Chapter 36 Diary
VERONICA
I had finally found it. The only thing that could lead me to the bastard I had been searching for.
I inhaled the musty smell of the diary and smiled. It had been years, yet the scent of my mom's favorite coffee still lingered in the book. I pictured her, writing down her life while sipping strong black coffee, her eyes sparkling, her cheekbone rising with each written word of something funny that happened, or her face scrunching in hidden pain when she jotted down the troubles she went through that day.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, holding the diary to my chest.
I sighed and locked the drawer, then walked back into my father's room and dropped the key in the book before heading down the stairs.
I made sure to put everything back in order before heading out.
Thankfully, the living room was just as empty as it was when I walked in to begin my search.
When I got out of the building, I made sure no one was watching as I crept to the garage and dropped the diary in my car.
I stared at it for some time before slamming the door shut and locking it.
I trusted no one. If the serial killer could come here and look for the book with no fear or hesitation, then he could do even worse.
I shivered at the thought of the killer and walked away from the car, heading back to the garden with a smile on my face and a confidence that brushed off the fear that engulfed me when I was sneaking around the study. No one would notice anything.
I paused before I could walk in, then stared down at my shirt and pants.
“Shit!" I cursed when I noticed that I was covered in dust.
I spun around and headed into the house, then burst into the bathroom in the living room, covered in embarrassment.
I hoped that no one had seen me that way when I was heading to the garden.
I cursed again and switched the tap on, then began to wash my face, which didn't escape the dust either.
I washed my hands and picked out a wipe, then began to brush it over my shirt.
Thankfully, I was putting on black clothes. The dust would be out easily.
As I wiped myself clean, my phone rang, causing me to jump.
I gasped loudly and gripped my chest, then reached into my pants pocket and pulled out the phone.
Chills washed over me when I looked at the caller's ID, and Mr Thompson's name popped up.
I breathed in and accepted the call while holding my raspy breath.
“Where are you? Everyone is here aside you," he asked. He seemed to be shouting because of the loud chatter that surrounded him.
“I went to the bathroom to wash up,” I muttered, and he hummed.
“Alright, be quick, I reserved a seat for you," he said, and I smiled, feeling my heart warm.
“I will be out in a minute, thank you," I replied, and the call ended.
I breathed out and dropped my head, leaning on the sink to support my shaking legs.
I sighed again and continued to clean my dress as fast as I could. When I was done, I threw the wipes into the trash can outside the door, then headed to the garden.
When I got there, everyone was already seated and chit-chatting while sharing food.
My heart clenched as I watched the happy family from where I stood. No one seemed to care if I was there or not. It felt like I had never returned to the family.
I took a deep breath and brushed off every sickening thought and feeling that tried to cloud my mind and body.
My eyes travelled to where my brothers sat, and I saw Mr Thompson waving at me from where he sat.
I smiled and began to walk towards him. Some of the chatter reduced when they began to notice me.
Their eyes trailed after me as I walked. I didn't bother to throw my head to the side and share a false smile with any of them. I only fixed my eyes on Mr Thompson, not giving a damn about them the same way they never gave about me.
When I reached him, Mr Thompson got up and pulled a chair for me. The smile on my face fell, and my heart skipped multiple beats at his action.
I finally turned and looked at the faces of my family members.
Most of them had smirks on their faces, others surprise, and confusion.
“What's wrong, Vicky? Are you searching for another intruder to chase around?” One of my nasty cousins spoke up, and everyone burst into laughter.
I frowned in rage and looked at my father. He was neither laughing along with them nor did he have a frown on his face.
I gulped hard and flashed a smile at Mr Thompson, before slumping into the chair beside him. He sat down and picked up his cutlery, his lips twitching into a smile.
“Eat, Victoria, don't let their words get to you,” he muttered as he dug into the chicken on his plate.
“Hmmm," I hummed and picked up the fork.
I looked up, and my eyes locked with those of Michael.
“Is it just that you haven't been here, or I'm just noticing you," he muttered.
My heart clenched, and the fork in my hand dropped.
I flipped a glance to the sides and breathed out when I noticed that everyone was minding their business once again.
I turned back and faced my food after a staff member served me what I requested.
“It's not the first time I've always gone unnoticed in a crowd. You just chose not to notice me," I muttered.
I wasn't saying this to defend myself. I was saying it because it was true.
Even if I were here, no one would notice me.
“What?" Michael's eyes seemed to darken as he muttered.
I looked up at him and parted my lips to reply, but stopped when Mr Thompson touched my thigh.
I shuddered and felt sweat break out on my back when he did it. Even though he meant well with that touch, it still felt like…
I took a deep breath and shook my head, then looked at Michael, whose eyes were still fixed on me.
“Nothing," I blurted out and flashed a smile at him.
Connor paused and looked at us, noticing the unspoken conflict between us.
“What's going on?" He asked, his eyes darting from me to Michael.
“It's nothing," I replied.
Silence fell on us as everyone ate in peace.
I kept glancing at the wristwatch on my wrist, impatient to go home and see what was in the diary.
Just when I had almost gone halfway with the meal, a crash from the garage pierced the air.
My heart sank into the bottom of my belly as everyone's head jerked up in the direction of the sound.
“What was that?"
"Is it coming from the garage?”
Murmurs filled the air as everyone slowly got up, and panic filled the air.
My father dumped the wipe he was holding on the table, then began to walk out of the garden.
A man rushed in, panting heavily.
“What was that?" My father snapped.
"Sir, we found a man breaking the glass window of one of the cars in the garage!” The man blurted out, and a gasp escaped my mouth.
“Was the bastard caught?" My father growled in anger.
"Yes, sir, he was caught. He is being held in the garage as we speak–”
“Whose car was it?" I cut in, stepping forward.
The man paused and looked up at me.
“This is the car," The man pointed at the photo in his phone.
My jaw dropped, and I staggered back, heart racing and fist clenching.
“That's my car!" I snapped, and all eyes turned in my direction.
“Did you say the man was caught?" Mr Thompson asked, and the security guard nodded.
Mr Thompson and I exchanged knowing glances.
Finally, he would be exposed now.
I didn't waste a moment before marching towards the garage, ready to know who the filthy man was.