Chapter 61: Caged and Watched Sophia POV

I slammed the bedroom drawer shut, the wood rattling as I yanked open another, digging through old receipts and scraps of paper. My fingers flipped through a stack of notes, searching for anything I’d written about Victor, my breath huffing out in sharp bursts. "Where is it?" I muttered, tossing a crumpled grocery list onto the floor, the paper fluttering like a dead leaf.

The restraining order papers sat on my bedside table, mocking me with their crisp folds. I grabbed them, flipping through the pages again, my thumb smudging the ink on Victor’s name. "Threatening behavior—bullshit," I said, crumpling the edge and throwing it back down, the thud louder than I expected in the quiet room.

I paced to the kitchen, my socks sliding on the hardwood, and pulled a mug from the cabinet, the ceramic clinking against the counter. I poured water from the kettle, steam rising as I dunked a tea bag, my hands fidgeting with the string. "He’s got me trapped," I whispered, dipping the bag up and down, watching the water darken.

My phone buzzed on the counter, Jake’s name flashing. I snatched it up, pressing it to my ear. "Hey," I said, my voice tight.

"Soph, meet us at the diner—Mel’s here too," Jake replied, his tone steady but urgent. "We need to figure this out."

"Be there in twenty," I said, hanging up and tossing the phone back down, the clatter echoing. I grabbed my jacket from the hook by the door, zipping it up with a tug, and slipped on my sneakers, lacing them fast. I picked up my notebook from the coffee table, tucking it under my arm, and headed out, locking the door with a quick twist of the key.

The air outside was crisp, a stray cat darting across the street as I walked to my car. I climbed in, starting the engine with a rumble, my foot tapping against the pedal as I drove to the diner. Inside, the bell jingled as I pushed the door open, spotting Jake and Melissa in a corner booth, Jake flipping a sugar packet between his fingers, Melissa stirring her coffee with a spoon.

"Hey," I said, sliding into the seat across from them, dropping my notebook on the table with a soft thud.

"You okay?" Melissa asked, setting her spoon down, the metal clinking against the saucer.

I shook my head, unzipping my jacket and shrugging it off, letting it pool behind me. "No. This restraining order’s got me stuck—I can’t even get near Victor."

Jake leaned forward, tossing the sugar packet aside. "We’ll find a way around it, Soph. We’ve got your back."

I flipped open my notebook, my pen tapping against the pages as I scanned my scribbled notes. "I’ve been trying to dig up more, but it’s like hitting a wall."

A waitress approached, her apron rustling as she set a coffee mug in front of me. "Here you go," she said, pouring from a pot, the steam curling up.

"Thanks," I mumbled, wrapping my hands around the mug, sipping the bitter brew. "Victor’s winning, and I can’t do a damn thing."

Melissa reached over, flipping through my notebook, her finger tracing a line. "What about these contacts? Could they know something?"

I shrugged, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. "Maybe, but the cops aren’t helping anymore."

Jake frowned, grabbing a napkin and folding it into a tiny square. "What do you mean?"

Before I could answer, my phone rang, vibrating against the table. I picked it up, seeing Detective Simmons’ name. "Hold on," I said to Jake, pressing the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

"Ms. Sinclair, it’s Simmons," she said, her voice clipped. "We’re closing the Colson investigation—no evidence linking Victor Sinclair to the crime."

I slammed my mug down, coffee splashing onto the table. "What? You’re giving up?"

"Not giving up—there’s nothing to go on," she replied, her tone firm. "No witnesses, no forensics. It’s cold."

"They’re giving up, Jake. No evidence means Victor wins," I snapped, hanging up and tossing the phone onto the table, the clatter drawing a glance from a nearby customer.

Jake unfolded the napkin, smoothing it out. "That’s bullshit. They can’t just let him walk."

I grabbed a spoon, stirring my coffee hard, the metal clinking against the mug. "They can, and they are. I’m stuck with this damn order, and he’s free."

Melissa slid the notebook back to me, tapping a page. "Then we dig harder ourselves. What about these old leads?"

I flipped to a page, my pen circling a name—Tom, security guy. "Maybe, but I can’t get close enough to check without breaking this," I said, kicking the table leg lightly, my foot scuffing the wood.

Jake grabbed a fry from the plate in the center, dipping it in ketchup. "We’ll figure it out, Soph. You’re not alone."

I nodded, sipping my coffee again, the heat stinging my lips. "I just... I feel like he’s laughing at me."

"He’s not untouchable," Melissa said, picking up her mug, cradling it in her hands. "We’ll find something."

I flipped another page, my fingers brushing the paper, scanning lines I’d written months ago. "Hope so, because right now, we’ve got nothing."

Jake squeezed my hand under the table, his thumb rubbing my knuckles. "We’ll get him, Soph. One way or another."

We finished our coffee, the waitress clearing the plates with a clatter. I zipped my jacket back up, tucking the notebook under my arm as we stood, pushing the diner door open, the bell jingling behind us. The cold hit me as we stepped outside, my breath fogging in the air.

I glanced down the street, adjusting my hood, when I froze, my hand pausing mid-air. "Wait," I said, grabbing Jake’s arm, pointing at a familiar black sedan parked a block away, its engine idling, a wisp of exhaust curling up.

"What’s that?" Melissa asked, squinting as she pulled her scarf tighter.

"It’s been there before," I said, my voice dropping, my fingers tightening on Jake’s sleeve. "Someone’s still watching us."