— You can't do this. — I say when Eric calls me aside to talk. Katherine was making tea to serve us, still looking worried without the immediate answer from the other.
— I have to. There are countless guest rooms here. — Eric said, trying to sound neutral. There was the possibility of catching the criminal if he stayed with her. However, I definitely wouldn't accept that easily.
— Set up a perimeter around her house with some guards. — My voice comes out irritated, and Eric notices, placing his hand on my shoulder.
— Of course I'll do that too; there will be guards around. If something happens, I'll be here. — He said, trying to make me understand. In truth, I noticed he was starting to get impatient.
— ...I don't want... — My voice came out more whiny than I would like, and it wasn't about the investigation. That feeling of jealousy was slowly consuming me, making me feel insecure.
— Trust me, Nathan. — He spoke so firmly that it made me melt. His intense gaze upon mine. I let out a frustrated sigh and just nodded. He walked over to Mrs. Greenfield to give her the news, leaving me there, distressed.
I looked at the colorless photos on the wall while I waited, realizing there were no other relatives, just the couple. I had heard from Taylor that Mr. Greenfield was very attached to his family. I turned toward them when they returned; now Felix would be babysitting that woman. I sighed again. I touched my temple; the pain hadn't completely gone.
— I'll ask the witnesses a few questions. I'll stop by here at nightfall. — I commented, making a gesture that I was leaving, and exited the place. I couldn't feel at ease leaving Felix there. Obviously, that woman was too interested in him, despite all the frailty from losing her husband. It's paranoia, the nightmares, I thought. If he would just say he loves me, none of this would be happening.
When I got to the department, I went to look for Taylor. He was in his office, staring at papers with a lost look, sighing even more than I had that day. I grabbed his shoulder, and the redhead jumped, almost falling off his chair. I held his arm to keep him from collapsing to the floor because of me.
— Are you okay? You look lovesick. — I smiled playfully. The boy blushed violently, and I realized I was right. I hadn't imagined the shy guy could be having any sort of romance. — Are you dating?
— N-no... — He said honestly, so adorably that I wanted to squeeze him. I gave his head a brief ruffle.
— Confess to the person, Taylor. Don't waste time. — I tried to encourage him, mainly thinking about how Eric could just open his mouth and say what he felt, for once. If he really felt the same; our romance could be unbalanced.
— N-no, she doesn't even know I exist. I don't want to talk about this now! — The boy realized this line of conversation was not convenient at all.
— Alright. Where are the files on the serial murders that happened ten years ago? — Taylor took me to the archives, the place was huge. However, the boy seemed to know it well enough to go straight to the right date. He searched for a few minutes and handed me the papers.
— Thanks. Can you give me the address of Mr. Greenfield's family? — That was my case; I couldn't focus on anything else now. I would look at the files only at night.
— Unfortunately, Mr. Greenfield's relatives are all dead; even if I gave you the address, you wouldn't find them there. — Taylor said, taking a small piece of paper. — But there's the house butler; here's his address. Maybe he can tell you something significant.
— Thanks, Taylor. Next time, tell me the name of the lucky one. — The boy blushed again. He didn't answer; he was so cute I wanted to tease him.
I hoped to find something significant at the butler's house, besides avoiding any unnecessary inconvenience. I wanted Eric to go with me, but at the moment, he was comforting a lonely widow.
The butler's house was old, seemed worn out, and had probably never been maintained. I hesitated to knock; I had a bad feeling, but I couldn't back away because of something I wasn't sure would happen. I knocked a few times on the door. It didn't take long for an old, bulky man with graying hair barely covering his head to answer, looking at me inquisitively.
— Sir, I'm Nathan Blauth, investigator. — I showed my badge; however, he didn't really look at it, staring at me with dead eyes. A chill ran down my spine. I knew that kind of man, the worst kind.
— Come in. — His voice was cavernous; I felt a certain fear of it. I took a deep breath. The furniture was covered with white sheets. I looked around, there was dust on the floor. The paintings were turned down, hiding possible memories. I decided to remain standing. That man was melancholic and somber.
— Did you work at the Greenfield mansion? — The man sat in an armchair with the white sheet and looked at me; that unsettled me. That man was eyeing me, desiring something—it was unpleasant. I had to look away.
— You don't look anything like an investigator. — That deeply irritated me; I just smiled, waiting for the answer. — Yes.
— What can you tell me about Mrs. Katherine and Mr. John Greenfield's relationship? — I asked, trying to be as professional as possible, when the man simply licked his lips, like someone seeing something delicious they want to devour. I swallowed hard.
— Mr. Greenfield was always present, visiting his parents whenever possible. However, I only saw his wife's face on their wedding day. She was never present. Despite that, Mr. Greenfield seemed sad in recent years; his parents were dying, and not even at the funeral did that woman bother to show up. — His voice was full of anger. Yet, he kept his eyes on my body. Even with disdain, he still couldn't keep his feelings at bay when looking at me.
I thought that was enough; a seed of doubt about Mrs. Greenfield was growing in my mind.
— Thank you. — I left the place as fast as politeness allowed. But before I reached the door, I felt the old, wrinkled hand grab my arm. I looked at the man, who was smiling; his mouth was missing teeth.
— You look more like a harlot. — I yanked my arm forcefully, reaching for the doorknob to open it, only to realize it was locked. I turned toward the man, who still had that hideous grin.
— You'll be arrested for contempt. — I admit I was scared; that man was disgusting, and when his macabre smile widened, it only got worse.
— I'm dying; I don't mind going to jail if it means one last thrill. — I backed away as he advanced. That old man had more agility than he should. I ran toward the window, ready to break the glass, but before I could, he grabbed my wrist and pulled hard. Obviously, that man had once been strong and still preserved fighting skills. I hit my head hard on the floor and blacked out for a few moments—seconds that allowed the man to get on top of me.
When I opened my eyes, I felt his presence too close, revulsion coursing through my entire body. Reflexively, I kicked him where it hurt most. His cry of pain echoed through the house.
I kicked him again, in the same spot, as I stood up. Let him suffer. I grabbed the key and left. I noticed my head was bleeding. I felt nervous, I wanted to see Eric immediately.
— Take me to Mrs. Greenfield's house. — I asked the coachman. I cleaned my wound; it wasn't serious, it would only swell, but I didn't care much at that moment. There were more important things on my mind.
When I got to the house, I knocked immediately several times on the door; it was already evening. I waited for a few moments and got no response. I opened the door; it wasn't locked. I felt anxious—something could have happened.
I entered stealthily, going upstairs, looking around, everything silent, until I heard something coming from the bedroom. I took a deep breath, starting to suspect this wasn't exactly a husband-killer case. I opened the bedroom door. My eyes widened, and I felt my breath falter, unable to believe what I was seeing.
Katherine was clutching Eric's shirt tightly, her lips pressed to his. The investigator pushed her away without noticing I was in the room. The woman's eyes were filled with tears, as if lamenting something.
— I understand you're sad, but no... — Eric notices me there, looking at me surprised. He completely let go of the woman, who fell sitting on the bed. She was wearing a dark green silk robe, her curves almost exposed. Eric's shirt had several buttons torn.
— Nathan... — I didn't want to hear him say my name. I turned and left, quickly descending the stairs, heading for the door. I knew this could happen. Before I could leave, Felix grabbed my arm firmly. I turned toward him; I just wanted to get out of there and be alone.
— Listen, I heard something in Katherine's room; she broke her husband's pictures, and I went to check. She was crying a lot; I tried to stop her from hurting herself and ended up hugging her, and she misunderstood. Look at me. — His request was so selfish; at no point did I look directly at him. I felt disgusted with everything, with myself for having to endure this, for the vile man who tried to hurt me. I was stressed and indignant.
— You're too vulnerable here. — I hope I didn't sound too cold. My throat was rough.
— What do you mean?! — He didn't seem to understand my point; he was more concerned with explaining. I knew Eric wouldn't give in to that woman's charms; what worried me was her doing more, comforting him in moments of weakness—that was what anguished and suffocated me.
— She may have killed her husband to get his inheritance. You could be in danger. — I crossed the line; I shouldn't have said it like that, especially after the situation—it could sound like presumptuous speculation, driven by the scene I had just witnessed. I only confirmed that with the slap I felt coming from Felix. I turned my face, bringing my hand to my warm cheek, as he moved away from me, as if my body was sick.
— Do you hear yourself?! Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you should make deductions based on your feelings of frustration. — I didn't want to listen to him, so I headed back to the carriage, this time calmer. Eric was the biggest idiot I knew. These weren't personal deductions—I didn't trust Katherine. Something about her didn't fit. But, in fact, saying that was triggered by my jealousy. Still, Eric had no right to act that way. I had just witnessed something that disturbed me, something unsettling, and he even hit me. Wasn't that stupid?
This time Eric didn't come after me. I felt more defeated than before. I went home exhausted, I didn't want to sleep, or I'd have nightmares—and the investigator wasn't there to comfort me; I didn't want him to be.
I heard knocks on the door, almost immediately went there. Maybe he'd finally realized how much of an idiot he'd been?!
— Eric... — But it wasn't him; it was Jean Desnki. He looked at me sympathetically.
— From the looks of it, Eric isn't here. — He smiled slightly, seeing my disappointed face.
— No, he's at Katherine Greenfield's house, playing her babysitter. — I said with more jealousy and hurt than I wanted to show; the man seemed to notice.
— Want to go out for a drink? You seem frustrated. — I thought about refusing, but Eric didn't deserve my restraint. I wasn't used to drinking, but that discomfort, sadness, and frustration needed to be forgotten somehow.
— Yes. — I grabbed my coat, going out alongside Desnki; he gently placed his hand on my shoulder. I let him keep it there. I noticed he looked at me as if admiring someone else, yet I didn't feel desire; if it was there, it was hidden behind that smile. I entered the carriage, letting him take me away. Eric, idiot.