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My Private Detective Chapter 3

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Poor Sango, I thought, backing out of the Body Shop's parking lot. The old Buick turned with a groan and joined

the traffic on the street. Driving towards Sango's apartment, I marveled at the fact that Sango had come to me

only three days ago. I had met her Wednesday night in my office, then had researched her on Thursday, not seeing

her at all. Then the incident in her apartment last night, and now, today, Saturday, I was driving over to see her.

Funny, it had seemed as if I had known her for so many years, yet we had known each other for days.

Again, I thought, poor Sango. She lived by herself in such a large apartment, and I knew she was lonely. Unlike

most of the wealthy set in town, she did not go out much, it seemed. From what I had discovered about her

Thursday, she was as much of a recluse as I was.

Sango DeVere had been born rich, naturally. Her childhood appeared to have been a carefree, happy one by the

society papers. Her parents were well known people, throwing parties every month, donating to various

charities and always making friends with politicians. And the young Sango had been taken along for the ride.

I braked quickly at a red light, ignoring the horn blast from the car behind me. I was too lost in thought.

Sango's mother died at the tender age of 37 from pneumonia. The funeral had been lavish and well publicized, her

mother having been a large influence in society. Sango and Kohaku were, of course, devastated with

their mother's death. Their father had thrown himself into work with a ferocity that many pegged as an outlet for

his grief. It was a well-known fact that he owned and was the head of a huge manufacturing company that had

once been a few decrepit buildings making next to nothing as far as profits went. He had bought it and had

turned it into the huge corporation that it still was today.

I made a right turn, nearing the apartment complex. Many had questioned Sango's father's business dealings in the

past. Some said he trampled those weaker than him and made powerful allies with people who were less than

reputable. Corruption within the company and illegal transactions were rumored. Could any of that have a part in

this?

There were so many factors, yet I had no clue, and it frustrated the hell out of me.

After her father's and brother's deaths, Sango virtually disappeared. The vice-president of the company took over

and Sango only took part in running the company occassionally, and usually from her apartment. From time to

time, she donated to charities, but never went to any society functions. Apparently, she was happiest at home,

away from the rest of the world.

I turned the Buick into the parking lot that faced Sango's building. One thing was for sure, I had to find out

more about Sango's past, and more about the family business.

Stepping out of the car, I glanced up at Sango's apartment, shielding my eyes from the sun's harsh rays.

Wait, why was her balcony door open?

I squinted, trying to be sure, but I knew it was open, and I had specifically told her to lock up. So why was she-?

Two shadows drifted across the polished glass, and I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. Please, no.

He was in there. The attempted murderer was in the apartment with Sango.

For a moment, my legs felt as if they had lost all feeling, but it quickly returned as I made a frantic dash for the

building's double front doors. Shoving them open, I nearly knocked over several people, but I didn't care. I

had to get to Sango, and quickly.

Ignoring the shouts around me and bypassing the crowded elevators, I ran up the stairs with all the strength I had.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything except for the unbelievable rage I felt towards this man

who would cause Sango harm. Forget reasoning; I was going to kill him when I saw him.

Pushing the side of my dress coat open, I pulled my long handgun from its holster. The weight felt good in my

hand, only fueling my anger at Sango's attacker. Only two more flights to go.

I prayed that Sango would be okay. The monster up there would kill her, that much I knew. Whether it would be

today would soon be resolved. As long as I got there on time, he wouldn't.

But what if I was already too late?

Yanking the stair rail, I practically threw myself up the last flight of stairs and down the hallway to Sango's door.

Reaching, I shoved my shoulder against it, feeling it begin to buckle under my weight.

A scream echoed through the apartment.

"Sango, I'm coming!"

I heaved my full weight onto the door, and it buckled, but refused to open. Damnit!

I backed up against the opposite wall and ran full force into the door with my shoulder. Pain rocketed through

my arm, but the door flew open to reveal Sango against the wall by her fireplace, mortal terror in her face.

A huge man in dirty jeans and a blue sweatshirt hovered in front of her, a sickening gleam in his eyes,

the rest of his face shielded by a dark ski mask, a long hunting knife balanced against Sango's delicate white

throat. Sango cowered against the wall, shaking and begging for her life.

The rage I felt burst inside my brain, and I raised my gun.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

The man turned towards me, but I saw his knife move as well. Sango let out gasp of pain and I didn't hesitate for

a second.

The shot rang out.

Blood spattered against Sango, and her screams increased.

The knife fell from the masked man's hand as he grabbed his arm with a yell, the bullet having gone through his

elbow. Without warning, he ran for the balcony.

I shot again, aiming for the man's legs, but he was too far. Running, my pistol was outside the balcony door, but

he was already down the emergency stairs, running for a dark sedan across the street. I shot again, but the bullet

only bounced off the trunk of the car as it squealed away, pealing down the street at breakneck speed. Damnit!

Breathing heavily from the aftermath of the adrenaline rush, I went to Sango, who had fallen to the floor,

clutching the picture of Kohaku to her chest. A fine line of red dripped from her neck and mixed with the tears

that had fallen on her shirt.

"Sango." I knelt beside her and she flinched.

"Sango, it's okay, it's me. He's gone."

With a wail, she grabbed my arm and held on for dear life. I gently eased the picture from her hands and returned

it to the mantle, wiping the blood from the glass. Pulling Sango to her feet, I realized that one of her neighbors

stood in the doorway, mouth open in shock.

"Call an ambulance," I ordered, holding Sango to me with my good arm. "Now."

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The police had taken my statement and promised that they would get to work on finding my stalker immediately.

I only wished that they would, but I didn't believe they could. Miroku was the only one who could help me now.

My rescuer sat in the worn hospital chair by the door to my room, as if waiting to pounce on anyone who dared

enter. With his head propped against the wall, he looked exhausted, but he refused to sleep. Arms crossed, his

blue eyes kept a silent watch over everything, mouth set in a grim line of determination. With a barely noticeable

wince of pain, he uncrossed his arms, slowly placing his left on the armrest of the chair.

I had noticed he was favoring his left arm somewhat, and now I knew it was hurting him badly.

"What happened to your arm?"

Barely looking at me, he quietly replied, "It's nothing."

"I know it's hurting you Miroku, so get a doctor to look at it while we're here."

"My arm's not broken, so I don't need to see a doctor."

He was so stubborn. Thinking back, I remembered Miroku running through the broken door of my apartment,

and I figured he must have hurt it while breaking it down.

Miroku had nearly broken his arm trying to save me. I felt tears prick behind my eyes. I owed him my life.

Looking at him, I let the tears fall. I had thought that I could not cry anymore, not with the hours I had cried

after being rescued. Miroku had been a wall of strength, staying by my side in the ambulance; beside me while

my neck wound was cleaned and bandaged; right there while the police questioned me exstensively.

The tears continued. "Miroku, thank you."

His eyes shifted to mine, and I caught the pain that flashed in them. "You don't have to thank me, I was just doing

my job."

"No," I continued, shaking my head as much as the pain would allow. "You saved my life tonight, and there's no

way I can thank you enough. You didn't have to hurt yourself to rescue me, or stay by me when I needed you, but

you did, and you can't tell me that it was because of your job. It was because of your heart that you did." And my

heart responded to the words I had spoken, revealing to my brain that I felt more for this man than I had ever

realized. He had become more than a stranger, and much more than my private detective. Without warning, this

kind, caring, courageous man had broken through my defenses and made a place in my heart, causing it to skip a

beat every time he was near, every time I thought of him. Looking at him now, I felt the familiar flutter. I had

come to care for him more than I had cared for any other man, and in such a short time. I thanked God for

bringing Miroku into my life, if even under such horrible circumstances. I was aware now that I could fall in love

with this man.

But, what if he didn't feel anything for me? If the kiss the other night had indicated anything, he did care.

The emotions in his kiss and in his touch were too tangible to deny. He had needed me as much as I needed

his comfort. He had wanted me so much; but that need in his eyes had said volumes.

His past was unknown, but something had caused that sadness behind that need, and I wanted to know what it

was. I wanted to heal him as he had healed the sadness in my own heart.

Miroku continued to stare at me from across the room and I wondered what he was thinking. Barely a sentence

had passed between us since earlier, and so he had been left to lose himself in thoughts unknown.

"I'm glad you're okay," came his quiet voice, breaking my train of thought.

I smiled softly. "I'm glad too."

Could I fall in love? Maybe I already had.

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Danger is everywhere, whether anyone wants to recognize its existence or not. It lurks in the most innocent of

places, and in the most sinister. The shadows conceal the danger, cloaking it in a mask of darkness so thick, one

cannot breathe. Sunlight dances over it, disguising it in a honest truth that could confuse the brightest of men.

Danger was crouched in an alley across from the city hospital, nursing its wound.

"Damn you to hell, both of you!" Spit flew from my mouth to the damp pavement at my feet. The arm hurt so bad,

I hoped I would be able to use it as well as I always had.

Yes, I am awfully good with my hands. Awfully good. It was a piece of cake, prying that cold, metal bullet from

the tender flesh of my elbow, watching the blood drip, drip down my arm, cleansing the cut. I had begun this

day thinking of how wonderful it would be to see that girl's pure red blood in my hands, smell its bitter smell,

feel the slickness between my fingers, run it through her hair. Now look at me, sitting in a filthy alley, just waiting to

catch a glimpse of her or that asshole of a detective who guards her like a doberman. She should be lying cold on

a table in the morgue, not in the warm safety of a hospital! I spat again, the anger causing spots of red to sway in

my vision. I wanted to feel the blood, smell it. Only then would I know that they were all gone, every one of them.

They had torn my life to shreds, and now it was their turn.

One girl stood in my way. Leaning back against the dirty red brick wall I smiled as I held my arm, the sounds

of screams and the images of terror, and most especially blood, racing through my head.

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I smelled it everywhere, through the entire, sterile hospital, in my Buick, and in Sango's own, once safe apart-

ment. The intruder had touched everything in Sango's surroundings with a warning, a black mark of danger. It was

all tainted; there's no way she would be able to sleep tonight.

After the ER doctor had announced that Sango was free to go home, with strict instructions to be careful with her

bandaging, her face had gone white, her lips had thinned, and her eyes had grown dark. She hardly spoke a word

to me in the car ride home, though, I had tried to reassure her.

"This guy won't be paying you another visit anytime soon, not with increased security at the apartments. I already

called a friend of mine, great guy.. very discreet, and he's seen to it that your place is cleaned and back to normal.

The carpet's already been scrubbed, Kirara fed..."

I continued to babble, hoping to draw some sort of reaction out of Sango, anything to confirm that she was still

with me, but I got nothing. Her drawn face stared down at her lap, hands clenched on a bottle of pain pills from

the doctor, eyes fighting back tears. It felt like an invisible hand had reached through my chest and strangled my

heart.

"I talked to Mike a short while ago too. He says the Jeep's good to go, so we can pick it up whenever we want.

He said to just give him a call, and he'll drive over and let us in the garage. He's a nice guy, Mike. He..."

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Poor Miroku, he was trying so hard to distract me.

But it was no use, when the doctor had told me I could go home, my brain froze, I could feel the cold, numb

feeling spreading through my head like fingers. The hospital was safe.. it was crowded, well lit, and very big. I

could have hidden in that building forever. But my apartment was isolated, lonely and dark. I could hear my

screams from earlier echo in my head and prayed that they were not a premonition of things to come.

"... so, it will only take us a few minutes to get there, if traffic stays like this. And then, just five or so minutes

more to get everything. We'll both go in, even though the parking lot's well-lit."

What on earth was he talking about? The scenarios that I imagined greeting me at my apartment door had

completely drowned out what Miroku was saying. I lifted my head for a quick glance out the dark window, and

had no idea where I was.

"Where are we going?"

Miroku turned and gave me a worried look, the street lamps reflecting the concern in his eyes.

"We're going to my place, so I can pick up a few things."

I wasn't following him, and he realized it too.

"I'm sleeping on your couch tonight."

Such a simple statement, to make my heart start pounding out a frantic drum beat. The sexual tension between us

was already strong enough without having to sleep in same apartment, with only a door dividing us. Mental

images of our little tryst on the couch from the other day invaded my thoughts. Miroku would be resting on that

same sofa tonight.. would he think of the other day as he lay there?

A quick look in his direction confirmed the answer I was seeking. His face was a blank stare, watching the road

carefully. Of course Miroku would not be thinking of our kiss, he was too professional to let something like that

distract him. The kiss was meaningless to him; an accident brought on from the heat of the moment. Maybe he

thought it was the only way to calm my fears. Maybe he thought I was easy, letting him take advantage of the

situation without any 'no'. Maybe Miroku didn't really like me at all.

"You don't have to thank me, I was just doing my job."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Perhaps I had been reading too much into Miroku's actions and making my own, false

interpretations. And maybe the whole attack today was my fault, since I have been practically throwing myself at

Miroku, distracting him from doing his job.

"... just doing my job."

I made a pact with myself, right there in that car, at that moment. I would be friendly to Miroku, but only in a

cordial, polite way. No more clinging to him, no more crying in front of him, and most especially no more

kissing him.

The thought gave me a sense of loss, as if something vital had been taken from my body. But, it was for our own

good, both of us. We had to be alert at all times, not caught up in some little affair.

I had already begun to fall for Miroku, and I knew what I wanted was no 'little affair'. I wanted the real deal from

this man.

I could do this, no problem.

Staring out the window, a memory of my father came to me. I had been ten or so, and Kohaku had been crying;

bullies had teased him on the bus for having a stuffed bear in his backpack. The look of hurt on Kohaku's

young face had eaten at me, and, furious, I had stood over the bullies and given them a piece of my little girl

mind. My father hugged me later at our house, after consoling Kohaku with cookies and a new toy.

"You are going to be a very strong woman as you grow older, my Sango." He patted her braid, smiling

with fatherly pride. "Today, you stood up for what you thought was right, and that takes a lot of

confidence in yourself. I'm so proud of you."

Such a small, quick memory, but it had left a lasting impression on me, or so I had thought. Have I forgotten

how to stand up for myself? I've felt so alone since losing my father and Kohaku, did I lose faith in all of my

abilities?

And when?

Regardless, it was time for the old Sango to come out. I owed it to Miroku, and most especially, to myself.

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And so I continued, for three days straight, to bump my head against the invisible walls that Sango had thrown

up around herself. For three days, we conversed politely, in a very detached manner. For 72 hours, I had to

work, eat, and breathe in a Sango-filled environment. And for three very long nights, I slept on the other side of

Sango's bedroom door. Pure heaven and pure torture at the very same time. My body was so alert of her every

move, that I had trouble doing anything straight. Straight. I groaned and shifted in my seat as Sango glided past in

a very flattering white dress, just like an angel.

Mentally berating myself, I continued typing away on my laptop. I had to concentrate on organizing all of the

facts in this case, or die trying. Literally.

Situations such as Sango's were a P.I.'s nightmare. Random attacks, a smart bad guy, and plenty of suspects,

with no clues to pinpoint one. Well, one clue; it was a man.

My thoughts wandered back to that night, wading though a path of worry over Sango, and trying to rest on the

attacker. I saw the guy's hands and Sango's throat. Gloves, thick and brown, had hovered near her slim neck. I

tried to recall if I had seen gloves like that before, with their special design on the back, but nothing came to

mind. Let's see... he was wearing a blue sweatshirt.. common.. jeans.. common.. a black ski mask, way too

common.. his shoes.. I imagined a cartoonist penciling in a lightbulb over my head. The man had been wearing

brown, polished, leather (probably Italian) shoes.. those were expensive. So, the man already had money. Maybe

the gloves fit into that as well.

Quickly, I searched through a website that specialized in selling gloves. Scrolling through the pages, I nearly

gave up hope, until a pricey pair of gloves caught my eye. Brown, leather gloves with a large logo on the back

of each hand. Bingo.

'Robinson Co. handmade, tailored to fit hunting gloves'. Now, this was getting interesting.

I gave my photographic memory a mental pat on the back. It only failed me when women were involved.

Sango's attacker was already rich, or being paid very well to try and knock her off. He also did some hunting,

and knew it well enough to buy the very best gloves and a hunting knife for the task. Shit, just what I needed,

someone who knew how to kill from experience.

A reflection of light was dancing in my memory, and I again went back to that night. Was light reflecting off

of Kohaku's picture? No, I didn't think so, it was smaller than that.

I stared at my computer screen, willing myself to remember, the mystery naggling at my brain, but it didn't come

to me. I sighed deeply, some things took time, but I wanted to catch this guy now. Every second that he was out

there, unidentified, was another second that Sango's life was in very real danger.

Closing the laptop, I rose to my feet and stretched, arms reaching towards the ceiling, wincing at the pain in

my left arm. Still sore, geez. Kirara blinked sleepily up at me from the sofa cushion.

"Sorry to disturb your sleep, princess." Leaning over, I stroked her head, her purr music to my ears. Kirara and I

had come to be very good friends and bunkmates. Now, if only her owner and I could do the same; I wouldn't

mind a sleeping Sango on my chest instead of a cat.

Walking into the kitchen, I admired Sango's slim form as she leaned into the fridge, searching through her veggie

drawer. Resisting the urge to lay my hand on her inviting behind, I walked over to the stove, sliding the spatula

through her pan of stir fry, trying to ignore her when she was suddenly beside me, green peppers in hand.

"This smells great."

"Thanks, it's one of the few things I try to cook at least once a week. My one attempt at a health food kick."

Instead of telling her that she had a body that health nuts would die for, I smiled and stirred. I was a coward.

I was scared. Ever since that trip from the hospital, Sango had put distance between us. It was obvious in

the determined set of her jaw and the stiffness of her movements when she was near me. Was she scared of the

chemistry between us? Did I do something to upset her? She hadn't said a word to me in my apartment, so did

I say something wrong in the car? I wondered if she was angry with me for not being there when she was attacked.

Sango had seemed very understanding and grateful at the hospital, but had she changed her mind? Did she hate

me? Standing beside her, there in that kitchen, I suddenly wished those invisible walls were very real and very

solid.

Anything hard to bash my head against would have worked.

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