"Oh, where are you going?" Detective Ace asks irritably, his brows furrowing in frustration. I suppress the urge to raise an eyebrow, knowing it would only further aggravate him. We stand in front of their imposing station, its towering presence casting a shadow over us.
"I'm just going to satisfy my hunger with a quick bite. After all, psychopaths get hungry too," I retort, a sly smirk playing on my lips. His penetrating gaze, honed from our countless encounters, fails to rattle me anymore.
"Go inside, I'll take care of the purchase. Lesia is already waiting for you," he insists, his voice tinged with impatience.
"Do you have any inkling of my culinary preferences? How about my drink? My dessert? The forbidden seasonings that tickle my palate?" I fire a barrage of questions at him, each one a strategic needle aimed at his composure.
Momentarily caught off guard, he stumbles over his words. I've employed these interrogative tactics on numerous occasions, always emerging triumphant in the end.
"Fine, just make it quick. And don't you dare even entertain the thought of..." he starts to warn me, his voice trailing off.
"Escaping? Shall I indulge in a morbid guessing game of how you'll meet your demise?" I interject, a touch of sadistic amusement lacing my words.
"Hey!" His annoyance reaches its boiling point, his face flushing with frustration. "Why didn't you become a fortune teller instead of assuming the role of a teacher, huh?"
"Why? Should you also transform into a piece of fried chicken just because it happens to be your favorite?" I retort, my tone dripping with mockery.
"Just leave! Damn it!" he curses, storming ahead of me into the station. I suppressed a secret chuckle, relishing the minor victory in our verbal exchange.
I navigate the streets with nonchalance, leisurely crossing over to the nearest Jollibee. The bustling fast-food joint greets me with a long queue, leaving me with no choice but to patiently wait my turn. Standing amidst the crowd, I reach for my phone and dial Lesia's number.
"Where are you?" she answers promptly, her voice filled with curiosity.
"I'm at Jollibee. Is there anything you'd like me to grab for you?" I inquired, my words laced with a hint of mischief.
"Yes, please? I haven't had lunch either," she responds, a hint of hunger evident in her voice.
"Me too!" a male voice chimes in, joining our conversation.
"Order more. I'll reimburse you later. Give me a call when you're about to leave, and Detective Kenneth will come to pick you up," I instruct, my voice concise and to the point.
"Copy," I hear Lesia reply, acknowledging my instructions.
After a while, I manage to place my order, the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. Struggling to carry the drinks, the condensation moistening my palms, I hastily dial Lesia's number once again for assistance. Feeling a slight strain on my arms, I decide to carefully set the bags of food on an unoccupied table nearby. As I glance around, taking in the bustling surroundings, I suddenly catch sight of Detective Ace's intense gaze fixed upon me.
"Kenneth has worked," he quickly explains, his voice tinged with urgency, as he swiftly gathers all the food bags, his hands deftly navigating the handles. Responding to the urgency, I swiftly secure the drinks, their coolness seeping through the containers, and we make our way out of the bustling establishment.
As we navigate the busy street, my mind is momentarily distracted, and a sudden realization strikes me like lightning—I left my cell phone behind on the table.
"Oh! My phone," I exclaim, a tinge of worry edging my voice.
"Hey! You're here," Lesia chimes in, just emerging from the eatery's entrance.
"Perfect, could you please hold these for a moment? I'll quickly go back and retrieve my cell phone," I hastily request, my hands gingerly passing all the belongings into her waiting grasp.
"I'll handle it. You just go inside," Detective Ace says in a gentle tone, momentarily catching me off guard since his gentlemanly demeanor isn't something I typically anticipate. Well, if one could even classify that kind of offer as gentlemanly.
Or perhaps he's just putting on an act because Lesia is present? It's evident that he holds a great deal of respect for my friend, which I genuinely appreciate, at least to some extent.
"I'll take care of it. You go ahead inside," I respond, my voice infused with a blend of curiosity and gratitude.
Taking a few hurried steps, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, my attention is abruptly drawn to a blur of motion hurtling towards me—an approaching motorcycle at breakneck speed. Reacting instinctively, my body moves on its own accord, sidestepping the imminent danger. Yet, the driver, concealed beneath a sturdy helmet, expertly maneuvers the handlebars, its action directed right at me, leaving no room for escape. Despite the visor concealing its face, I sense a malevolent intent emanating from its presence.
"Ainslynn!" Lesia's voice reverberates, a desperate plea tinged with fear. Glancing back at her, my peripheral vision captures a harrowing sight—the driver of the motorcycle, its obscured countenance, deliberately aiming a weapon in my direction.
In an instant, Detective Ace instinctively drops all the food bags, his focused determination shining through, as he summons all his strength to yank me away from the impending threat.
Miraculously, his swift action succeeds in altering my trajectory, narrowly averting the path of the bullet. The deafening sound of gunfire fills the air, two distinct shots resonating— one originating from the motorcycle driver, and the other discharged by Lesia, bravely defending us.
"Fuck!" Detective Ace's voice resounds with a mix of frustration and rage, his expletive punctuating the chaotic scene. Lesia echoes his sentiment, her expression transformed into a mask of fury, a fire blazing in her eyes.
Together, Detective Ace and I crumble to the ground, a tumble of limbs and adrenaline, as I instinctively shield him from harm, preventing any injury or grazes from befalling either of us.
"Are you okay?" Lesia anxiously inquires, her voice filled with genuine concern, extending a helping hand to assist me in rising to my feet.
"What the hell? Are you really okay?" Detective Ace demands, his tone filled with genuine concern.
I'm not okay, but I can't let it show. Admitting that my chest feels like it's about to burst from fear won't change anything. It would only burden Lesia with worry, and we can't afford to be sidetracked.
Yeah, right. Distraction. We must stay laser-focused on unraveling the mystery behind Kira's death, even as the intensity of the situation threatens to consume us.
I nod immediately, my heart pounding in my chest, and without uttering a word, I swiftly make my way back to my precious cell phone. The mere idea of parting with it sends a tremor coursing down my back.
Fortunately, as I reach the spot where I left it, a wave of relief washes over me—no one has taken it. Clutching the device tightly in my hand, I hasten back to the station, my footsteps quick and purposeful, determined to rejoin the others outside.
"What are you doing?" the man demands, his voice laced with anger. "Is that cell phone more important to you than your own life?"
"What are you doing?" the man demands, his voice seething with anger, cutting through the tension in the air like a sharp blade. "Is that cell phone more important to you than your own life?"
Yes, the words teeter on the tip of my tongue, ready to ignite a fiery response, but I quell the urge to unleash my pent-up frustration. Engaging in a futile argument would only exacerbate the already precarious situation.
"Isn't it clear to you yet? You're also in danger!" he insists, his voice dripping with urgency and concern.
"Enough, Detective Ace," I retort, my voice carrying a mix of defiance and bitterness. "So what if I'm in danger? When have you ever cared about my safety?"
Silence hangs heavy in the air as his gaze narrows, his eyes filled with disdain, cutting through me like a piercing glare. With a resigned shake of my head, I come to a stark realization—we are destined to clash, perpetually at odds with each other, like opposing forces that can never find common ground.
My grip on the cell phone tightens, and I take a moment to compose myself. The murder case files stored within this device hold immense significance to me, their contents are a crucial puzzle that must not fall into the wrong hands. Should anyone stumble upon them, they might mistake it for the twisted diary of a psychopath, unaware that it contains detailed soft copies of the murder cases I have meticulously documented.
"I'm hungry," I calmly interject, my voice a facade masking the fear that courses through my veins like a torrent. Swallowing hard, I lend Lesia a helping hand as we retrieve the food bags, relieved to find that none of the precious sustenance has been spilled or damaged.
"Let's find shelter inside," Lesia suggests, her voice carrying a hint of urgency. Just as we contemplate our next move, two additional detectives approach us, their presence a welcome reinforcement of this unnerving situation.
"Our CCTV cameras have captured the entire incident," one of them informs us, a glimmer of reassurance in his tone.
With a silent nod, I align myself with Lesia's lead, silently acknowledging the unspoken plan. At that moment, my gaze briefly meets Detective Ace's, and within the depths of his intense stare, I catch a flicker of concern mingled with unwavering determination.
We enter the building, and the heavy door creaks as it swings closed behind us. The sound of our footsteps echoes against the tiled floor as we make our way down the corridor. As we reach their department, the air grows tense, charged with anticipation. I feel my hands trembling, a subtle quiver betraying the mix of nerves and determination within me. Carefully, I place the bags on a nearby table, the surface cool beneath my fingertips.
"That person has the audacity to attempt a murder right in front of our station, huh?" comments a woman, her voice laced with disbelief.
"You're right, Detective Marie. Hold on, who is she again? The suspect?" asks the male detective, who I think is Detective Kenneth whom Lesia was talking to on the phone earlier. And judging by his looks, I assume the suspect he's referring to is me.
Lesia quickly snaps back at them, her words sharp and assertive, defending my innocence. "Suspect? Since when did we bring a suspect inside our department?"
Suspect? Do I really look like a criminal? The thought flickers in my mind, a fleeting self-doubt that is swiftly extinguished by my unwavering belief in my own integrity.
"Witness," replies Detective Ace from behind me, his voice calm yet resolute. Both Lesia and I turn to face him, a glimmer of hope reflected in our eyes as his validation resonates within me.
Something leaps in my chest, a surge of relief mingled with a newfound sense of trust. Finally, he believes in me too, and that realization fills me with a renewed sense of purpose.
"Let's eat. You must be hungry, right?" he adds, his words breaking the tension and bringing us back to the present moment, where sustenance and camaraderie await.
"Yeah, let's have a meal first," Detective Marie agrees, a faint smile curling the corners of her mouth.
Lesia gives me a knowing look, silently affirming our shared journey and unspoken understanding. I can't help but return her gaze with a smile of my own, gratitude and determination shining in my eyes.
Amidst the anticipation and relief, I hear Detective Ace's measured footsteps approaching where I stand. Each step echoes in the stillness of the room as he stops beside me, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty.
"But I still have my doubts about you," he says directly to me, his voice tinged with a mix of caution and curiosity. He then turns and walks straight to where the food is set up, his gaze fixed on the spread before him.
I'll make you believe in me completely tomorrow, Detective Ace. From now on, you'll be the one who willingly comes to me for help. With these thoughts echoing in my mind, I take a deep breath, ready to face the challenges that lie ahead.
***
Detective Ace and Lesia exchange glances at me, their expressions a mix of skepticism and confusion. They seem unsure whether to doubt me or simply struggle to grasp the significance of my words.
"Okay, let's say you possess supernatural powers and have knowledge of what will befall Kira. Can you provide a clearer explanation regarding the identity of the killer?" the male detective grumbles, his frustration evident.
I furrow my brow, scratching my forehead in contemplation. "I am convinced that the killer is male, and the accomplice is female. However, I cannot ascertain whether the accomplice is directly involved or the mastermind behind the whole scheme. At present, our priority should be uncovering the true identity of Daxxe."
"Daxxe? So that's the reason behind your relentless search. Ace, do you happen to know anyone by that name? Considering your pursuit of Kira, it seems unlikely she wouldn't have mentioned it," Lesia interjects, her gaze shifting between us.
Ace falls silent, his mind lost in thought. Lesia's observation strikes a chord; perhaps Kira did mention Daxxe to him.
"Kira never disclosed anything of the sort to me," he finally responds, his face a mask of neutrality. I can't bring myself to confront him directly. Kira's identity isn't our primary concern; to unravel the case, we must start from the very beginning.
I retrieve a handkerchief from my bag and place it on the table, catching Ace's attention as he swiftly picks it up.
"Where did you find this handkerchief?" he inquires promptly.
"On the rooftop. That's where Kira frequents. She acquires something there before she designated clock-out time," I explain.
"Are you certain you saw it on the rooftop, Lynn?" Lesia seeks clarification.
"Yes."
Lesia's remark triggers a realization within me, further piquing Ace's interest in the conversation.
"There's something amiss," she continues, her statement resonating between us. In response, Ace and I lapse into a contemplative silence.
"What do you mean?" Ace finally breaks the silence, his curiosity apparent.
"Come on, Ace! You're aware that before heading to Ainslynn's house, I visited Xell Hospital to chase a lead. I ended up on the rooftop, and there's no way I wouldn't have noticed it there," I assert, emphasizing the incongruity.
Ace places the handkerchief back on the table, and my gaze remains fixed upon it. Both of us remain immersed in deep thought, searching for the missing piece of the puzzle.
Suddenly, an idea strikes me. "What about Kira's friend?" I blurt out.
"You mean, Doctor Jhasmine?" Ace responds, acknowledging the connection.
Jhasmine is Kira's close friend, and it seems inconceivable for her to be involved in the crime.
"Even a child can harbor the capacity to harm their own parents," Lesia interjects, her tone laden with skepticism. "However, we lack substantial evidence to suspect Jhasmine. Nevertheless, it wouldn't hurt to question her regarding Kira..."
"I'll take care of it," Ace volunteers, meeting my intense gaze. "So, what's our next move? We need to gather information about what transpired concerning Kira inside the hospital, right? Jhasmine is one of our potential sources of information."
Lesia diligently records all the information we have discussed, meticulously jotting down the mentioned names on the whiteboard. As I observe her, the weight of the photographs depicting Kira from the previous night, combined with the fullness of my stomach, engenders a nauseating feeling within me.
"Daxxe is a potential killer," Lesia declares, her voice breaking the heavy silence in the room. Her eyes filled with determination, she continues, "Let's imagine for a moment that he's a psychopathic stalker fixated on Kira. There must be a reason why he took that girl's heart. And if my instincts are correct, Ace, you might be one of the reasons why he decided to end Kira's life."
"I couldn't agree more," I chime in, my voice laced with conviction. My friend and I share the same conclusion, a conclusion that may sound trite but often holds the truth. Sometimes the answers are right in front of us, yet we choose to overlook them, willingly complicating matters.
"The lingering question remains: who is the female accomplice?" Lesia adds, her brows furrowing in deep thought. I can only shrug, feeling the weight of uncertainty resting upon my shoulders, as I confess my lack of knowledge about the woman's identity.
"Hey!" Detective Ace interjects abruptly, his sudden outburst catching me off guard. Startled, I meet his gaze, both surprised and perplexed.
"Did I say something wrong, Detective Ace?" I ask, my confusion evident.
"Don't just brush it off like that. You should know who that woman is because you mentioned her involvement in the crime," he retorts firmly, his voice holding a hint of frustration.
Aish, this jerk detective!
Lesia erupts into laughter, finding amusement in the tension-filled atmosphere. "You're quite the character, Ace. Maybe you should take a nap to clear your mind. The progress of this case would certainly be swifter if you approach it with a clear head."
"I assure you, my mind is clear," Detective Ace responds, his gaze shifting momentarily toward me.
"And I'm the psycho?" I retort sarcastically, interjecting to shield myself from the sharp edges of his words. Lesia's laughter grows louder, filling the room with an air of mirth.
"I'm heading to the hospital now to speak with Jhasmine," he declares, his voice resonating with unwavering determination.
"Okay," I respond, my voice carrying a mix of resignation and understanding.
"What do you mean 'okay'? You're coming with me," he asserts firmly, his words leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation.
"But I have to go back to school..." I weakly protest, the weight of my responsibilities tugging at my conscience.
"Or should I add your name to the list of suspects?" he interjects, his words dripping with a calculated challenge, causing my frustration to surge.
Damn you, you insufferable jerk!
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