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"When will this nightmare end?" I mumbled.
When I got out of the shower, I was feeling sleepy. So, I put on athletic shorts and a t-shirt and walked to my recliner. Then, hoping to catch the evening news, I switched on the TV.
Instead of the sportscaster, the scene before me was so disturbing that I had to clench my jaw to keep from puking. The screen displayed a single, large image of a dead woman. She wore a bathrobe, and her skin was stretched tight over her skeleton. Her mouth hung open wide as if she was frozen in the middle of letting out a chilling scream. I realized it must be a video when the focus shifted and tightened on what appeared to be a star tattoo on her neck. "Chelsea," I gasped.
I stood, still unable to pull my gaze from the video. Then somber music began to play as a grim warning scrawled in blood-red letters appeared across the screen:
LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS...
I was light-headed to the point of nearly passing out. My limbs felt like jelly, yet I managed to grab my phone and call Bruce. Fighting to stay focused, I barked, "Get your ass up here right now. I've made a discovery."
The next thing I was aware of was law enforcement swarming the area, taking pictures as Detective Carter interrogated me! Why did I feel like I was about to be arrested?
One Big Jerk
An Enemies to Lovers Romance
Prologue
Chase
"Congrats!!!!"
I joyously waved goodbye to my dear friends, Guy and Ariel, who were standing on the grand steps of their newly purchased estate - Casa Palacious —inspired by a palace in Seville, Spain. My friends still inside were celebrating the couple’s miracle baby, Jonathan.
Guy hollered from the porch, "See you Monday!" as he uncapped yet another beer. He then asked eagerly, "Are you sure that you don't want to respond to your text now while you're here? I'd be glad for you to use my office if it helps."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be more comfortable at home. It could be a new client, so the noise from the party in the background might sound unprofessional on my end.”
"I get it... believe me!" Guy answered.
Earlier, someone with an unknown number texted me. The area code indicated the caller was located in Canada, and I was curious, and a bit wary, of who it might be.
For a few years now, Rosedale Tech had been plagued with unsolved mysteries and even murders. Within the last few months, my colleagues and their families had been forced to adjust to lives that required high security. I watched as Guy gave the guard a thumbs up as he stepped inside, and I ducked behind the wheel of my Escalade, headed toward home. Then after rolling up to the first stop light, I unlocked my phone to reread the text, hoping to pick up on some clue or, at least, the sender's general vibe.
Chase, we need to talk. Meet me at your apartment in an hour!
As I placed my phone into the holder, I looked out the windshield at the stop light and eagerly anticipated its shift to green. For the life of me, I couldn't explain why I had just lied to Guy. Or maybe it could be classified as omitting the truth. But whether it was just a blatant fib or a lie of omission, my response was a mystery to me. This text was NOT from a potential client or old friend.
On second thought, maybe I was just being nice — not wanting to throw a monkey wrench in the party. Or perhaps I didn't want to admit I was bushed from the holidays or from being the new project manager on Rosedale’s largest undertaking. But nevertheless, the stress of knowing the perp was still out there somewhere, ready to wreak havoc on our lives whenever he or she damned well pleased, was keeping me on edge.
I didn't want to interrupt Guy with something trivial like this, but as the light turned green, I lifted the phone to text him. I mean, it was probably best to let him know a stranger wanted to meet me in a private setting, security or not! Although I doubted he would read it anytime soon—probably not until after everyone had left the party.
Just as an FYI, the person texting wants to meet me at my place. I'll update you later! AWESOME party!
Suddenly, I shivered involuntarily. Various conjectures raced through my mind about who had sent that text message and why, yet none seemed plausible. As I hurriedly strode through the underground garage, Bruce, my security detail, acknowledged me with a nod before I hopped into the private elevator that led to my penthouse. However, as I approached my door, something seemed off — it was slightly ajar. With a pounding heart and trembling hands, I quickly snatched my phone to send out an urgent voice memo:
"Bruce! Get up here! We have a problem.!"
Almost immediately, Bruce appeared at the door with his firearm in hand. He carefully entered my penthouse and began searching it for any potential issues. I was relieved to discover nothing was amiss. "It's a false alarm," he said after thoroughly checking every nook and cranny. We were both struggling to make sense of the situation. Someone had breached my security system, and Bruce was the only one I trusted or, more accurately, the only security professional around to try to help me unravel this mini mystery.
Crammed into the hallway closet where my security system was located, we felt like two over-eager teenagers expecting something scandalous to pop up on the monitor any second. We were definitely not disappointed. The system had captured me leaving for Guy's party and very obviously entering the key code to lock the door. The hall remained empty as we fast-forwarded the video, indicating several hours had passed. Then at midafternoon, the elevator doors opened, and a bright beam of light was directed at the camera lens.
"You mean to tell me for twenty minutes the system recorded that damned beam while someone broke into my home and rummaged around doing what?" I asked Bruce.
"That's impossible!" Bruce replied.
"No, it's not," I said, slamming my fist on the console. "This is the work of a real pro. Someone who knew how to hack the system — or at least override it."
