Repent

nine

CHAPTER 9

Ms. Alexander. Her name had sent unmistakable chills down the rim of my spine, she held a close composure of each my anxiousness; she seemed to know the time when she could have caught me off track, her words ringing through my mind over the fact of her words made a deep cut from not only below me, but sent crocodile tears to the ridges of my eyes. 'Ashley's one of my best employees in this building, she doesn't need you!'

Each word held a certain hatred for me, my curiousness, and the fact that I had decided to work here. My eye contact made with case 2 had an immediate curiousness to me. She knew the way that I couldn't stop until I got the answer of Harry's case. The reason that she had demanded me to leave the case, it made me confused to why I had to even face another wall to this case? It was certainly mine to claim, whenever Ashley had made her way to vacation with her husband, or her kids. It was mine to take care of, but the look on Ms. Alexander's face meant it was her case, now, whenever Ashley had gone.

After her words, she had strolled away, not caring to even give me a last look of hatred from behind her shoulder to give the knowingness of never wanting to see my face, again.

Well, it seemed like that had to be changed. I was in too deep to this case to let it go, it seemed like it was threaded into my mind, now. It proved that by my laptop encased onto the surface of my lap, the heat radiating of my skin from the little holes at the device. It was a case of knowing that Harry was certainly part of this, part of this whole fiesta, but he didn't want to tell a single soul. Not a single one. The science lab in the building had their own corner, their own large spaces in the building. There was not a reason to go there, I still needed to.

My apartment had been dark, nothing but the light of my laptop radiating the effect of no ounce of light in the spaces, except the flickers of my appliances, in the pure dark. My eyes squinted at my page, scrolling through my page of messenger, some other strangers that you could so kindly to be your friend. It had been over years that I had made a single check of it, knowing I had no time. Harry made his way back to his cell after our late night chat, my mind still holding the booming of his voice as it said. "Gemma Styles!"

He didn't care over the silence of the building; he could make whatever noise that he wanted. And, he did. He screamed all he wanted to for the fact that he was mad, he was mad because of the amount of question and attention that the reporters looked all over for. The late night shift of mine had immediately gotten canceled at the demand over my goal to research anything about him, tonight.

As I was scrolling mindlessly through the amount of possible contacts that I could gain, a simple photo caught my eyes, and it was her. Her blond hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail, green orbs mockingly glaring at the surface of the camera, a ridiculously funny look onto her feature. She held a look of challenge, without no care. A strand of hair had wavered down the surface of her forehead, black, thick framed glasses cladded onto her eyes, but never seeming to cover her mesmerizing orbs.

The side of her image held the contact 'Gem Ridges.' Now knowing that she in fact, did have a husband on her side, that she couldn't find the time to catch just a single sight of her family, her own blood. A single, little girl had been attached to her side, cladded onto the surface of her lap, seeming to have the same posture, feature as Gemma, herself. She, also had her twin coy smile to her face, looking almost at the age of one. I instantly clicked at her profile, gaining a welcome of the main image of her profile. Her picture was stored in the corner of her page, over hundreds of posts to her page. I was cautious.

I know it was somehow . . . stalking, but somehow I couldn't care for the reason that I was doing my job, I was going the right direction of how I was supposed to go. So, I continued. Scrolling through her profile, my eyes made direct contact with her "followers" and her "following", in an instant, making my way to the little box. I pressed down onto the left side of the mouse, the countless line of her "followers" and "following" appeared to my image. The third name that I noticed had been in the two options had been 'Edward Ridges' known as the one and only husband of her.