Dear Obsession

Chapter 4 – Something’s Off.

Derek’s POV.

Ryan was still in the bed when I walked back in a second time.

The shift had changed. The hallway was quiet now. He looked up when the door clicked shut, and the color drained out of his face.

“You again?” His voice cracked. “I told you—”

“You didn’t tell me anything.” I stopped at the foot of the bed. “I’ll make this simple. You’re leaving this hospital. You’re leaving the city. And you’re never contacting Iris again. Not a text, not a call, not a message through a friend.”

He swallowed. “You already said that.”

“I’m saying it again so it sticks.” I kept my voice low. “If I hear you came back, if I hear your name anywhere near her, I’ll find you. And next time I won’t stop at a few ribs.”

His hands shook against the sheets. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe. But I’m the reason you’re still breathing.” I tilted my head. “Take whatever they give you and disappear. We understand each other?”

He nodded, fast.

I left without another word.

By morning Ryan Marsh was gone. The nurses said he checked himself out against medical advice. No forwarding address. Nobody heard from him again.

Iris’s POV

Maya had stayed the night and left early for work. I came back from the corner store a little after seven.

The hallway light was on the way she’d left it. The deadbolt turned the same as always. Nothing looked wrong until she stepped into the living room and felt it, something off in the air...

She set her keys down carefully.

The throw pillow on the couch was flipped. The stack of mail on the counter had been shifted an inch to the left. In her bedroom the top drawer of the dresser wasn’t fully closed. The corner of a photograph she’d kept face-down was now face-up.

Someone had been inside.

She stood still for a long time, listening. The building was quiet. No footsteps. No open windows. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of her own heartbeat.

Her father’s voice came back the way it always did when something felt wrong, flat, certain, the way he’d spoken the last time she’d seen him alive.

If anything ever feels off—if the locks change, if things move, if you think you are being watched—you call this number. Don’t wait. Don’t tell anyone else. Just call.

Iris pulled the old business card from the back of her wallet. The paper was soft at the edges. One number, no name.

She dialed.

A man answered on the second ring. “Hayes.” watched

I told him about the apartment. I told him about the black sedan, the curtain, the footsteps that stopped when I looked.

He didn’t interrupt. When she finished he said, “Come in tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. Bring whatever you have.”

That was how she met Victor Hayes – a private investigator.

A black car with tinted windows that never stayed past twenty minutes. A delivery van circling the same block. A motorcycle that showed up whenever she left work after dark.

Most of the plates came back clean. One didn’t.

That’s how he found Derek.

Victor followed him for three nights before he was sure. Derek never got close enough to touch her. He just watched. From across the street. From the shadows by the fire escape. Every time a stranger walked too near her, Derek shifted like a dog on a short leash.

On the fourth night, Derek was standing under a closed café, eyes on Iris’s building, when Victor stepped out of the dark behind him.

“You’ve been following her.”

Derek didn’t turn right away. When he did, the dark and the brim of his cap hid everything but his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Iris Brooke. You’ve been on her for weeks.” Victor kept his hands where Derek could see them. “I took her case. So I’m asking once. Who are you, and what do you want with her?”

Derek’s mouth twitched. “You a cop?”

“Private. Close enough.” Victor took a step closer. “Answer me.”

“I don’t answer to you.”

“You will.”

Derek moved first.

It was fast and ugly. He swung for the throat. Victor blocked it, drove an elbow into his ribs, then locked an arm around his neck and slammed him into the brick wall.

“Talk,” Victor said through his teeth. “Name. Why her. Now.”

Derek’s fingers dug into his wrist. He twisted, used the wall for leverage, and drove a knee under Victor’s ribs. The hold broke. Derek shoved him off, spun, and ran.

“Hey!” Victor chased him to the end of the alley, but the street was empty. Just wet pavement and the sound of his own breathing.

He stood there, fists clenched.

He hadn’t seen the face clearly.

I tasted blood the whole way back to the car.

The investigator had almost had me. I could still feel his arm across my throat. For the first time in months, someone had gotten close.

“Victor Hayes.”

He wasn’t just another face in her life. He was looking for the person who watched her. Looking for me.

I sat in the dark and waited for my pulse to come down. It took longer than it should have.

She was mine to watch. Mine to keep safe. No one else got to stand between us.

Victor had just become a problem I’d have to solve.

Blackwell

The back room of the bar was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.

Salvatore turned a glass slowly between his fingers. “Weeks. And still nothing on Dan’s evidence.”

Milo shrugged. He was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, like the whole thing was a show. “We hit everywhere he used. The apartment, the office, the storage unit. It’s clean.”

“Clean,” Salvatore said. “Or we’re looking in the wrong places.”

Vale hadn’t said a word until now. “Derek’s been busy.”

Salvatore looked at her. “Explain.”

“He’s not on the search.” Vale kept her voice flat. “Three, four nights a week he disappears around ten. Sits in his car outside an apartment building on the east side. Stays for hours.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching. I can’t tell you at what.”

Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. “What building?”

“Don’t know yet. I stayed back so he wouldn’t see me.” Vale hesitated. “Last night something happened. Some guy jumped him in an alley. They fought. Derek ran.”

Milo whistled. “Derek ran? Derek doesn’t run.”

“He ran.”

“From who?”

“No idea. Looked like some private guy. Wasn’t police.” Her jaw tightened. “But Derek came back with blood in his mouth, and he didn’t say a word about it to either of us.”

Milo laughed. “Maybe he’s got a woman up there. Maybe he’s just in love.”

“Derek doesn’t do love,” Vale said.

“Everybody does love. They just do it badly.”

“Enough.” Salvatore set the glass down. The room went still. “I don’t care why he’s sitting outside a building. I care that I gave him a job, and the job isn’t getting done.”

“Want us to pull him off?” Milo asked.

“No. Keep close. I want to know where he goes, who he talks to, and what’s in that building.” Salvatore looked at Vale. “Whatever he’s hiding, I want it before it costs us.”

Vale nodded once. “We’re already on it.”

They left together, the way they always did. Milo talking too much, Vale saying almost nothing. Outside, the street was wet and cold. Milo lit a cigarette and held out the pack.

Vale shook her head.

“You think he’s gone soft?” Milo asked.

“I think he’s lying.” Vale watched the road. “And I don’t trust anyone who lies to Salvatore.”

Milo grinned around the cigarette. “That’s why we make a good team. You assume the worst. I assume everybody just needs a drink.”

Vale didn’t answer.