15 No Witness (1/2)

I was five minutes earlier than asked. He had probably gauged my actions and therefore given me the passcode to the villa. I did as asked and went up the stairs for the first time since I came to this place. I felt a little excited to see what he hid there but was sorely disappointed to see that the floor consisted of bedrooms and guest bedrooms and nothing as fascinating as I had imagined.

The night before I had come up with wild images to amuse myself, but this was too normal for my taste.

I opened the second door on the corridor and found loose sheets meticulously arranged to surround a small spot of space, where he must have been sitting and analyzing the material. At the other corner of the room, there was a whiteboard with names and dates on it. Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped in front of it.

The names were of boys ranging from age thirteen to fifteen, all of them having gone missing over the past year and a half. Beneath the information was locations where they were last seen. There were other words scattered across the board which made no sense.

'No witnesses'

'Complex notion of masculinity'

'Bodies?'

I was startled. From what I had gathered from Seth, the cops were suspecting a human trafficking ring functioning in City Y and the authorities only figured it out after a high school student from Town X went missing in the same area. But according to Mr. Butler, these were serial killings. Those conjectures were leaps and bounds from one another.

I heard the door open and turned to look. Out came Mr. Butler, dressed in a fluffy white robe and drowsy eyes. He was dragging his feet and seemed to be walking with his eyes closed, but he avoided the papers perfectly. The rustling sound continued as he made his way down the stairs and mindlessly headed for the kitchen. I followed silently, holding back a snicker. The morning was full of surprises.

He was already slumped over the table inside the kitchen when I reached. A glass of milk was being warmed in the microwave and the toaster was on timer, too. A jar of butter was placed on the table, which had not been the case when I had been here earlier. Yet, he looked utterly asleep, or at least not in a state to open his eyes. The timer on the toaster went off first and he scurried away and took the slices of bread on a plate. He returned to the table and plopped down. He huffed and started smearing the bread with the butter, eyes still closed. When the microwave turned on he repeated the same process, but this time he cradled the glass of milk between his palms and sipped it with a little pucker of his lips. He shuddered and drank a little more. When he was done with the glass, he raised his head a little and squinted at me.

Unable to hold back, I broke into a fit of laughter. He was irritated and pouting, the milk mustache still present above his lips. He seemed to gain some knowledge of his surroundings and rubbed his face on the robe like a sleepy cat.

It was all extremely entertaining.

”You slept late this morning,” I stated matter-of-factly, but my amusement seeped through. He was more awake, but the glare he gave me was still very low intensity. It was an exceptionally rare opportunity to tease him and win in an argument against him. He did not reply, of course, but the responding groan was enough to tell me that he was very particular about his sleep and couldn't function properly without.

”What happened to your hair?” he asked suddenly. His eyes widened as he gasped in horror. I touched my hair, feeling conscious and smoothed it down further.

I had made a bun in the morning, unusual for me, but it was the best option as there would be a lot of field work involved and I wouldn't want my hair to get in the way or touch my neck and make me feel uncomfortable.

”It's practical and makes me look put-together.” He gave me a calculating look.

”You're going to be talking to people on my behalf. You looked nicer with your hair in a ponytail.” He dropped his head on the desk but looked up at me. ”Don't bother,” he said later as I was about retort.