Chapter 37 #2
I flip through the pages more quickly now, scanning every word. The stalker’s methods match mine almost step by step. Psychological pressure. Isolation. Fear used like a tool.
The file states that Mily eventually moved away in an attempt to escape him. But the final page is clear. The case remains unsolved. No suspect identified. No arrest made.
A strange mix of emotions rises inside me. Part of me feels a strange comfort. Proof that I am not imagining this. That someone else went through the same thing. But the larger part of me feels something darker. If it is the same man, then he has done this before. And he got away with it.
I close the file slowly and set it aside, trying to gather myself. I cannot ignore my work completely. I still need to bring Hazel the files she asked for. I collect the politician’s records carefully, stacking them in my arms. My hands are shaking slightly as I carry them upstairs.
When I reach Hazel’s desk, she looks up immediately.
"Did you find everything?" She asks.
"Yes." I reply, placing the stack in front of her. "These are the files on his past allegations. I also found some older reports that may help with cross-checking the financial details."
She flips through the top folder quickly, nodding. "This is exactly what we needed. Thank you. It saves us a lot of time."
"If there’s anything missing, let me know." I say.
"I will." She answers. "For now, this should keep us moving. I appreciate you handling it so quickly."
I nod and step away, returning to my desk. But my attention is no longer on the corruption case. The stalking file feels like it is calling to me. After making sure no one is watching too closely, I open it again quietly.
This time, I read every statement more carefully. The anonymous messages Mily received described private details of her life. Her written statement describes constant paranoia. She began suspecting everyone around her. She stopped trusting friends. She felt watched even when she was alone.
It is like reading my own diary.
A small, fragile sense of hope begins to grow. If there is a pattern, maybe there is also a weakness. But fear follows that thought quickly. A man who has done this before knows how to stay invisible.
At the back of the file, I find her contact information. Phone number. Last known address. It feels strange to see it printed so plainly.
Without thinking too long, I take out my phone and save her number. My fingers move quickly, driven by urgency. She might understand. She might know something that could help me.
I close the file and slip it into my bag for now. I know I should return it properly later, but I cannot let it go yet.
When lunch break arrives, I step outside the building and walk to a quiet cafe away from the noise. My heart is pounding as I dial her number.
The phone rings several times before someone answers.
"Hello?" The voice is careful, cautious.
"Hi." I say, trying to keep my tone calm. "Is this Mily?"
"Yes. Who’s calling?"
"My name is Iris Whitlock. I work at The Daily Chronicles. I came across your old case file while researching something. I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but the details in your case were very similar to something I’m experiencing right now.
I wanted to ask if you would be willing to speak with me. "
Silence stretches between us. I can hear faint background noise on her end, then nothing.
"How did you get this number?" She asks, her tone tightening.
"It was listed in the archived report." I explain quickly. "I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I wouldn’t have called if it didn’t feel urgent. I just… I didn’t know who else to reach out to."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"What do you mean, similar?" She asks at last, her voice more controlled now.
"I’ve been receiving anonymous messages." I say. My grip tightens around the phone. "They reference personal details. My schedule. Private moments. There have also been rumors spread about me at work. It feels deliberate. Like someone is slowly trying to isolate me."
She doesn’t respond right away.
"You’re saying you have a stalker?" She asks quietly.
"Yes." I admit. "And the methods match what was described in your case. The messages. The manipulation. Even the psychological pressure."
Her breathing shifts slightly. "That file was years ago."
"I know." I say softly. "But the pattern feels too specific to ignore."
She lets out a slow breath. "I don’t talk about that period of my life anymore."
"I understand." I say quickly. "I really do. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. But I’m scared. And when I read what happened to you, it felt like reading my own future if I don’t do something. I don’t know who else would understand."
"You should go to the police." She replies automatically.
"I have." I say. "But they dismissed me."
There is another long silence. I can almost feel her debating whether to end the call.
"I spent months trying to forget." She says finally, her voice lower now. "It took me a long time to feel safe again. Talking about it brings everything back."
"I’m not asking you to relive it alone." I say, my voice softer now. "I just need perspective. Even if it’s just advice. Did he escalate suddenly? Did he slip up? Anything you remember could help me protect myself."
She doesn’t answer immediately.
"I don’t want to discuss this over the phone." She says after a while. "It’s not something I feel comfortable explaining like this."
"I can meet you somewhere." I offer quickly. "A public place. Wherever you feel safe. I’ll come to you."
There’s hesitation in her next breath.
"I don’t go into the city much anymore." She says. "I moved away for a reason."
"I’ll travel." I say without thinking. "Distance doesn’t matter."
"You don’t even know where I live." She replies quietly.
"Then tell me." I say. "Please."
Her silence this time feels heavier. I start to worry I have pushed too far.
"You really believe it could be the same person?" She asks slowly.
"Yes." I whisper. "Or someone who learned from him. Either way, I need to understand what I’m dealing with."
Another pause. Then, "If I agree to meet you," she says carefully, "it won’t be in a crowded cafe."
"That’s fine."
"It will be here." She continues. "I live in the countryside now. It’s quiet. Fewer people. I feel safer here."
I hesitate only for a second. "I’ll come."
She exhales softly, as if she has made a difficult decision.
"Alright." She says. "Write this down."
I grab a pen from my purse, my heart pounding.
"17 Willow Creek Lane." She says slowly. "Ravenwood Hollow. It’s about forty minutes outside the city, past Briarfield. There’s only one road leading in. You won’t miss it."
I write every word carefully.
"This Saturday." She adds. "Come around two in the afternoon. And don’t tell anyone where you’re going."
A chill moves down my spine at that last part.
"I won’t." I say quietly. "Thank you. I know this isn’t easy."
"We’ll see." She replies. "Just… be careful on your way here."
The call ends.
I stand there for a moment, staring at my phone. For the first time in days, I feel something different mixed in with the fear. It is small, but it is there. A sense of possibility.
The rest of the afternoon passes slowly. I complete my tasks, respond to emails, update drafts. On the surface, everything appears normal. But my thoughts keep drifting to Mily. To what she might tell me.
When my shift finally ends, I leave the building. I remain alert as always, scanning my surroundings. But beneath the fear, there is now something else, a quiet determination. I’m no longer completely in the dark.