The Mercy of Birds

CHAPTER 11: THE HUNT FOR THE KILLER

CHAPTER 11
THE HUNT FOR THE KILLER

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She appeared later than expected when Nicholas accosted her near the stairs where the John Harvard statue was situated. She didn't know he was waiting for her and brushed him off as a forbidding stranger with sunglasses on, but when she heard his voice called out her nom de guerre, she had no choice but to acknowledge it in the most incriminating way for her identity's sake. She froze.

Fortunately, her instinct reigned with some sense of control. The adrenaline that burst on her vein propelled her to take action. Other thoughts that weren't quintessential for her survival at the moment flew out of mind as she sprinted away through the path, but a flash of black almost collided with her if she didn't recoil fast enough. Another stranger of a man in a suit with no tie appeared from a hidden enclave somewhere and purposefully impeded her escape.

Her hand caught the pepper spray that she kept in her person at all times, but when she pulled it out and aimed it at the second man, the masculine voice that had called her name from before intercepted her.

"Ms. Caine, please, keep the violence at bay, I just want to talk."

Nicholas didn't need to make an overture for himself when he saw the sense of familiarity to his voice altered her panicked state. She turned to face him fully but retreated a few steps back when he approached her, mindful of her entrapped situation.

"If you just want to talk, Mr. Crane, you wouldn't need to corner a girl like this," she remarked with a reproving tone, narrowing her dark brown eyes that were plagued with distrust at him.

He stood tall with circumspect movement, deliberate and measured in the way he carried himself. He emanated a sense of esoteric grace in his poise for a man so daunting, and he wasn't even the one gifted with prodigious artistic talent among them. Even when she saw him in his most disoriented state a couple days ago in Las Vegas, he still retained his magnetism somehow, an ensnaring hawk that liked to play with its prey and got disenchanted when it died or surrendered their life too soon.

"My apologies, but it's a necessary means because I know you will run," he excused himself even though there was a lack of repentance in his voice. "But don't worry, my man is only a shadow, there's only the two of us here."

She glanced back and forth between the two ominous men, but clearly the biggest threat came from Nicholas who owned the hand that controlled the course of action. "What do you want? I have a class. I need to go."

"I suggest finding a better lie next time, Ms. Caine. I know your last class for the week ended twenty minutes ago and I figured if you've taken the time to pick up some Bourdieu from the library you must have a slow day without a client, so will you care to accompany me for a walk?"

She knew it wasn't much of an option, even if he worded it as though she could exercise her free will. "You've been spying on me."

He shook his head. "Only for this one occasion. I need to know if you have some time to spare. I'm a very considerate person when it comes to people's time and I will appreciate it a lot if they reciprocate the act."

He beckoned with his hand for her to move forward. "After you."

She had no choice but to comply, pulling the gray coat that she had donned herself in closer to her body. She eyed him through her peripheral vision warily. There was a familiar quality of concealed feebleness often found in men like him who tried to hide it with their muscle-bound figure and some piece of unequivocal power that they attained at one corner of earth or two. He had put his hair into a bun and the stray strands of wavy hair that fell on the side of his face seemed to amplify the sense of vulnerability, yet with the austerity of his countenance and expression, no one would dare to mention it.