3
1137 Words
CHAPTER 3
JACK
She visibly relaxed, thankful he did not press on further. Her stomach rumbled and she realized how hungry she was.
She hadn't eaten anything in hours.
"You should eat, even your stomach agrees with me." Jack chuckled.
Smiling at him as he ate, she decided to dig in as well, savoring the hot and spicy taste of the pasta.
…
They both stood outside, the night air cold and comfortable. Jack needed this date because for one, he needed her to let out clues—which she didn't, and two he needed to live a little.
Stepping into the cool night air. Jack offered his arm for her, and she took it, laughing softly as they walked back to their cars.
"That was really nice, Jack. I needed this," Olivia said, her voice a higher pitch.
"I’m glad you enjoyed it." Jack replied. "I did too. It’s been a while since I went out." He said as he sighed contentedly.
They strolled slowly, none of them in a hurry for the night to end.
As they strolled, Jack found himself stealing glances at Olivia. Her beauty was so striking and hard to ignore.
"So, what do you usually do on a night like this?" Olivia asked, breaking the comfortable silence and earning a chuckle from Jack.
"Well, when I’m not working on a case, I usually end up reading a book or catching up on some old movies. Nothing too exciting." He said and passed her a smile..
"I love old movies," Olivia said, her eyes meeting his. "There’s something… about them."
"Maybe we can watch one together sometime." Jack suggested, feeling quite bold.
"I’d like that," she replied, her smile widening as she looked up at him. He returned the smile.
They reached their cars, surprisingly they were parked side by side. Olivia turned to face Jack, a gentle breeze blowing and rustling her hair.
"Thanks again for tonight, Jack. It was perfect."
"It was my pleasure, Olivia." Jack said, feeling a blush creep up his face.
They stood there for a moment in a comfortable silence.
Something needed to be said at least.
"Drive safe," he said promptly opening her car door for her as a gentle man that he was.
"I will. Goodnight, Jack," Olivia replied, slipping into her car.
Jack waited by the side, watching as she started the engine and drove off.
He didn’t move until her tail lights disappeared around the corner. Then with a sigh, he got into his own car and headed home, a smile plastered on his face...
…
When he got to his apartment, Jack changed into something more comfortable and prepared for bed.
As he settled into his study to take a look at other cases, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet—Olivia’s wallet.
He had slipped it out of her bag during dinner when she left to take an important call, he had deemed the act of taking the wallet necessary.
Something about her screamed mysterious and she could be connected to the case, he needed to be sure.
He opened the wallet.
Inside, he found the usual items, credit cards, a driver’s license, some cash, and a few receipts.
He scrutinized everything, feeling the tension build as he found nothing out of the ordinary.
Just when he was about to close it and return it the next day telling her he had found it when he went back into the restaurant to use the restroom after she had left.
But something caught his eye. He noticed a small, folded piece of paper tucked away in a hidden compartment.
Hmm…
Jack pulled it out and unfolded the paper, his heart pounding. It was a note, hastily written. The words made his suspicion rise more, it read:
"Meet at the docks. Midnight. Payment upon delivery."
The message was clear, and it surely tied Olivia to something shady. But what?
Could the important call she went to take be part of this shady business? She said it was from work. Work?
As he stared at the note, a thousand questions raced through his mind.
Why would Olivia be involved in something like this? Was she connected to John Wilkins’ death? Or was this a misunderstanding?
He sighed as he took a picture of the paper and also made a photocopy of it, then went to his room to get some rest.
The pleasant evening had taken a dark turn, leaving him with more questions than answers.
The case had just become a lot more complicated, and Olivia was now some how at the center of it.
Or not?
Pushing that aside he decided to get into bed to sleep a bit, it was already past 11pm.
And he needed to check out that location the IP address led to.
Jack sighed. Tomorrow was going to be a stressful day. That's the life of a detective.
All days are stressful.
…
Jack awoke to the sound of rustling. His eyes snapped open, the dim glow of his bedside clock reading 3:00 AM.
What could be making that sound?
He laid still for a moment, listening intently. There it was again—faint but unmistakable. Someone was in his house.
He slid out of his bed, his muscles were tense, he moved quietly down the hallway.
The sound was coming from the kitchen. Jack's heart beat picked up as he approached,his senses on high alert.
Grabbing a baseball club from the corner, he silently moved.
He peered around the corner and saw a figure clad in black clothes consisting of a hoodie and black sweats hunched over the waste bin, rummaging through its contents.
What?
"What are you doing?" Jack called out, and turned on the kitchen light.
The figure gasped, the sound of the voice distinctly female. Jack took a step forward, but before he could reach her, she bolted.
Shit.
The kitchen's back door swung open, the lock clearly tampered with. Jack sprinted after her, but she was already halfway down the yard, her form already disappearing into the shadows.
Knowing he couldnf catch her, he walked back to the house. He reached the door, frustration written all over him.
The kitchen was scattered, the trash scattered across the floor. Jack's mind raced.
Who was she? And what was she looking for? Could that be Olivia looking for her wallet?
He stood there for a moment, his heart pounding, before carefully closing the door and locking it with the other set of locks.
Jack needed to figure out what was going on, and quickly. He went about the house double locking all the doors and windows.
After making sure they were all locked, he went back to his room and plopped himself back on the bed.
What's going on?
- Writer
