Page 123 of Mine To Hunt

This time, I read every statement more carefully. The anonymous messages Mily received described private details of her life. Her written statement describes constant paranoia. She began suspecting everyone around her. She stopped trusting friends. She felt watched even when she was alone.

It is like reading my own diary.

A small, fragile sense of hope begins to grow. If there is a pattern, maybe there is also a weakness. But fear follows that thought quickly. A man who has done this before knows how to stay invisible.

At the back of the file, I find her contact information. Phone number. Last known address. It feels strange to see it printed so plainly.

Without thinking too long, I take out my phone and save her number. My fingers move quickly, driven by urgency. She might understand. She might know something that could help me.

I close the file and slip it into my bag for now. I know I should return it properly later, but I cannot let it go yet.

When lunch break arrives, I step outside the building and walk to a quiet cafe away from the noise. My heart is pounding as I dial her number.

The phone rings several times before someone answers.

"Hello?" The voice is careful, cautious.

"Hi." I say, trying to keep my tone calm. "Is this Mily?"

"Yes. Who’s calling?"

"My name is Iris Whitlock. I work at The Daily Chronicles. I came across your old case file while researching something. I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but the details in your case were very similar to something I’m experiencing right now. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to speak with me."

Silence stretches between us. I can hear faint background noise on her end, then nothing.

"How did you get this number?" She asks, her tone tightening.

"It was listed in the archived report." I explain quickly. "I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I wouldn’t have called if it didn’t feel urgent. I just… I didn’t know who else to reach out to."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"What do you mean, similar?" She asks at last, her voice more controlled now.

"I’ve been receiving anonymous messages." I say. My grip tightens around the phone. "They reference personal details. My schedule. Private moments. There have also been rumors spread about me at work. It feels deliberate. Like someone is slowly trying to isolate me."

She doesn’t respond right away.

"You’re saying you have a stalker?" She asks quietly.

"Yes." I admit. "And the methods match what was described in your case. The messages. The manipulation. Even the psychological pressure."

Her breathing shifts slightly. "That file was years ago."

"I know." I say softly. "But the pattern feels too specific to ignore."

She lets out a slow breath. "I don’t talk about that period of my life anymore."

"I understand." I say quickly. "I really do. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. But I’m scared. And when I read what happened to you, it felt like reading my own future if I don’t do something. I don’t know who else would understand."

"You should go to the police." She replies automatically.

"I have." I say. "But they dismissed me."

There is another long silence. I can almost feel her debating whether to end the call.

"I spent months trying to forget." She says finally, her voice lower now. "It took me a long time to feel safe again. Talking about it brings everything back."

"I’m not asking you to relive it alone." I say, my voice softer now. "I just need perspective. Even if it’s just advice. Did he escalate suddenly? Did he slip up? Anything you remember could help me protect myself."