Chapter 33 His face
VICTORIA
I gasped loudly at his response, my hand over my mouth.
“I don't think I can properly describe what he looked like, but he has a scar running from his nose to his chin," he muttered, and my throat knotted.
I leaned closer and placed my hand on his arm, my eyes wide with brows raised in question.
“If I show you pictures, you will recognize him, won't you?" I asked.
His eyes dimmed, and he shot his head back.
“Who exactly is that man?" He finally asked the question I feared he would ask a long time ago.
I leaned back into my seat and let out a sigh, those words running across my eyes again.
“That man is a devil," I muttered.
"What do you mean?” He asked as he brought the engine back to life and switched into gear.
I sighed and dropped my head on the headrest, unable to explain further.
Thankfully, Mr. Thompson didn't ask any questions again. He perhaps understood my silence and continued the ride to my father's house for lunch with the family.
I let the silence linger for the rest of the ride since I had gotten what I needed.
When we stepped out of the car, we headed straight to the garden where the lunch was taking place. Everyone was already there, chatting and laughing while sipping champagne.
I darted my eyes over the happy faces of everyone scattered around the garden, then stopped when my gaze fell on my dad.
I wondered if he knew who that man was or what mom had gone through while she was still alive.
It puzzled me that neither he nor the rest of the members bothered to ask me who I was chasing after.
This was unlike my father, especially knowing how concerned he was about my security and well-being.
He looked so happy and acted like nothing happened. Not just him, but everyone else in the garden.
They all acted like chaos didn't break out a few hours ago.
“Are you okay? You look pale," Mr Thompson muttered as he stood beside me.
I looked down at my body and realized that he was right.
“Nothing. I'm just thinking,” I replied.
He narrowed his eyes over me, his brows raising in suspicion.
“Well… what are you thinking about?” He suddenly asked.
My throat ran dry, and my lips parted and slammed shut as I searched for a lie to tell and cover up.
“Uhm… I…”
“Thompson!" My brother's voice hit us, rescuing me.
Mr Thompson looked up at them, and so did I.
“Join us over here," Connor said, waving his hand in the air.
Mr Thompson waved back at them, then turned around to face me.
“Will you be okay being all by yourself?" He asked, worry bouncing in his eyes
“Yes. Just go, I'll be fine," I muttered and nudged him forward.
He stared at me for a moment before striding off to meet my brothers and cousins.
The smile on my face slowly faded when he went away to join the others.
I sighed loudly and glanced in Stella's direction. Her glare was on me as she spoke. I could tell she was trying to convince some of my cousins that I was a terrible person.
They all turned and stared at me, disgust scribbled across their faces.
I glared back at them, spun around, and walked into the house.
Thankfully, everyone was in the garden, giving me enough opportunity to search for what I wanted.
To find that man, I had to dig out my mom's diary. Everything I needed to know about him might be in there. Perhaps, I could end up finding his photo in there, too.
The little I know about that man was just a peek I took from the diary, so I knew it was the only thing that could help me break everything down.
I walked up the stairs and headed towards my father's study. I knew the diary would be somewhere hidden in those huge bookshelves in my father's study.
When I got to the door, I took a deep breath and reached for the knob with a trembling hand. I turned the knob and pulled the door open, my heart racing as the door creaked.
The smell of rotting wood and strong coffee that my father must have had before the remembrance hit my nose.
I scrunched my nose and stepped fully into the room, throwing my head at every side, my eyes scanning every book on the shelf.
I took more steps towards the table and began to turn over the books on it. I searched every book on the table, then moved over to the shelves and began to look through every book.
“Where could it be?" I whispered as I disarranged the bookshelves that my father spends hours arranging.
As I searched the bookshelves and drawers, footsteps echoed outside the door.
I froze, and my hand began to tremble as the footsteps got closer. I slowly closed the open drawers and slowly crawled behind one of the shelves, squeezing myself between the wall and the large shelf.
My heart raced, and I slapped my hand over my mouth when I heard the door creak open.
A creepy footstep echoed in the room, and my blood froze.
That wasn't my father's footsteps, and I was certain it wasn't my brothers either.
Could it be…
I almost gasped out loud, but stuffed my hand into my mouth to stop the sound from coming forth.
I heard the drawers open and slam shut, yet no sound other than that was made.
My heartbeat increased when I saw a book taken out of the bookshelf I was squatting behind.
The book was dropped back, and another one was taken.
Whoever was here seemed to be looking for something, perhaps a book.
My eyes dimmed and widened in realization. The diary! What if the person was searching for the diary?
I began to shake as he searched the bookshelf. I hoped he wouldn't see me from the opening if he pulled out a book that shielded me.
Relief washed over me when he moved away from the shelf.
I sighed loudly and reached out to grip the edge of the bookshelf for support as my legs ached from the squat.
Horror hit me when I accidentally pushed a book off the shelf.
My breath ceased, my skin paled, and the rumbling in the drawer stopped.
I began to shake in fear when I peeked through the little hole between two books on the shelf and saw a pair of black pants.
The man turned in my direction, and I slowly crept back, but I doubted if he didn't see me.
My heart skipped a beat as he began to trudge closer in my direction. My heart clenched as I stared at the shadow that was creeping closer to where I hid.
My hand shook in fear, and my heart raced so much that I feared I would die of a heart attack.
Even though this would help me know who the killer was, I still felt afraid that he might kill me, or worse, turn out to be someone I knew.
My eyes widened when I saw a pair of shiny black shoes appear beside the library.
This was the serial killer. He was here, in my father's house. And worse, I had been caught by him.