13 It's Me

Jim took a look at the door again, confirming that it was locked. Then quickly, he swiped the screen of her phone. To his surprise, it wasn't password protected. Just like that, her mobile was unlocked.

Wow. These people really had no sense of privacy.

He then looked at the device, ready to start intruding, when he was taken aback to see a picture of himself staring back at him.

What in the world?

Had Miya been searching about him?

He quickly opened the history of her browser, and saw that she had gone through a lot of articles on him. They were all browsed between 11:30 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. The time he had been passed out.

Jim's suspicion deepened. This woman was good. There was something the matter here. In his mind, he began to analyse. He assumed that the bald old man from before did belong to the social service group that Miya was a part of. He had looked like some government official anyhow, who must have spent half his life behind a desk.

He recalled the conversation he had overheard. "Your life would be a thousand times easier," the man had said, and that Miya shouldn't come crying to him later. Was it simply a matter of her financial incapacity, the organization would be obliged to help her, not make her give the kid up. Had it been her style of parenting that was a problem, Miya wouldn't have looked like that when he mentioned the man. He had earlier assumed that it was something of the sort, her inability as a parent for example, that was the problem, and had therefore extended his help to get rid of the man.

Now he knew better.

The issue obviously ran deeper. That was the reason he had ordered Park to investigate her.

Because as far as Jim could conclude, she was obviously involved in a situation where giving the kid up was the easier way out. Or so the bald man had suggested.

He looked at the phone again.

Had he had the time, Jim would have read through all the articles himself, just to know what she had gained knowledge of. But he just memorized her search term (which was simply 'Jimmy Hunter') and noticed that she had gone through the first ten links on the first page. He decided to read them himself later on.

He breathed.

Then quickly, scrolling through her contacts, he took screenshots, and sent them to his own phone. Then he opened her chats and was slightly surprised to see nothing there. 0 chats. Woah. She either talked to nobody, or simply left no record.

Jim was inclined to believe the latter.

Then, he went through her social media apps, only to find out she had no accounts. Finally, he opened the Gallery.

He hesitated for a minute, it was the gallery of a girl's phone after all, but then moved on. He had already ordered an investigation of her. How much guilty could the photos in the phone make him feel?

He had already broken like, ten State laws.

He couldn't find anything of much use, so he simply dialled his own number from her phone, saved her number in his mobile, then deleted the call logs. He removed any other evidence that suggested he had touched her phone, and when he was done, he quietly placed the device on the floor again.

It was about to be three in the evening.

He had around nine hours left to convince Miya and get married too.

Strangely, his heart raced, and he started sweating. He was not used to panicking easily, but just then, he freaked out.

What was he going to do?

If things didn't work out, and that woman couldn't be convinced, what the hell would happen to his future?

Jim started pacing around the room.

No, no negative thoughts. He was going to make the girl succumb. He was Jimmy Hunter. He could never lose.

Just then, there was a slight knock on the door, and a faint whisper.

"It's me."

Jimmy was almost relieved. If she was around, he'd be able to focus on the task at hand, rather than fear the possibility of failure. He took a glance at the room, saw that everything was in place, and walked to the door. His heart didn't waver with the anxiety of being caught. He had invaded the privacy of many people before her, as far as phones and laptops were concerned, at least. He knew he had left no trace behind.

He was about to open the door, his own phone in one hand, when a message flashed on its screen. It was Park's.

Jimmy smiled. Park was rather fast.

He opened the message. It surprised him that it was just one statement. Usually, Park sent him entire biographies for messages. The text read:

'Get out of there. Now.'

Jimmy raised his brows.

What the hell?