Something terrible had slipped my mind for today.

It was Mrs Brye's court trial. I had met with the prosecutor online, but it was my first time meeting him in person. He looked well reserved and competent at first sight, with his material ready for action. There was something about him though, which seemed off. Maybe it was just my imagination.

I pushed the thoughts aside and sat near the front. I could tell Mrs Brye was nervous, she couldn't stop fidgeting. As the session began, there were many accusations thrown our way, mostly because of me for accommodating her, but our guard was reasonable. It was a good thing I applied for the license earlier as only two more weeks were left before the card came in. With the help of Mitchelle, we were able to recover missing information about Merida. The prosecutor used it for a further proposition which gave us an upper hand. That is exactly how I gained unimaginable respect for Mrs Brye.

She wasn't just an old hag that lived in a poorly built shed, she once was a rich actress in Scotland. When she moved here for Benett Brye, she learnt his true motives. Her inheritance money and the money saved in her bank account was drained by fraud. Her husband promised that it was being shifted from one bank to another, instead, he deposited it in his joint account which he had with his second wife, Laura Logan, a top singer from the early 2000s.

What amazed me, was that this woman sitting right next to me worked in highest- grossing movies and that too in seven different countries! Walking out from the court with an approved ID, was a relief. However it cost me a great deal of getting my badge taken for six months, but since I was working on a case, they were kind enough to extend it after the investigation was over. Usually, it would have been ten years of imprisonment, but since I worked in the police force and my actions could have been accepted as an act of kindness or more importantly for a probe plan... this was the best in store for me.

Hopefully, this was a sign. It was time to let go of this job and enter a different world. A promise I had to fulfil for my Phoebe. Things were looking good so far, but it pained me to know that this could be the calm before a storm. The peace before a reckoning.

Merida was finally ready to be admitted into an elderly home. She was going to move out in three weeks. On our way home, I stopped at a convenience store to buy a packet of Rose cigarettes which were weak in their nicotine content, but it was... progress. Miranda gave me a disapproving head shake. I shrugged a faint smile at her and proceeded to drive.

I asked Merida if she needed to go shopping but she amiably refused, saying she liked staying indoors. I, on the other hand, ate lunch at the cafe. The ornamental bell chimed as a tall, lean figure strode in with a briefcase. He brandished a handsome smile and pulled out a chair in front of me. "Good morning" he greeted. "I always wonder why you're here, principal," I took a bite of my soft, golden meat pie.

"It helps me think," he said, "The vice principal takes care of the school while finishing my work at home. Sometimes I sit in the park near the Uni. Nowadays, with all the correction of the exam papers, I come here for a working ambience," he chuckled, "Besides, I get to meet a special someone whenever she's available."

"You have a way with words," I smirked, amused. He opened his laptop, eyes busily shifting over the screen. I checked my phone for any messages and was content to find Aisha notifying me about the slow progress of the case. Mitchelle had delivered the necklace to Mrs Brye, saying that they couldn't find replicas of the model but there was a piece of metal detected inside the sapphire. Unfortunately, the image came out extremely miniature for the computer to zoom in and for the technical team to deduce what the hindrance was, so they dismissed it as a minor fault in the making.

Attached to her message was a picture of a stack of files on top of which the necklace rested. When I asked her what were they, she replied with 'Meyers said you could go over the copies of all the girls in the picture.' I clearly understood what he meant to say. It was in the law to report any piece of information extracted or discovered, and if I went through them, I would be able to figure out something for which I would have to turn in. This sly jerk was going to take credit for my work again. Little did he know that I had a meaner plan in store for him.

"Everything okay?" Asked Charles, looking concerned with his defined brows furrowed, sipping from his cappuccino which perfectly matched the colour of his tender monolid eyes. "Yeah," I nodded, taking a morsel of my food. Gosh, I was being so conscious of myself around him. "If you're thinking of work you should get on with it, we could chat another time. Hopefully sooner," he gestured at my phone, "I recommend you clear your headspace with a change of the environment. Try a park or a beach, it shouldn't be too crowded," he glanced at his silver wristwatch, "It's good for your health too. You look sullen, maybe this could cheer you up!"

I thanked him for his advice and drove home to where work awaited me. I thought a lot over the enlightening idea and googled for a small corniche nearby. Since it was a workday, Del Monte Beach seemed like a reasonable option, being only twelve-minutes away from Carmel. I contemplated wearing the necklace again, which seemed pretty odd as to why it was returned. Before leaving, I took a peek in my bedroom to where Merida lay, snoring.

At what time did she sleep yesterday?

Shaking my head, I grabbed my stuff and headed out, willing to heed his advice. When I was finally ready to take a break something surely had to come up. Maybe because I was getting more lethargic nowadays... I had no idea why, but maybe it was my time to quit this field.

As I reached the beach, I inspected the place for any isolated space. I set the area by placing a mat and piled the girls' files before seating myself and skimming through them. What I noted was that almost all of them were drug users, be it medical or not and most- if not all were orphans. All of them from the same university. Despite the fact that the students were given another week of holidays, the ones giving board exams were required to continue. Them being one of those unfortunate students. I sighed.

This was too much. I'm tired.

Whether James was the culprit or not, it was sensible for him to leave either way. No matter how exciting being a detective was, this job was not safe. Moreover, it was a pain in the ass- especially with all the paperwork we were required to do. Couldn't it be that a separate department was kept for them?

I closed the files I was done analysing. Resting on my elbows, I observed the beach. Children were running around with their mothers chasing after them. I noticed some tourists staying over with their guide wearing a travel company uniform. They were having a huge party at the beach. One of them was an old man with a gentle face wearing a cassette recorder around his neck. He called a little girl over, building a sandcastle by the shore.

I smiled. Phoebe had a recorder just like that. Cameron got it as a present for her eight birthday. She was obsessed with it, recording her make-believe stories, our playful conversations and little messages she made for me. I closed my eyes and breathed the cold, salty breeze flowing softly through the beach as nostalgia engulfed me with heart-melting memories. Maybe I should go home and listen through them-

Wait.

I speed dialled Aisha.

"Aisha?" I said, sitting up. "Yeah, wassup?" She responded. "Remember the weird clicking, static noise in the background of Sandra's call?" I said, packing my stuff. "It was a recorded call. Someone taped it. It wasn't in real-time," I explained. Agreeing with me, she said she'll look into it immediately. This meant that Sandra was moved into the cabin, the murder didn't take place there.

As I stuffed the papers back into their folders, respective of my reading, something hit the back of my head. I turned to see not a soul in sight. Ignoring the pain, I continued to fold the picnic mat. Another hit. Frustrated, I spun around. A hood visible through the window of my car moved on the other side. I ran to the opposite side of the passenger seat. Nobody there.

"Shit!" I exclaimed and went back to the files. Skimming through the reports I counted and compared them with the picture Aisha had sent me. One was missing. Cursing, I shoved them into my car and locked it as I took off into the distance, searching for any suspicious figure. I earned many dirty looks from families and couples as I insisted to search through their belongings. I cried aloud, agitated. Hopping behind the staring wheel, I went through the documents. Groaning, I called Meyers. Stupid, stupid Geisha.

"Diana Rose's file was stolen."