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"Ａｌｒｉｇｈｔ Mr. Kingston, that's all for tonight. Thank you for your cooperation." Mr. Roberts, the police deputy chief said.

That's it?

Bryson who was sitting across from the middle-aged man clasps his hands together. He ponders whether to ask some questions or not. Or if he was even allowed to, but regardless if he was not in the right position to query, nothing could really stop him from getting the answers that were killing him.

He started with, "Do you have any lead about the whereabouts of that man?" The distaste on his voice was evident, but Mr. Roberts just looked at him flatly.

Silence.

That wasn't the response he was hoping for. Thinking he wasn't getting any reply, he tried a different one, "Was my description of him enough? I know it wasn't distinct, but you can already guess what he looks like, right? What about his location? I think you should look for any CCTV I —,"

"We've done it already, Mr. Kingston.
And yes, all the things you had said might helps us to finish the investigation in a nick of time. Together with your statement and the other witnesses, I can say, it's reliable information," the officer answered briefly.

And then another excruciating absence of noise.

Bryson fought back the urge to demand more. The man in front of him might be a playful and chatty person when they first met, but as of the moment, he was nothing but an impassive public servant that only replied what you wanted to hear.

Nothing more and less information.

He pulled the dog tag dangling on his neck and twirled it using his fingers as his knees started to bounce up and down, one of his occasional mannerisms whenever he feel agitated or simply bored.

His eyes zoomed in at the plaque mounted on the wall behind the deputy's mahogany desk, together with recognization and award letter in a frame.

Seeing he has no plan of leaving the chilly room even if they've already consumed an hour in the police station for the interrogation, Mr. Roberts sighed as if he was already expecting him to intervene in their job no matter what the consequences were or even if they'd stop him.

"Actually," Mr. Roberts break the ice. "There's one more thing I needed to ask of you," Bryson looked at the officer with furrowed brows and straightened his back.

He was getting impatient because of not obtaining the adequate answer that'd appease his concern and to sums it all up, the information he had just found out a while ago still bothers him. 

A relative of Daisy that he knew nothing about and it was also infuriating that they only showed up just because his flower was currently confined in a goddamn hospital.

Their sudden appearance didn't sit well with him, more so, that man who claimed himself as Daisy's family is someone he isn't sure to be trusted.

No. That wasn't the right term.

He just couldn't believe that such an important person is related to his girlfriend.

A tap on the table interrupted him and Mr. Roberts had an impatient looked on his aging face.

As if being caught while doing a bad deed, he bit his lower lip and fiddled his fingers.

"What is it officer?" he asked.

Mr. Roberts open the folder in front of them and read something on it before sliding the thin material over the table.

He eyed the thing skeptically.

Was this folder contains the answers to my questions?

Bryson skimmed the sharp edges then opened them to reveal what was inside.

It was a photograph. A blurred image of a man wearing a black shirt and baseball cap. The person in the photo was facing his back on the camera, it was excerpted from CCTV footage based on the quality.

"Looks familiar, right?" Mr. Roberts asked, folding his arms against his chest. Bryson never leaves his eyes on the photo, burning the image in his memory and trying to control the rage that was slowly surfacing inside of him.

It was almost close to a breaking point.

"The footage was taken from a CCTV camera across the street where the flower shop is located. Luckily, the device was working that time and so it captured the possible suspect of the shooting incident. We couldn't ask the victim itself because she's still unconscious and that leads us to you," Mr. Roberts stared at him as if he was trying to read what was going on in his mind.

He picked up the photo and looked at it closely. The man in the picture was almost engulfed by the darkness if not for the lamp post next to it.

It was also vague to confirm what he looks like because only his back was visible and that wasn't enough visual either.

The man's back was like any of those in a sea of thousand's people who reside in the town so it was really hard to tell the difference.

"I've already given my description of him based on what I can remember when I saw him and how can I identify his face if all I'm seeing is his back? So, What's this all about?" He scoffed.

It's not like he wasn't grateful for the efforts they've put into their job just to give Daisy the justice she deserves, but everything was taking a toll on him too.

Anger and guilt are alarming emotions that quarrels within him. Gradually, this will arouse his short patience which he tried to extend for the sake of his loved ones, but his momentum is about break, and that what he avoids the most.

"I understand, but why don't you look at the other page?"

He was pulled back from his train of thoughts when the officer spoke. Bryson gave him a short glance then carefully skimmed the piece of paper to the next page.

More than five photos greeted him. He scowled upon seeing that all of it was just the same.

No.

One was vivid enough because of the light coming from the sun, the other was surrounded by orange and yellow as if it had been taken just where the sun was about to set.

Different settings but the entity on it was the same person, dressed in different clothes in each photo.

It was obviously shot at different times and days.

What the fuck?

"What the hell is this?" He was appalled and bewildered by the disturbing images.

"That person is under suspicion because of his questionable behavior and the CCTV footage is the best proof we have right now," Mr. Roberts crossed his elbows on the table as he leaned his upper body on it.

"You see, I'm giving you the chance to be part of this investigation by providing us some evidence that will pin down that person of the crime he committed."

"I don't—," he paused then lick his lower lip. "What do you mean officer?"

"Of course I will not hold you accountable if worse comes to worst, but I believe you're the only person that could really help us."

Helps?

Evidence?

Weird images?

All of these were like riddles he must solve and it was not a game he was fond of.

Why does he need to detour the topic and just go straight to the point?

"What helps do you need from me?" He asked after a while, he wasn't really sure what they needed from him nor if he can do it, but perhaps, that's what he was waiting for all along. To provide his service and be the one that will catch that son of a bitch.

"Do you know why I showed up to you those pictures and what does it entail in our investigation?"

He shook his head because honestly, everything was just so confusing to him, and apart from that, he can only take one piece of information at a time.

His head was pounding nonstop because of the stress, but he endures it just to get to the finish line and resolves the issue evolving in the mysterious life of Daisy.

"We have a theory that what happened to Ms. Swales was all planned by one person who we suspect to be the one in that photos. We gather all the footages we could collect from the CCTV camera scattered everywhere in town and that specific place," Mr.Roberts points the carbon material in Bryson's hands. "That spot facing the street where the flower shop is is the only place where the suspect was frequent. We can say, that maybe it was just a coincidence, but no if you watch the footage, he seems to like hanging out in that street more than in his house seeing he was dilly-dallying there every single day for the past few weeks. And do you have any idea why that man was always in that certain area?"

The officer inquired but it was not a question that needed some answer, rather an assertion of a plausible theory he wanted to reach out to him in which Bryson doesn't realize if not being served to him in a silver platter.

Goosebumps traveled from his arms up to his nape like being bathed in a cold bucket of ice, leaving him in a heap of paralyzation in which his muscles refuse to follow his command.

He was speechless.

Bryson felt as if he had been slapped by the fact that if Daisy's life had not been endangered, he still had no idea, knowing that someone wanted to hurt her.

No.

He had speculation but he chose to ignore it. How stupid can he be?

Fuck! Fuck!

Seeing that he wasn't capable of using his vocal chord to produce even a single word, Mr. Roberts nodded his head understandingly and leaned his back on the swivel chair.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking and that's what was our suppositions too. No, it's not a theory anymore just based on the shreds of evidence we have. It's a stalking crime act, Mr. Kingston. That man was stalking Ms. Swales for the last month and we've come up to a definite judgment that he was all along just waiting for the perfect timing where Daisy was alone to execute his plan. And he finally carried it out tonight after watching from the sideline for consecutive days."

A stalker.

A fucking stalker who he wasn't aware of.

Great. Just fucking great!

Since the time he oaths to himself to always drove his girlfriend to her home, to always get in her side at any given chance which in his case, all the time. Every single day and night, he didn't even notice that some psycho was always watching and lurking behind their shadows.

No. He was only watching Daisy.

What the actual fuck?

"Even before the crime took place, we believe that he tried to approach Daisy at some point or gave a hint of his presence, but he always failed given the fact that you were always with her or if not, she was always in the shop with the owner. Frustrated, he may have come up with other tactics." The officer keeps on talking but Bryson couldn't still process in his distraught mind the sudden turned of events.

He thought it was just like a robbery incident or something.

But he was so wrong, it was more than that. A full-out wicked plan with one objective, to scare Daisy and hurt her in the end.

"Based on the previous case we had conducted. There is a different kind of stalker, but all of them have a common pattern when it comes to stalking. First, they search their victims' information, including their whereabouts and the places they always visit. Second, they observe her/him and memorize their every move, who they are always socializing with, and so on. Third, they'd attempt to approach them, acting as a friendly neighbor, and fourth, for better or worse, even if they remain as nothing but just another passing stranger, they will still proceed to set their initial motive into motion."

"They will either force their way in their victims' lives by being persistent or kidnap them. In the most dangerous or worst-case scenario, they have no choice but to commit violence."

He wanted the officer to just stop talking but the other side of him wanted to hear everything. There was like a static rally going on inside his ears. And there was only one word those voices keep on shouting.

Stalker.

"When we captured a rapist and murderer who also stalked the deceased, he stated when we arrested him that if he can't have his victim then no one else's can and that he left no choice but to kill her. I'm sure that's also what was running through the suspect's mind when he pointed the gun at Ms. Swales before pulling the trigger. But before the incident happened, he may have left a letter on her doorstep or sent her a message or gift, anything that will make him visible in Ms. Swales' perspective."

"And the thing is, that's what we're looking for. A solid proof, visual evidence asides from the footage that will back up our assumptions. Since the stalking happened just before you started going out with Ms. Swales, do you know or have any idea if she experienced those I've mentioned or if she received such unusual things?"

Bryson's hands voluntarily closed into a fist. His knuckles were becoming white, the veins in his arms were protruding, and his nails dug into his palms that it was most likely gonna leave a mark.

The temperature he was trying to maintain at a normal level finally rises to the maximum point.

When was the last time he encouraged that noxious idea in his mind?

Ah. It was a year ago when he almost got into jail and ruin his messed-up life altogether.

"Yes, officer. I think I may have the proof you're looking for." He answered in a clipped tone. Throwing daggers at the marble plate on the table— bearing information about the deputy's name and position.

A proof. Right.

He was already jutting down in his mind a malevolent plan he'll going to execute to make that man pay for what he did to his girl.

No one can hurt his loved ones without paying and he will make sure that there was a hell of charges to pay.

"I don't mean to pressure you but we need to capture the suspect as soon as possible. He's a very dangerous person that's on the run and he might show himself up again for his unfinished business."

Bryson's head perked upon hearing the last words.

"Unfinished business? Is that what you think about what happened to Daisy? A fucking unfinished business!?" He shouted, finally letting out the pent-up anger that was running on in his veins. Not caring if he was being disrespectful in the presence of a professional.

"You know that's not what I mean."

Still fuming mad, he keeps on clenching and unclenching his jaw. Burning a hole in the officer's face while keeping himself at bay before he snaps and flips everything inside the office upside down.

I'm gonna fucking kill that man. I will kill him.

Mr. Roberts gave him a knowing look as if sensing the hideous scheme he was up to, he pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, "I apologize for what I've said and I know what's running inside your head right now, Bryson."

"I may have been appointed just a couple of months ago, but I know what reputation you had in this small town. I also know what was the problem you've had got into yourself in the past. It was not a pretty history you'd want to reminisce, but I'm aware of all that. Who do you think backed up your father to get you out of that mess?"

What the hell was he talking about? And how did they end up on that kind of topic?

"You're quite a troublemaker, Bryson and  as a good friend of your father, I'd like to give you a piece of advice."

"What the fuck is all of this about officer?" He asked, not liking where the conversation was heading.

If he starts preaching now like a pastor that he wasn't then save it for himself.  Bryson hardened his face as he waits for his reasonable response.

"Lay low and don't put the law into your hands. Let us do our job and all you have to do is to wait and be with your girlfriend. That's all I'm saying."

Pulling the strands of his hair, he laughed lowly before standing up abruptly, knocking down the chair in the process.

Fuck his job for all I care. He doesn't know anything about me.

Without saying anything in return, he headed toward the door and was about to twists the doorknob when Mr. Roberts spoke again.

"Give me a call once you have the things I expect from you."

An impish grin formed on his lips as he turned around to face the middle-aged man, "Right, but let me give you a piece of advice too. Don't stick your nose into my business and just do your honorable job, officer."

Bryson slammed the door shut and walked out of the police station.

A cold passing wind greeted him outside but he didn't care because compared to the frigid temperature of the night, his boiling blood was already enough to materialize it.

Curling his hand in a tight fist and clenching his jaws. You can almost see the steam coming out in his mouth and nose like an animated raging bull just by how mad he was at the moment.

"How was it?"

His brother asked when he entered the car.

Oh right. He almost forgot.

Elijah insisted on going with him earlier when he returned to their house to clean himself up and change his clothes as per his mother's stern command even though he tried to defy her because he wanted to stay by Daisy's side until she wakes up.

Asides from that, he also had to go to the police station to give his statement about the incident so instead of driving straight to the hospital— there he is, inside his car, laying his forehead on the steering wheel while clutching it in a death grip.

"Stop pestering me now Elijah," he answered in a muffled voice.

"I just want—"

"Fucking Christ! Are you fucking deaf?" He doesn't mean to blow his fuse in front of his brother, but he had enough of bullshits for the night.

"I'm sorry man," Elijah whispered.

He sighed, "Just— just don—"

A ringing of the phone cut him off. He gives Elijah one last warning glance before digging the device in his jeans pocket. Upon checking the caller ID, he immediately pressed the accept button.

"Mom?"

There were distant noises on the other line as if there was a commotion going on. Annie took a while to answer and maybe God hasn't totally abandoned him yet because what he had been praying for finally came to light.

"Honey, come back here quickly. She woke up, but—" There was a hesitation in her voice but Bryson didn't pay attention to it as the only thing that registered in his mind was the good news about his flower.

He can finally see her pretty eyes again, her charming smile, and her cheerful way of communicating with him by the fluid and graceful strokes of her hands.

"Just come back here and drive safely hun."

"I'm on my way mom."

The call hung up and without further adieu, he started the engine and drove off.

Forget the traffic lights, the speed limit, his temperamental self nor the nervous glimpse his brother was giving him.

His baby is awake now and that's all that matters to him.

His world will start revolving again.

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