Page 132 of Mine To Hunt

When I reach the security room, I interrupt the camera signals for a brief moment and replace the live footage with a short recording of an empty hallway. To anyone watching the monitors, nothing will seem out of place. With the cameras temporarily fooled, I continue deeper into the building, unseen.

I make my way to the storage cabinet in the archive room, opening it quietly after picking the lock with tools that leave no scratches or marks behind. I place the document inside a specific section where I know Iris is likely to search, ensuring it blends in naturally among the other files without drawing immediate attention.

The action feels precise and satisfying because it advances my plan without unnecessary complications, and I close the cabinet door with the same care I used to open it, leaving no trace that anything has been disturbed.

As I exit the building the same way I entered, retracing my steps to avoid any new risks, I feel a sense of completion knowing that the document is now in place at The Daily Chronicles, specifically in the newspaper office's archive Shoproom where she handles files regularly.

This calculated move is designed to guide her toward the information I want her to discover, and I bet on her curiosity to lead her directly to it without her realizing the manipulation behind it.

I have been quietly digging into the man who has been stalking Iris. The messages he sends may be anonymous, but nothingsent through a phone is ever completely invisible. Small traces always remain if you know where to look.

I spend hours studying the patterns in those messages. When they were sent, how they were routed, and the tiny digital clues left behind each time they reached Iris’s phone. Bit by bit, those fragments begin to form a picture.

The trail eventually leads me to older records buried deep in criminal databases and archived court files. It takes time to sort through them, but the name finally appears. Martin Doyle.

The man had been accused of stalking before. Years ago, another woman reported the same kind of behavior. Messages, surveillance, psychological intimidation. The case collapsed in court because there was not enough proof, and he walked free without facing any real punishment. The pattern is unmistakable.

Once I understand who he is, I make a careful decision. I print a copy of the old case file and place it among the documents at Iris’s workplace, slipping it between similar unsolved cases so it won’t stand out too much.

I want her to find it, but it has to feel like a natural discovery rather than something planted for her. I cannot be completely certain she will notice it, because people are unpredictable, but I have watched Iris long enough to understand how her mind works. She is curious. When something resembles her own experience, she will investigate it.

The next day I watch her routine unfold exactly the way I expected. From my laptop, I quietly monitor the activity on her phone, and eventually I see what I was waiting for.

A call placed to the woman mentioned in the file. The moment confirms my assumption. She found the document, and her curiosity led her exactly where I hoped it would. A small sense of satisfaction settles in as the final piece of the setup falls into place.

With that step complete, I move forward with the next phase of my plan. If I want Martin to reveal himself, I need to push him carefully without letting him realize who is behind it.

I place a call to him using a number that cannot be traced back to me, routing it through several layers that hide my location and identity. To him, it will appear as if the call is coming from somewhere else entirely.

Everything is ready. Now all that remains is to see how he reacts when someone finally reaches out to him first.

The call connects after several rings. When he answers, his voice is sharp and guarded. "Who’s this?"

I let a brief silence settle before responding. "Someone who’s been observing your work."

A pause follows.

"My work?" He asks, suspicion creeping into his tone.

"Yes." I reply calmly. "Your little project with Iris."

His voice hardens immediately. "You shouldn’t be saying her name."

"Why?" I ask lightly. "Afraid someone else noticed her?"

Another pause stretches across the line.

"You’re wasting my time." He says finally. "Say what you called for."

"I wanted to see if you’re as careful as you think you are."

A quiet scoff escapes him. "You tracked down this number just to judge me?"

"Not judge." I correct. "Understand."

"And what exactly do you think you understand?"

"Your habits." I say. "You watch first. You study routines. Then you tighten the pressure little by little."