The Little Dove #2 ✔️

15. Get Your Own Orchid

CHAPTER 15: Get Your Own Orchid

The thing with heat pumps, is they could be easily hacked, changing the temperatures to a level way above or below tolerance levels, wasn't difficult and neither was inserting a filter of liquid chloroform. The second he turned it on, he inhaled the toxins that will merely knock him out for a few hours. The antidote to block the possible inhalation of the toxin, unless hydrocyanic acid has also been ingested, though it's not considered medically appropriate, only a small amount for just a split second, stops the ability of chloroform to being susceptible to the human system.

He's quiet, snoring lightly against his couch. I use the digits he'd used to open the desk, an unknown set of digits, before a four-pin-code, and the desk opens. I flick the heat pump off.

Empty.

It was fucking empty.

I clench my jaw, standing up in annoyance, I use dentist gloves, moving around the edges and corners and kinks in the desk that looked like a magic box. I furrow my eyebrows, knocking lightly against the thin wood, no extra room. I huff in annoyance, moving around, towards the drawers along the glossy wood.

Nothing but boring stationary items and old-fashioned ornaments that I couldn't even begin to understand. I glance over towards his desk, his snoring, filtering the air in the otherwise silent atmosphere. I strut over towards his desk, opening the screen, before looking towards the drawers.

Files of timetables, sheets, and unnecessary paperwork. Though what I've come to understand, is some people-bold people will place the most important of objects, information, and special tools, in the most unexpected, looked-over places.

This is where I found a decrypted email in the lower cabinet of files five to six years ago. I open the envelope, skimming the sides, I open the crisp piece of paper, my mind reeling in a whirlwind of thoughts, a police report.

'To whom it may concern,
There is something wrong with the PBI Academy in Pearson, London. The Detective of the local police department, Detective Johnson, told me my best friend must have fallen from the cliffs on top of One Tree hill, just above the Academy. I spoke with him and Principal Jewel, along with Professor Forthright...they were all so reassuring, so sickening...they thought I was merely a paranoid, stressed-out student. Something happened to Corinne. She wasn't crazy, or psychotic-like they had said. Professor Forthright is wrong. He didn't help her. No one here can be trusted.

~Viviane Calore

Local Police Department, Head Manager, Ryan Laurence.
4589 BayLand Point, Claremont Drive,
London, UK.

I furrow my eyebrows, it seems I have more research required to do as I glance up, thankfully he was still asleep on the couch, I turn towards his desktop, flicking it on, I open the screen and wait as it uploads. I scan the room for any possible open cameras on my phone as the screen updates and loads to open. When it does, the lock screen pops open, I plug in my USB, opening the algorithm as it identifies his password.

Because I'm falling in love with you.

I look over to Professor Forthright in utter disgust. He was a bastard. One I will take down. Telling me he was in love with me? I doubt the chloroform was meant to rip any truths from his lips, he was more delusional than I thought. Considering, I will be the one making sure he's in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit in the end.

He's a manipulator of the mind, everyone's but mine that is. His stunts weren't going unnoticed and now, it's time he pays for the prices of his choices. His disgusting, vile choices.

The screen unlocks, and I hurriedly move to files, searching through names, where I open a section of the Police Department and find the jackpot; Stella Blake, Bella Cruise, Charlize Northern, and Corinne Delia.