8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
J amie leans close enough to feel like he’s part of my breath. I tell him to stop crowding, but I don’t mean it; there’s something comforting about having someone in this with me, our eyes blurring to fuzz as the black-and-white seconds of the security tape tick by. I’m tense, one leg bouncing, fingers squeezing the bridge of my nose. The scene on the screen is of the shop, peaceful and neat, long stems waiting in their vases, the floors a bright scrubbed sheen.
"How much footage is there, anyway?" Jamie asks, leaning back in his chair. His elbows brush mine. It’s a small room, smaller with both of us crammed into it, cluttered and close.
"More than enough," I say, clicking fast forward on the keyboard. "They’ve given me dates. It won’t take forever."
Jamie sighs, and I’m not sure if it’s because he finds this funny or if he finds it sad. "It could take forever."
"That’s the whole day, Tuesday," I say, as the digital clock rolls on and the file changes over. "They want footage from before that, too."
"That’s a lot of data," Jamie says, and I can feel his knee start to shake, his head move closer to mine. I am impatient and overanxious, and the motion is making me nauseous.
"The more we have to give them, the better," I say. I sound like I believe it, though I’m not sure. "We need to find them something useful."
"Reeves was a real charmer," Jamie says, a note of sarcasm curling his voice. "What do they want this footage for? It is just footage showing him here…which we know from the recites. What could they learn from this"
I stiffen at the thought of him, the sharp line of his mouth, the arrogance. "Who knows? Maybe they think it’ll show something only they can see.”
"Everything looks fine," I say. The stillness on the screen grows menacing.
"You don’t think they know already, do you?" Jamie says. He watches me like I have the answers. "Like, they’re testing you or something? Seeing what you’ll find?"
"I don’t think it’s that kind of test," I say. "If they knew, they wouldn’t be in such a hurry. They wouldn’t be asking me."
"Should I get out of your hair? Do you want to do this alone?" He asks, blush on his face, “I don’t mean to distract or ask too many questions.”
"Not unless you want to leave," I say, shaking my head. I turn back to the screen and let my face, distant and stretched, flicker back at me in reflection. "I could use the company."
He shrugs. I am not sure if he means he doesn’t mind or if he doesn’t care.
We watch as everything starts to bleed together. Too many pixels, not enough answers. I speed up the time trying to get through it as quickly as I can
"Hang on," Jamie says. His eyes are fixed on the screen, wide. "What’s that?"
Jamie rubs his eyes, leans forward, and tilts his head. "No way," he says, and I watch him grapple with the clip, as if his will can stretch it into a shape that makes sense. But there it is, crisp and certain on the screen. An image. A confirmation. I hold my breath and feel the press of time around us like a force, its lines crashing, colliding, reaching a point of impact.
We watch. The Alpha, Braden Jensen, stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, but there’s something different about him. He isn’t like how we had seen him, scared and desperate. Another figure beside him, a woman, her dark hair falling in straight lines down her back. Her hands are quick as she moves through the shop, looking at the flowers with a smile.
I look from the screen to Jamie. He is wide-eyed and silent, in a state of disbelief, but it’s an electrifying recognition for me. A heady sense that this was bound to happen, that things are moving, ticking, falling into place. My mind races ahead to where this will lead.
"Is that…?" Jamie starts, and I nod before he can finish.
"That’s him," I say.
"Who is she?" Jamie says. I don’t know how to answer. He’s still looking for sense in all of this. I’m marveling at the fact that we’ve found something at all.
"They didn’t mention a woman," he says. "Do you think they don’t know?”
I don’t respond. I’m not so sure of that. We play the clip again, see them enter the shop, see them buy flowers from Jamie, then leave. Jamie tries to bend his thoughts around this new twist, his brows pinched and intent.
“I really don’t remember them.” Jamie muttered as his eyes stayed on the screen, “We have so many customers it is hard to remember them… especially when they are such quick interactions.”
I leaned forward, staring at the woman. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't place it. She moved with confidence, head held high as she conversed with Jamie at the counter. Jensen stood slightly behind her, his posture protective rather than frightened.
"Can you zoom in on her face?" I asked, squinting at the grainy footage.
Jamie clicked a few buttons, and the image enlarged, becoming slightly pixelated but clearer. The woman was in her thirties, attractive in a severe way, with high cheekbones and dark eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.
"Wait," I said suddenly, recognition dawning. "I know her."
Jamie turned to me, eyebrows raised. "You do? Who is she?"
"That's Elise Thompson," I said slowly, memories clicking into place. "She used to come in occasionally, always alone. She is an Omega as well.”
"An Omega?" Jamie frowned. "You're sure?"
"Positive," I nodded, leaning closer to the screen. "She never mentioned anything about an Alpha, though. She'd come in for simple arrangements, baby's breath mostly. Said they reminded her of snow." The memory was clear now that I'd placed her face.
"So Jensen was buying flowers every two weeks, but he's with her here," Jamie said, tapping the screen. "That doesn't make sense if he was buying them for her."
I rewound the footage, watching their interaction again. Something about their body language caught my attention.
"Look at how they move," I murmured. "They're comfortable with each other, but it's not... romantic. More like..."
"Friends?" Jamie suggested.
"So she's not his girlfriend?" Jamie asked, looking confused.
"Not unless their relationship started after she stopped coming in," I said, rewinding the footage slightly to watch their interaction again. "She was a regular for about a year, then just... stopped coming. That was maybe two months ago."
Something didn't add up. The way Jensen stood close to her, protective but not possessive. The easy familiarity between them, yet no obvious romantic gestures.
"Why would Jensen be buying flowers with her, under a fake name after she stopped visiting?" Jamie wondered aloud, echoing my thoughts.
I don't know," I said, watching their body language on screen again. "But I think we need to find out who Elise Thompson is."
I pulled out my phone and quickly typed her name into the search bar. Several results appeared—a LinkedIn profile for an Elise Thompson who worked as a research scientist at Teria Pharmaceuticals, a Facebook page that hadn't been updated in months, and a brief mention in a university newsletter from three years ago.
"Research scientist," I murmured, clicking on the LinkedIn profile. Her professional photo matched the woman in our footage, though her expression was more guarded, her dark hair pulled back into a severe bun. "She works at Teria Pharmaceuticals."
Jamie leaned over my shoulder to look. "That's that big research facility on the edge of town, right? The one with all the security?"
I nodded, scrolling through her profile. "Specializes in neurochemistry and hormone research. Cutting-edge stuff, from the looks of it."
"Hormone research?" Jamie's voice sharpened with interest. "Like, Alpha/Beta/Omega hormones?"
I frowned, scanning her profile more carefully. "It doesn't specify, but... wait." I clicked on a link to a research paper she'd co-authored. The title made my stomach clench: "Neurochemical Inhibitors and Their Effects on Secondary Gender Expression."
"Secondary gender expression," I read aloud, a chill running down my spine. "She's researching something to do with our biology."
I nodded slowly, the pieces starting to align in a way that made my skin crawl. "Teria is known for their suppressant research. They developed that new long-lasting suppressant formula last year—the one that only requires a dose every week days instead of daily"
"You think this has something to do with suppressants?" Jamie asked, glancing back at the frozen image of Jensen and Elise on the screen.
"I don't know," I admitted, "but it can’t be anything good. I went back to the computer and I open the download window, setting it to capture the file. The blue line stretches and swells across the screen. I don’t let myself blink or breathe until it reaches the other side.
“There. This should be what they need. Lets hope we can go back to a normal life after this.” I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I would be sitting here confused over my security camera.