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I
think there are two types of people in the world: people who daydream and people who have nightmares. I refuse to believe there is any other possibility than this. I belong, unfortunately, to the latter group. It is safe to say that the nightmares seem to be persisting more than I thought they would. In my recent dreams, I am always running while something burns down behind me. What burns down is always different.
Sometimes it is the house I grew up in; sometimes, it is my old apartment; sometimes, it is Mrs. Waltham's house; sometimes, it is even Nathan's house; and sometimes, it is the hospital room. I am always running from the ashes. When I wake up, I always think about why I would be running away from the ashes. The ashes are the last of what remains of the structure I loved; should I not run toward it?
After careful consideration, I realized I was running away to save myself from the reality of the loss of these places. I was not running away from what I loved, but I was running away from what could hurt me. It is quite ironic that the things that make us the happiest often turn out to be things we run away from to save ourselves from irreparable damage.
“We traced the number that Anthony got a call from to a burner phone.” I was a bit confused when I heard Detective Ocon say that. "May I ask what a burner phone is?" "A burner phone is often cheap and pre-paid.
It can be used by criminals to avoid detection of their location by law enforcement authorities, but it can also be used by people for privacy purposes." "How would a criminal evade law enforcement via a burner phone?" "First of all, most of them buy burner phones with cash, so there is no proof of the transaction and no paper trail that may lead to them.
Second, your personal phone can reveal your identity since it is registered under your name, but that is not the case with a burner phone. However, even burner phones cannot offer one with complete anonymity." "What do you mean?" "For starters, location can also be traced through a burner phone. It is highly unlikely that a criminal who uses a burner phone in a certain location will remain in that location after usage.
But there is always the chance of someone having seen their face. What we will do now is trace the location from where the call was made. Once we know the location, we will send in a team to scout the area for stores that sell burner phones. Of course, there is always the possibility that the criminal bought the burner phone from another place and then used it somewhere else to avoid detection, but we cannot forgo the possibility until there is a certain affirmative of its existence.
Hopefully, if she bought the phone from one of the local stores, we will get the cashier or the owner or one of the workers to the sketch artist and have a sketch made of her, so we have some kind of facial recognition." Then, Detective Ocon looked up from a piece of paper he held in his hand and said, “Can you contact Anthony again?”
A little taken aback by his request, I asked him, “Yeah, of course. But why do you need me to contact him?” Detective Ocon put down the piece of paper as he began to pace around the briefing room. "I have been thinking; if she has called Anthony once, she might do it again. Another possibility is that she gave Anthony some way of contacting her if he acquires the information she needs. Otherwise, it would not make sense to call Anthony, of all people." I thought about what he said, but something felt off. "Sir, with all due respect, why would she leave Anthony with something that can lead us back to her? She obviously knows about where he lives, and if, by any chance, she is still surveilling the area, then she knows Anthony is in contact with the police.
So, knowing that, why would she willingly leave a trail?" Detective Ocon’s pacing became more deliberate with smaller steps as he thought about what I had said. Before Detective Ocon can express his thoughts, Max chimes in. “Sir, what if she wants a trail that leads us to her, a connection?” Detective Ocon gave her an extremely perplexed look. ‘Why on earth would she do that?” Max leaned back into her chair as if relaxing into her own thoughts.
"Well, think about it. She has no way of knowing Victoria's location because Victoria is constantly under surveillance. What if she is trying to draw us out so we would drop a clue? What if she wants a trail in order to reach Victoria, and she only wants us to act as a bridge for it?" What Max just said made sense. “I think she might be right,” I said to Detective Ocon.
He nodded his head and seemed like he was muttering something to himself as well. "Max, your theory is plausible. Victoria, you should call Anthony and ask if she left him in any way to contact her. If she did, then Max's theory might just prove to be correct." I immediately picked up my phone and dialed Anthony's number.
My body was buzzing with a kind of nervous tension I had not felt in a long time. Ring, ring, ring... “Hello?” He picked up! Detective Ocon motioned for me to put the phone on speaker as he and Max huddled around me as if forming a circle. "Hey Anthony, it is me, Victoria. Just wanted to check up on you and Mrs. Waltham again. How are you guys doing? Any suspicious activity?” “Oh, hey, Vic! Everything is fine on our end. Mom did get suspicious yesterday about the officers, but I told her they were my friends, so it is all good now." I heard his voice becoming muffled due to connection errors.
“One more thing, did you get any strange calls again? Or did she leave you a way to contact her again in case you got my address?” I waited for his reply with anticipation, and I could feel Detective Ocon holding his breath as well. “Well, she did not leave me anything with which I would be able to contact her again.” I could feel the disappointment settling in like a boulder in the pit of my stomach. “But she did say she would contact me again.” I released a breath I did not know I was holding. "And did she?" "I am not too sure. I did receive a call from an unknown number yesterday, but I was busy, and my phone was on silent, so I did not realize it was ringing.
When I tried calling again, it said the number was powered off." From the corner of my eye, I could see Max giving Detective Ocon a knowing smile. Detective Ocon then took the phone from me and began to speak. “Anthony, this is Detective Ocon. I was with Ms. Frietz the night we came to your house.” A pause. "Hello, Detective Ocon; how are you?" "I am great. Listen, Anthony, I want you to do something. I want you to keep a uniformed officer with you in plain clothes and have him or her call us whenever you receive another call. We will handle it from there. Can you do that?" "Of course." "Great, I will assign someone to you right away.
They will arrive at your door. Thank you, Anthony; you have no idea how much closer your service can get us to the killer." As soon as the call was over, I voiced my fear to Detective Ocon. “Sir, what if we are endangering Anthony by making him a part of this? I do not like that.” Max shook her head at my statement. “Victoria, they are already in danger of knowing you. Besides, the officer is there more for their protection than anything else. Nothing will happen to him.”
After a while, I asked him another question. “Sir, if Max’s theory is correct, are we not playing right into her hands?” This time, Detective Ocon shook his head and gave me a small smile. "No. No such thing will happen. We have a plan in place. All we need to do is get her to show up somewhere. That is where Anthony comes in handy because none of us have any direct contact with her.
Once we lure her out somewhere, even if we do not catch her right there and then, we will have definitive confirmation of the person we are looking for. That is something we desperately need right now."
She has not called. It has been two days since we formulated the plan with Anthony, but she has not called. Did she figure out what we were doing? How is that possible? I knew I was overthinking, but I could not help it. I was worried. This plan included someone I did not want to risk. All I did the past few days was think of the things that could go wrong. Even my nightmares have changed.
I am at Mrs. Waltham's. Is it really me? I feel awfully small. I see a young boy running toward me. Who is that? Upon closer inspection, I realized he was not so much running as he was floating. Am I dreaming again? I guess, yeah. I looked up to see a clear blue sky. The sky was so clear that I knew if I got close enough, I would be able to see my reflection in it.
I tried to refocus my attention on the floating boy. He looked familiar, yet I could not place him in my mind. Who is that? “Vic!!!” He yelled. That is when I realized that is young Anthony. Of course, it is young Anthony! That is when I also realized I am young too. This is why I felt small. I turned around to observe Mrs. Waltham's house while young Anthony ran towards me in his jean shorts and red Flash T-shirt.
It looked just as I remembered it. Same walls, same door, same hedges leading to the main door, but something feels different. I look at the house more closely. The colors were all weird. It looked like the entire house had been carved out of candy. I moved toward the house to touch its surface to confirm my suspicion. Just as my fingertips began to hover in the air, moving toward the house, I heard a scream behind me. I whipped around as quickly as I could and saw that young Anthony had tripped. I immediately began to run toward him.
But no matter how hard I ran, I could not close the distance between us. I looked at him desperately and realized he did not trip, and he had been pushed. And now, he was being pulled against his will by someone behind him. All I could hear were his screams. I ran, and I ran, but the distance between us kept growing as he was pulled away.
He was no longer floating. He was now digging his fingernails in the ground in an attempt to save himself. The sky overhead has turned a dark gray to resonate with the situation. There were small spots of blood in places where he had dug his fingernails. “Vic!! HELP ME!!! She will take me away! I do not want to go!!!” Suddenly, the scene changed. We were both adults now. He was standing in front of me in the clothes I had last seen him in. He looked at me, a furious expression adorning his face.
Blood was dripping down his forehead. I tried to reach out and touch him and wipe the blood, but he yanked himself out of my reach. “Why did you do it?” he asked me. What did I do? "You knew she would come for me; you still put me in danger." Someone, please wake me up. “Now look, look at the consequences of your own actions. I died because of you.” I tried to tell him I did not do anything, to beg him for forgiveness. But he turned around and walked away from me. “Wake up!” I heard someone’s voice in the distance. No, no, I cannot wake up. He is walking away. I have to catch up to him. Everything was shaking. Is it an earthquake? "WAKE UP, VICTORIA!!!"
I immediately sat up in my bed. Max was standing over me in her purple pajamas with a worried look on her face. Her long hair was cascading down her back as she observed my facial expression. "Victoria, are you okay? You kept screaming and apologizing. When I came in, you were also crying in your sleep." My heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour. I touched my forehead, just to find it ice cold.
But I had been sweating so profusely that my bed sheet was soaked, and so were my pajamas. I was breathing as if I had just run a marathon. I tried to calm myself down before answering Max. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. “Max, it was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep. Everything is fine.” I knew Max did not believe my reassurance. She looked skeptical at my disheveled state with the soaked pajamas and strewn about hair. “If you want, I can sleep here tonight. Just say the word.” I shook my head. I could not possibly inconvenience her more than I already had. "No, Max. It is fine. It really is. It was just a bad dream. You should go back to sleep.
You know I would wake you up if something happened." With reluctance, she nodded her head and proceeded to walk out the door, closing it on her way out. “Max, could you just leave the door open for tonight?” I called out to her. I do not know why, but the closed door was making me restless and anxious. Without inquiring any further, Max opened the door and left. The dream felt so real at the end. I really felt like I was losing Anthony.
The next day, I could tell Max was still on edge about last night. I knew because of the side glances she kept giving me. I knew she wanted to ask me about the dream. At first, I was scared she would ask me about it. I was on edge because of it. It is also possible that I was on edge because of the lack of sleep. I was growing tired of her side glances, so I confronted her. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like I am an enraged animal in a cage who will blow up and throw a tantrum in case something pisses her off.” Max grew quiet at that and averted her gaze to the ground. “Victoria, I did not mean to offend you. It is just that I am worried about you.
You sounded really scared last night. I got really scared too. I just want to make sure you are okay." I sighed at her answer. It was valid. If I was in her position, I would be worried too. "Max, listen to me. I am scared. Not for myself as much as for people I love. I mean, yeah, obviously, I am scared for myself. But my biggest fear is someone dying because of me. Last night....... I dreamt that Anthony had died. He was blaming me. He was asking me why I knowingly put him in danger. The look in his eyes was haunting. I know it was just a dream, but it felt so real."
Max had finally stopped looking at the ground and was now looking at me. Then, she did something unexpected. She walked toward me, reached out, and wrapped her arms around me. She was hugging me. It had been a long time since someone had hugged me this sincerely. I wanted to break apart right there in her arms. Instead, I just wrapped my own arms around her, relishing the moment. "I cannot guarantee the future. But what I can guarantee is that we will do our very best to protect you and the people you love. It is our job, after all," she whispered in my ear.
We stood like that for ten more seconds before she pulled away. I had not realized I was crying till she ran her thumb across my cheek to wipe a stray tear. I knew I was going to feel embarrassed about this later, but right now, I did not care. The moment was too special.
After breakfast, I got a call from Nathan saying he wanted to see me in his office. He never calls me to his office. Now I was worried. Did I do something wrong? Is it possible he was mad at me? I shook my thoughts out of my head as I headed out with Max for Nathan's office. It was weird, but I did not notice Max's presence that much anymore.
At the start, having her around all the time made me self-conscious. I would watch my every move when she was around. But now, she even felt like a part of me. I was so used to having her around that it had begun to feel normal. Now that I think about it, I am not sure how I will adjust when she eventually leaves and I start living alone again.
We enter Nathan’s office and approach the reception desk. “Hi, we are here to see Nathan. Can you inform him that Ms. Frietz is here?” I asked the receptionist. She nodded her head and said, “I will inform him of your arrival. Meanwhile, please be seated in the reception area.” She first led us to the reception area and then walked towards Nathan’s office. We had barely sat down when she came back out again and said, “He is expecting you inside. Kindly follow me.” We entered Nathan’s plush office to see him sitting in his leather office chair and typing something on his computer.
His office had an exquisite white marble with dark wooden furniture and a huge glass window overlooking the city. “Thank you, Natalia. You may leave now,” he said without looking up. It had been so long since I had dealt with Nathan professionally that I had forgotten how intimidating he could be. He waited for Natalia, his secretary, to leave before he finally looked up from his computer and caught my eye.
Without saying anything, he got up and sat down in front of us on the black leather sofas. “Victoria, have you had any contact with Taylor or Annette?” The question took me by surprise. "No. The last time I heard from Annette was before Max, and I went to my house." He gave a small nod with a grave expression on his face. He was making me worried. “Why? Is something wrong? Is Annette in danger?” I saw him catching Max's eye, and both of them looked like they had a silent argument telepathically.
I looked between both of them, but neither said anything. “Is anyone going to tell me just what the hell is happening? I am freaking out here!” I could see that both of them got startled by my outburst. “Victoria, do you fully trust Annette and Taylor?” Why was Max asking me such questions? It does not make any sense. “I do not know about Taylor, but I do trust Annette.” Nathan nodded his head at my statement. “Why?” “Annette has been quite off the radar for a while. That is why I asked.” Is Nathan lying to me? True, Annette has been off the radar.
I have not had any contact with her at all either. But that does not raise the question of trust. I decided not to probe any further. A part of me was scared that we would indulge ourselves in a conversation I did not want to have. “So, why did you call me here?”
I addressed my question to Nathan, who looked to be in deep thought. “You asked me to oversee the handling of property under Taylor. She has quite some stuff under her name. This much property cannot be built with the salary of a worker in a psychiatric facility. I am interested in finding out how she got this much money.” A while ago, I had asked Nathan to investigate some stuff about Taylor. She is suspicious, and something about her just does not sit well with me. This property thing was definitely something worth looking into.
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