Bound

Chapter 3

hey guys! here is chapter 3 :) i hope you like it! please comment and/or vote if you do :) it really gives me a boost and the creative juices start to flow :P

by the way, this story got a #265 rank in the non-teen category and #220 in the mystery category! :D i am super excited! but can anyone please tell me on what basis are the ranks decided?? thanks a lot! :D

Chapter 3

“So you are saying that the cameras were down when this incident took place?” Detective O’Conner said, tapping his pen on the notepad. “Can you tell me who all were there in the house when it happened?”

They were currently assembled in the living room. Damon was sitting on the couch with a mug of strong brew in his hand and Samantha stood beside him while Jeremy explained the situation to Detective O’Conner, the man in charge of Damon’s case.  

“Of course; there was Mr. Wilson, Martha, the housekeeper, Mr. Wilson’s new bodyguard-

“Bodyguard?” Detective O’Conner interrupted.

“Yes, Ms. Samantha Osborn,” Jeremy said, gesturing toward Samantha.

“Samantha Osborn, I have heard that name somewhere,” Detective O’Conner mused, staring at her. his eyes widen comically as he made the connection. “You are the Samantha Osborn!”

“I wasn’t aware that my reputation was this wide spread,” Samantha said stiffly. She hated it when people brought up the very past she strived every day to forget.

“Major Harrison is my uncle. He has told me all about you,” Detective O’Conner said, his eyes shining with blind reverence that made Samantha sick in the stomach.

“You were in the military?” Damon asked.

“I think we have a killer on loose over here. I am sure we can discuss my past professions after he is safely behind the bars,” Samantha said ignoring Damon’s question.

Detective O’Conner turned an unattractive shade of red. “Of course. The killer,” he said, looking down at his notes. “We will drop off the note and the dead dog in the forensic lab; though I wouldn’t pin my hopes on finding any clues through them the stalker is too smart to have left his finger prints or DNA. So till then, Mr. Wilson, try and think of a person who you might have offended so much that he is out to get you.”

“Or she,” Samantha corrected. “We don’t have enough evidence to point out the gender of the criminal.”

“I have to go meet Gary’s family,” Damon said, getting up from his chair after Detective O’Conner left. He looked as if he had aged at least five years in the past two hours.

Samantha had almost forgotten what the shock of seeing a dead body, albeit a dog’s felt like. She was too ingrained in the lifestyle to pay attention to such details. Her brain usually skipped over the blood and the gore and started compiling the possible clues.

“I’ll make you something to eat. You haven’t eaten anything since morning,” Martha said.

“It’s okay, Martha. I will just end up puking it out,” Damon said jokingly. But his eyes remained clouded with tension and pain. “Will you please tell Billy to take out the car?”

“Is Billy your usual driver?” Samantha asked as she made her way toward a black Audi with Damon.

“Yeah,” Damon nodded. “He has been driving me around since I was in school.” Damon smiled at the fond memories wondering why things couldn’t stay as uncomplicated as they were when he was little.

“Damon,” Billy greeted, smiling sadly. “I heard what happened. Are you alright?”

“Have you checked the car for possible tampering?” Samantha asked, not giving Damon a chance to reply.

“Tampering?” Billy echoed, his forehead wrinkling. “I never thought of that.”

“Do you checking it out right now?” Samantha’s tone made it clear that it was not a request.

“Not at all. I will have a look right away,” Billy said, scampering off to open the hood of the car.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Damon asked, smiling.

“That’s my job,” Samantha replied.

“Do you ever smile?” Damon asked, getting a little annoyed at the perfectly blank expression on her face. Damon was sure that while he had vomiting his guts out in the bathroom, Samantha had been cool, calm, and collected. Damon wondered what it would take to break that perfect façade. And didn’t that bring some interesting pictures to mind?

“You don’t pay me to smile,” Samantha answered his question which he had forgotten about during his trip to fantasy land; her eyes darting around, taking in their surroundings, looking for possible threats and suspects.

Do not lust after your bodyguard. Damon repeated the mantra to himself. He was starting to feel like the female lead of a rom com movie who meets a gruff, bad-ass man and they eventually fall in love after she makes him halfway human.

Love? Did he just think that? Damn, this stalker slash killer was starting to mess with his brain. Damon rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the thoughts and images swirling in his frontal lobe. And that reminded him that he hadn’t even changed his clothes, not wanting to step inside his bedroom again. Oh well, at least he was halfway decent in trousers and a shirt.

They got in the car after Billy had given them the green signal. To Damon’s complete annoyance, Samantha got in the passenger seat beside Billy. It didn’t matter that she was a bodyguard and that Gary had also never sat in the back with Damon, but Samantha was a woman. He didn’t like sitting in the backseat like a king while she was in the front.

Having a female bodyguard was tuff.

“So why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” Damon asked through the window separating the front from the back.

Samantha took a deep breath and stuffed her irritation out of sight. That man was turning about to be like an overeager puppy. He reminded Samantha of the stray dog Patches she would play with when she was a kid. Patches would always try to follow her home and she would have to slam the door on his face lest he saw the total chaos and agony in her house.

“Why don’t you tell me who the dog belonged to?” Samantha said.

Damon’s face immediately fell. “Daffodil? She was one of our house keeper Mary’s son’s, Fred’s dog. He had rescued her from the pound. I forgot about the poor boy; he must have been devastated.” Damon leaned back on the car seat, raking his hand through his hair.

Samantha noticed Damon tended to do that when he was frustrated. She felt a pinch of sadness for mentioning the dog at the look of agony in his eyes but she steeled herself against it. What needed to be done; needed to be done. There was no place for unnecessary emotions in her line of job. She saw people getting killed, had dealt with their families, and had killed a number of people herself. That was life, you move on, try to cope with the past. If not cope, at least push it down far enough so that it won’t bother you during your working hours. Samantha would be fine as long as she remembered that.