembling from the cold and the panic. The fibers were wet and slick, but I dug my nails into the knot, tugging desperately. Forced my body to still, ignoring the screaming in my lungs. My fingers worked faster, finding a small gap in the knot. It wasn't enough to loosen the rope completely, but I could shift it—just enough to free one arm.

With my left arm free, I yanked at the rope around my waist, my movements distraught. Seconds stretched into eternity as I fought against the bindings, but finally, they slipped loose. I kicked upward, my legs burning with effort. The surface was so close—I could see the faint shimmer of moonlight—but my chest felt like it would explode.

My head burst above the water, and I gasped, coughing and choking as I sucked in the night air. The cold stung my face, but I didn't care. I was alive.

Treading water, I scanned the shore. It was far, but reachable. Summoning the last reserves of my strength, I swam, each stroke a battle against the cold and exhaustion.

When my feet finally touched the muddy bottom, I stumbled onto the shore and collapsed. The ropes still hung loosely around my waist, a reminder of how close I had come to drowning.

But what matters most now is, that I had escaped.

I woke up panting, gasping for air. A burning sensation formed at the back of my throat. My chest felt tight as if someone had their hands around my throat. My skin was damp, and the covers wrapped around me like a tarp. For a moment, I couldn't figure out where I was. The scent of stale air, faint perfume, and coffee residue anchored me back to the room. I turned to see if she was in bed, her hair messy but peaceful on the pillow.

The images refused to leave my head. The nightmares felt too real now, too close. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the memory. I thought killing him would stop the nightmares—it didn't—if anything made it worse. But why? I let out a heavy sigh, running my hands through my hair. Coffee. I need coffee.

I got off the bed, careful—not to wake her.

I need to convince her to give me a description sooner and maybe take a look at those logbooks again.

 I grabbed my shirt from the table, where I threw it last night. I sighed looking at my now ripped shirt. She kept tossing and turning, mumbling something in her sleep. I turned to look at her, reminiscing the event of last night before heading to the kitchen. The sound of the machine echoed in the kitchen as it boiled down the coffee.

I grabbed the hot steaming liquid and poured it into the mug. I noticed something on the couch in the living room. I went over and saw it was the Smith case file. I have a lot on my plate right now. From Nauthers to Wilder to questioning my sexuality and now the Smith case. I sat down on the couch—rubbing my eyes, opening the case file the picture of the husband stood there, teary-eyed. Robert Smith. His name stared right back at me.

The case was deeper than it looked. It was staged to look like a robbery gone wrong but a lot of things were off. From the wrong statement—to none of the items missing—to the 10 cases of assault charges dropped. Who gets charged with assault 10 times and it so magically happens to just get dropped? Either two things, money—or—a connection to very powerful people. I heard the door to the room open, she stepped in—only in what appeared to be my sweatshirt.

"Getting comfortable, are we?" I said staring at the shirt my grandma had given me on her neck.

"I just thought it looked nice on me and I should give it a go" She jumped on the couch giving me a peck.

"Hey uhm—listen, Becky. I do like you but I want us to take things slow." I had looked into her bag earlier to find out her name. I couldn't risk making another mistake. Who knows what would put her off?

"I understand, I just wanted to feel comfy is all." She felt embarrassed and was fiddling with her fingers.

"I get it, and I'm glad you understand." I stretched my hands around her shoulder and drew her to me.

I hated this proximity, this closeness with her. I don't even understand what I felt last night. I never let anyone get this close but at this point, I don't have an option.

"Hey, I'm going to stop by to check out the log books again. I hope you don't mind" I said while burying my face into her hair—which surprisingly smelled nice.

"Nooo, I can't. It's against protocol to show it twice, you've already seen it once haven't you" she raised her head to face mine.

"But you can work something out for me, can't you? Please" I grabbed her chin and shook it, wiggling her nose with mine."

She sighed before agreeing. "Fine, but I would have to bring it over here then"

"Okay cool, let's do that then." I embraced her in a warm hug before going to get my coffee only to realise it had gotten cold.

"I'm going to go take a shower before I leave then," she said heading back to the room.

Thank god that worked. She is sweet but also so easy to trick into all of this. Is that what happens? Being so open-minded and trusting allows people to take advantage of you. But what I'm doing here is of good—right?

The kitchen countertop vibrated as I looked down, the light on the screen almost blinding me. A message popped up on the screen of my phone. Where are you Khloe? We need to talk. A text from Asher.

What does he want now? I don't need to have a conversation with him again. I already have a lot to think about, I don't need to add another one. I headed into the other bathroom to take my bath.

I must find a way to balance my work life with my personal life. It is going to get harder as a lot of things are already on my plate but I have to find a way. I looked over at the clock at 8:40 am. She had left 30 minutes earlier to go change at her house before heading to work.

I grabbed my watch and suitcase and headed outside. I opened the door only for my face to hit something hard.

"Ow" I rubbed my hands on my head, and my butt met with the cold concrete of the floor. I quickly scurried around to pick up my stuff.

I looked up to see it was Asher. The look of disgust and surprise flooded me.

"So this where you live uh," He said leaning at the doorstep with a grin on his face, stretching his hand out.

"Did you follow me?" I asked, smacking his hand hard.

"No, Jamal gave me your address. I am not a stalker" He added, his grin had disappeared, having a more serious look on his face. He didn't even flinch.

What the hell was he doing here? The last thing I want is for him to know my home.

"What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.

"You left this at the precinct." He held up the file—one of the less critical ones, thank God. "Figured you might need it"

You don't need to bring it. I was already on my way to the precinct." I snatched the file from his hands.

"No, but I thought I'd do you a favor." He pushed past me into the apartment before I could stop him. "Nice place, by the way. Minimalist. Very…you."

"Get to the point, Asher." I closed the door, locking it behind him.

He turned to face me. "I don't think you're telling me everything about this case."

"Which case?"

"The Smith case. I saw how you locked up those files, and how you snapped at me last night. You are hiding something, and it's not just about the husband. What's going on, Khloe?"

 He was too observant, too curious for his good. But I couldn't let him know the truth—not yet. Or maybe it was me not covering my tracks. Mu being paranoid has let me slip out a dark side of myself for him to see.

"I'm not hiding anything," I said, my voice calm. "I'm just thorough. Maybe if you spent less time trying to psychoanalyze me and more time working the case, we'd get somewhere."

Asher didn't flinch. If anything, he looked more intrigued. "Thorough, huh? Is that why you stopped at the hotel earlier? To be thorough?"

I froze. How did he know about that?

"Relax," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I just followed up after you left. The receptionist mentioned you were looking at the logbook."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because you're my partner," he said simply. "And partners don't keep secrets. So, care to explain what you were looking for?"

I couldn't tell him it was not for the Smith case but for my flaw in carrying out a mission. I thought I had everything covered up but I didn't—now someone is trying to find—maybe kill me.

"Just following a lead," I said finally. "Nothing worth sharing yet."

Asher studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. But when you're ready to talk, you know where to find me."

He walked to the door, holding it open for me.

I pushed past him as he clicked the door shut behind him. I felt his gaze on me as I placed the key into the lock.

"What?" I turned to him, my hands still on the keys in the lock.

"Nothing. I just wonder what goes on in your mind is all. You are a very strange girl." His eyes narrowed as he moved closer.

"You don't tell a girl she is strange. I wonder how you pull women" I changed the topic quickly, moving away from him.

He blocked my path, chuckling. He leaned in just enough to invade my space, his lips curling into a smirk. "Who said I pull women the usual way, Khloe? I have... other talents."

I shoved him away with my hands it didn't do anything as he was way stronger than I was.

"Well let's just meet back at work okay?" He went towards his car and opened the door—turning to face me.

"Yeah sure" I assured him I stood at the entrance of my door.

"Khloe don't go anywhere else" His gaze fixed on me.

"I am not going anywhere" I scoffed folding my hands around my chest.

I turned the key and stepped back inside, shutting the door with a click. My apartment felt colder, emptier now, as if his presence had left a void. I leaned against the door, pressing my palms against the wood, letting the cool surface ground me. My mind was racing.

Why was he so damn persistent? And what was his angle? Was he genuinely trying to help, or was he fishing for something?

I exhaled sharply and walked back to the couch, the Smith case file still clutched in my hand. I tossed it onto the table and stared at it, my mind spinning. Robert Smith... assault charges, connections, lies. The whole thing was messy.

I picked up my coffee—the taste bitter down my throat—it had gone cold. I poured it down the drain and placed the mug on the sink. No time to dwell. I had work to do. The logbook. The woman. The case. Asher. Everything was a tangled web, and I was in the middle of it, trying not to get caught.

But then again, maybe I liked the danger. Maybe the constant edge of being discovered was what kept me alive.

Grabbing my coat, I glanced at the mirror on the way out. My reflection stared back—dark circles under my eyes, hair a mess, lips pressed into a thin line. I looked like hell. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not as long as I stayed ahead. I stepped outside, the brisk air biting at my skin. The day had only just begun, but I already felt the weight of it pressing down.

Asher wasn't wrong—I was hiding something. But it wasn't just from him. It was from everyone. Even myself.

I couldn't trust anybody with my secret. Not now—not ever. Even my parents knew I changed they kept asking what happened that night but I just told them I was robbed. They knew I was hiding something but I never told them. They took me to countless therapy but I couldn't open up. If I can't tell my parents what happened what makes it so sure I will tell him.

I let out a sigh pulling out of the driveway. I have too much on my plate to be thinking about that now. I have to get that logbook again. If I didn't have to deal with therapy, I would be at the hotel by 2 but it was mandatory by the lieutenant I take it.

This was not how I imagined life would be after the kill. I parked my car in my usual spot and sipped on the last of my Starbucks coffee. I had stopped for a Starbucks earlier when I couldn't drink my coffee at home. I have been drinking coffee a lot now and it sucks but I have to if I want much ground covered.

In the meantime, I need to look up the cases dropped against Robert a.k.a Mr Smith. I got out of the car and headed into the precinct. The homicide department was more crowded than usual possibly because of a murder case that was closed 5 years ago and reopened. They were bringing every witness and suspect in for questioning.

I headed to my desk—already, heaps of names awaited my arrival. I had to bring them in for questioning. I sat down and pushed them to the side as I switched on my computer. I need to find out whatever Robert was hiding. He has to be a pervert to get accused of assault 10 times. But it's not enough to act on suspicion.

It's not a code thing—like the movie Dexter. It's just a moral conduct I developed. I don't kill men just because they seem guilty; I kill them because they are guilty. Proof is what separates me from people like him.

If I took an innocent life—even by mistake—I wouldn't be avenging anyone. I'd just be another predator, no better than the monsters I claim to hate.

That's why I need to keep digging. Not everything can be hidden. Because if I'm wrong about Robert, the guilt would suffocate me far worse than any rope ever could. Finding Robert was harder than I'd expected. For a man with such a squeaky-clean public image, I shouldn't have been surprised. People like him always knew how to hide their dirt.

But dirt never stayed buried for long.

I made my way to the filing department, a musty corner of the precinct where old casework—dating back 100 years was stored. I should be able to find something. Miss Daisy, an older woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, managed it like a fortress. Most people hated talking to her, but I'd always found that a little charm and patience went a long way.

"Miss Daisy," I said, leaning on the counter. "I'm looking for any cases involving Robert Smith. Maybe something that got... overlooked?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why would you need that? Smith's a big-shot lawyer, not a criminal."

I smiled faintly. "Let's just say I've got reasons to believe otherwise. Can you help me?"

She huffed, muttering about the world going to hell, but eventually, she disappeared into the back. After an agonizing wait, she returned with a thin stack of files.

"These are what we've got. Nothing's ever gone to trial, though. People like him always have lawyers of their own, don't they?"

I nodded my thanks and took the files to a quiet corner. As I flipped through the pages, a pattern began to emerge. Complaints of sexual assault, are all eerily similar. Women report being cornered, harassed, and worse. The details were horrifying enough, but what twisted the knife was how many of these cases never made it past initial reporting. I turned the page to see the names of the women and their addresses. I could go find them and ask—just to clarify things.

I closed the file, my knuckles white.

This wasn't justice. This was silence.

And yet, I couldn't act—not yet. I knew Asher and I had an interview scheduled with Robert today. If I wanted to face him, to see him, I needed to keep my cool. More than that, I needed to know how far he'd go to cover his tracks.

But even as I planned, my mind wandered. These women… they deserved more than the silence they'd been forced to endure.

After the interview, I'd find them. I'd piece together what little hope they had left. And then, if the evidence held, I'd make sure Robert Smith could never hurt anyone again.

I took out the names and the addresses of the women and handed the files back to her.

"Would you please, not mention this to anybody?" I asked her politely.

"Sure, I am cranky but I'm not a gank" She snatched the files away from my hands, mumbling something before she left. She was strange but I liked her like that.

I headed out and was going back to the department when Asher stormed towards my direction. His usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be found—his steps quick, his face a mixture of urgency and dread.

"We've got something," he said breathlessly, stopping in front of me.

My pulse quickened. "Smith?" I asked, my voice steady despite the flicker of nerves.

He shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. "No, not Smith. Wilder's case. There's been a development."

Time stopped for a moment.

Wilder. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind raced through possibilities, excuses, and contingencies all at once. "What kind of development?" I asked, my voice calm, though my hands tightened into fists under the desk.

Asher leaned closer, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret. "Forensics found something. Something big."

I swallowed hard, trying not to show the alarm rushing through my veins. "What… exactly?"

"I don't know all the details yet," he admitted. "But they're saying it's a solid lead. Enough to blow the case wide open. Captain's calling for a meeting in fifteen minutes to go over everything."

My heart thundered in my chest. A solid lead? It couldn't be possible. I'd covered my tracks perfectly—or so I thought. If I had I wouldn't be in this game with Nauthers or whoever sent that note. I knew how big the Wilder case would get, knowing The Wilders' contribution to the community and also their status. He had money and power but I didn't care at the time.

For a split second, I considered the idea of skipping the meeting entirely. But that would only raise suspicion, and I couldn't afford to make a single wrong move.

"Alright," I said, forcing a neutral expression onto my face. "Let's hear what they've got."

Asher nodded, already turning toward the briefing room. I grabbed my coat, my mind spinning. If they'd found something that could tie back to me, this wasn't just a problem.

This was the end of everything.