Her Shadows

CHAPTER FOUR

AMELIA POV

Perched on a branch of the highest tree in the vicinity, I sat. Waiting. Watching. The vibrant green and brown foliage shielding me from view, casting shadows against my pale skin.

Across from me sat a large, modern and elegant townhouse with white awnings and stone-grey walls. Through the broad, floor-to-ceiling windows gracing the top floor, I was able to see all movement. Having already planted bugs in various pot plants and window seals the day before, I was able to hear everything too.

Chiselled Jaw had decided to carry those damned files with him for the last two days. They had never left his person once in his many trips to the office and home. Today is the third day of tracking the darned man.

Refusing to lose focus for even a moment, I reposition myself, removing a twig from where it was previously digging into the soft skin beneath my knee.

Chiselled Jaw enters his luxuriant home, kissing his wife on the cheek as he passes. The target briefcase in hand as per usual. He bounds up the staircase. Amelia for a moment appreciates the muscles bunching beneath his dress shirt as he moves.

Chiselled Jaw has now removed the documents from his briefcase and places them neatly on the corner of his desk. He then proceeds to work for the next two hours, typing away at his computer, signing contracts, answering the phone. But never once touching the documents.

Bored with the monotony, Amelia witnesses him loosen his tie, popping the first button of his shirt whilst he frustratingly pours over the work in front of him.

Finally, the dull man stands, yelling for his wife and exiting the room. The door closing behind him.

Not wasting a moments opportunity, I bounce up, ignoring the protest of my stiff bones.

After stealthily climbing down the trunk of the tree and landing on soft, soundless feet, I make my way to a water pipe lining the three-story building.

Gripping tight and locking my legs against it, I shuffle my way up. Core muscles pulling and tightening as I nimbly swing a window open and pull myself through.

Fixing my gloves and pulling them tight around my dainty fingers I set to work.

Grabbing the documents, I flips through. Noting that some refer to a property agreement, partnership deals and tax files. For a moment, I wonder if this were a dead end until I spy the last sheet of paper.

CLASSIFIED

ADDRESSED TO RONAN CLEARWATER

The classified letter contains information on what appears to be a trafficking scheme. Mr Parker is involved in human trafficking? Drugs?

The note, vague in its information simply lists that Chiselled Jaw, now known as Ronan Clearwater, is a key player in the trafficking business and his assistance is needed in an upcoming deal.

Snapping a photo of the document, the information taking me one step closer to discovering exactly what black market dealings Mr Parker has involved himself in, I then slip my phone back into my pocket.

Reordering the pile back to its original stack, I ensure my presence is erased.

Just as I had tidied up the last pile, I hear Chiselled Jaw bound up the staircase, heading straight for me.

"It's not in my office, I swear!"

His wife pipes in from downstairs "It is! I placed it on the bookshelf this morning!"I hear the distinct creak of the door-handle as Chiselled Jaw wraps his hands around it, twisting.

Just as he enters, walking over to said bookshelf, his window clicks shut. The sound so soft it is easily mistaken for a gust of wind. So soft not even the intimidating man standing metres from it could hear it. Nor could he hear the silent shuffle of my body down the water pipe.

"Well why isn't it here then!"

By the time his frustrated wife has trudged up the stairs, entered his office and immediately found the lost item, I had made it to the ground and began my walk back to the manor.