"Hey, good morning."

A friendly greeting and the delicious aroma of grilled sausages is quite a pleasant welcome this morning. Nevertheless, with all the sweet treatment done by the long-haired woman who was busying herself in the kitchen preparing breakfast that morning still could not erase the feeling of discomfort and emotion resulting from the hot conversation they had last night.

She still doesn't know how to act in front of Freen after she revealed her secret as a jerk who cheated the law in the dirtiest way after killing 9 people with a firearm. The woman should have been removed from the police force—disrespectfully, if it can be proven that the shooting was intentional—and end up in jail with a minimum prison sentence of 15 years.

If she being honest, actually she didn't feel anything while she was around Freen. Even after she knew that she had killed someone before. She should have felt a little scared and threatened, but she didn't feel that way right now. It just feels... normal. Like she was with normal people in general. Well, she was still annoyed to death with that woman, remembering their first meeting which left bad memories.

However, after all that Freen had done for her, from caring for and keeping her in the hospital as a form of responsibility, picking her up at a mental health rehabilitation facility, to helping her in the hospital after being attacked by strangers, Becca felt that the wall of ice that lay beneath her between them slowly began to thaw.

But still Becca didn't want to spend her morning sitting and talking to this woman—her mind was still drifting to the chat they had last night and she didn't think it would be good for her mind. In addition, she also has plans to return to her family's home and discuss important matters with her father.

Realizing her words were ignored by Becca, Freen gave a knowing smile and still placed two plates on the dining table and started placing eggs and cooked sausages on them. "Why so rush? You didn't eat anything last night, did you? So, sit with me and eat together. I can guarantee that my cooking will not disappoint you." Freen placed the pan on the conduction burner and used a paper towel to wipe the surface of the grease.

Behind her, Becca exhaled slowly. Even though she wanted to leave immediately, the long-haired woman managed to hold her back with the lure of a plate of breakfast food and a glass of warm milk. She felt like she looked like a six-year-old whose mother could fool her with a bar of chocolate candy. Well, even though Becca herself seemed reluctant to comply with Freen's request to have breakfast together, the woman still took a seat in the dining room—opposite the chair Freen would occupy.

It didn't take long for the young lieutenant to pack up her cooking utensils and join Becca, who still hadn't touched her food, only to wait. Seeing that, Freen gave a small smile. She didn't expect Becca to be waiting for her. It was a small deed that made her feel appreciated even though Becca's face looked too straight because of the lack of expression she showed.

Downing half a glass of mineral water, Freen sat herself up in her seat. "You shouldn't have waited for me. You said you were in a hurry, at this rate I even feel guilty for making you late to finish your business." she said while pressing her temples. "Where are you going with a sore neck like that? Your schedule with Billy is still three days away."

Becca muttered. "Why do you ask? Is that important to you?"

"You... I'm just afraid to leave you after the incident that happened yesterday." Freed sighed. She placed her spoon and fork neatly on the plate without making a clinking sound. "By the way the police have caught the guy who slashed your neck last night. It was the Traffic Security Division that caught her when she tried to escape across the highway to another city. She has been handed over to the team and Irin will take care of her."

Becca's eyes flashed—she was suddenly interested in what the woman across from her had just said. Her hands gripping the cutlery tightened, the image of her beating, beating, stomping, choking, and kicking the bastard human who was trying to kill her at that time. This was the first time Becca felt she needed to be violent during an interrogation. Normally she had a zero tolerance for violence, but for some reason over the past few weeks she had felt the need to slit the heads of one or two humans for her own sake.

OK, looks like she's out of her mind now. And Becca admits it.

"Where is that person?" as fast as lightning she replied and stood up from her chair. Looks like she will go to the office to finish off the perpetrator without thinking twice. But luckily, Freen immediately grabbed and grabbed her wrist—giving her a glare and ordering her to sit back down. "Let go of me, dammit. I'm not going to let you stop me from doing what I did to get the information I need from that lunatic."

God, why did I just find out that this woman is quite stubborn,Freen groaned inside without letting go of her grip. Becca, who felt uncomfortable, immediately moved her hand rather roughly so that Freen released her grip. "You still don't understand your position, do you? Didn't I say that what happens in the office will be my business. I also promised that I will help you, is that still not enough?" she grumbled. "After all, if you want to bait Heng, you can't just come and attack her like that. That's not the way to play, Rebecca."

Becca sighed, she was right.

However, everything that is done in a hurry will actually give unsatisfactory results. Especially with cases like this where she doesn't want her suspicions of her co-workers to be too obvious which will actually make her lose what she has earned. At times like these, all she needs to do is go with the flow of the game and spring up to attack when she's the appropriate weapon.

Now, she only had assumptions. If she attacked now, it would be the same as killing herself.

"Okay," Becca finally answered. While brushing her hair to the side of her face, the short-haired woman snorted. "I obey you like this, doesn't mean I entrust everything to you. So don't think you can do everything without my knowledge."

Freen chuckled. The expression on her face showed that she seemed pleased with Becca's answer just now. It was marked from her lips that formed a thin smile as if she had been made happy by something—and that was true, because Becca's words made her feel that way. That was one of the goals she was trying to achieve for now; making Becca give her the confidence she needs.

"Of course, the Honorable Chief Sergeant Rebecca Armstrong. By the way, you still haven't answered my question. Where are you going today?"

For a moment, Becca was silent. She chose to divert attention to her drink instead of answering Freen's question. She took the glass filled with warm milk that no longer gave off hot steam and drank it down until nothing was left, only after she finished her drink, Becca opened her mouth, "There's something bothering me in my heart, and this makes me want to ask daddy a few things."

The woman opposite then put the cutlery that she was holding in such a way using both hands on the plate. The clinking sound produced by the metal-based object surprised Becca. She flinched, and immediately looked straight at Freen. The woman herself had now brought her fingers together and used them as a lap for her chin, while her eyes stared straight at the empty plate in front of her.

Freen's lips seemed to be trembling, as well as half of her irises that were out of focus and tended to move wildly in several directions even though Freen was trying to focus on the white plate she was using earlier. Worried that something bad will happen to Freen, Becca decides to ask. However, for some reason, Freen always managed to take the right time to dodge away and forced Becca to keep her mouth shut, deciding to swallow back all the questions she was about to ask.

"Wait a minute, I have to call my friend. This is important," Freen said as she walked away holding the cellphone that had been brought close to her ear. She didn't wait for a response from Becca and left the short-haired woman with a few questions to call her boss on the balcony.

Friend? Becca frowned, wanting to know who Freen was trying to contact and what they were going to talk about so that the woman's expression changed one hundred and eighty degrees. The annoying face of an arrogant lieutenant that she had first shown to her reappeared a few moments ago and had sparked a bit of annoyance in her heart.

The young sergeant exhaled. She didn't want to think about whatever Freen was doing on the balcony and spent her precious minutes sitting pensively in the dining room. She picked up the plates she and Freen had used, placing their two glasses on the top pile to take to the sink. Freen had already made breakfast for her so all she could do to help out was wash the dishes and clear the dining table before going into the bathroom.

While washing the dishes, her mind never separated from the series of sentences she would throw at her father. You could tell, her mind was really messed up now. It was a difficulty that she had never thought before that she would find it difficult to compose sentences and make questions to get the important information she needed. Though, that sort of thing should have become her specialty considering she had been doing this job for several years without stopping.

She was still trying to calm down. It wasn't often that she saw her family after working on this case—when was the last time Becca had stayed over at her parents' house? Maybe about six months ago. With the current situation and the serial killer who is stalking her, Becca doesn't want to give her family the same danger, so she reduces her intense communication with her father, mother and brother.

All that she did with a heavy heart. As the youngest child, it is very difficult for her to refrain from saying that she misses her family very much. As if isolated from the outside world, having no place to warm themselves and shedding all the grievances. She had no one to tell how scared and nervous she was when the killer mentioned her name, followed her all the time, challenged her, and killed others just to provide proof that she was still waiting for her.

Even though the police have provided special security for her family at their new residence, Becca is still afraid that everything she has done will end up in vain. Sooner or later, the killer will find a loophole and locate her family. If so, then everything will be repeated from the beginning. Her family couldn't go on like this—a life of shifting and restless, watched by several pairs of eyes belonging to the plainclothes police assigned to watch every member of her family.

Exhaling, Becca pulled a dry napkin from the hanger near the sink, used the soft gray cloth to dry her hands and headed into the bathroom to clean up. Under the warm water flowing from the shower, her mind rumbled again. But this time, she felt that something stuck in her head was not her own mind.

But like someone else's mind, or... someone else's soul that penetrates the labyrinth of her brain. Becca closed her eyes to strengthen her conviction. Because she swore, a few seconds ago she heard something in her head speak as if she was muttering to herself.

Of course you've all talked to yourselves, haven't you? At that time, it was as if you could hear your own voice. As a normal human being, Becca would often do that kind of thing. However, what happened to her a while ago was something different because she was one hundred percent sure she wasn't muttering phrases like, "Kill yourself," and, "Take Freen Sarocha's revolver and kill her before she kills you,"

And she came again.Becca ruffled her wet hair roughly. A voice that wasn't her just now made her uncomfortable lingering in the bathroom so she hastily dried her hair and body, changed clothes, and came out with a towel wrapped around her neck. She knew what her eyes would see if she ignored the sound and chose to stay in the bathroom—yes, a black, human-like figure would appear through the gaps in the furniture and run right through her body and just disappear.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, the voices still echoed in her ears. She immediately approached Freen who was standing near the dining table with her eyes downcast and her left hand busy typing messages on her cell phone. Close enough, Becca patted her arm and tried to talk her out of it, so she could forget the evil voice that was trying to influence her.

The woman had changed into her clothes—in cream pants and a black T-shirt. A black blazer slung over her arm. Becca can smell the fragrance she wears even though they are quite far apart.

"Your phone might crack if you press your thumb like crazy. Who are you texting? Did that person make you angry?" she asked with a crooked smile, "But I'm not surprised. Every day you always look angry. So maybe that's one of your habits?"

Either because she was too focused on the problem she was dealing with so she lost focus on the real world and made her flinch almost choking because of Becca's voice and touch that suddenly appeared beside her, Freen groaned a little and turned off her cell phone, then turned her body to face the woman who was shorter than her.

"Have you finished showering? Give me your car keys. I'll drop you off at home before going to work." she asked.

Becca tilted her head. she didn't remember Freen having a band-aid stuck to her face—ah, how could she forget the scratch marks on her face? The band-aid looked like it had been freshly put on and she was sure the claw wound had dried up and was just a dark, dry scratch that wasn't an open wound that needed to be covered up. She didn't understand what Freen's purpose was in applying the band-aid to the scratch that was almost healed. Was she trying to cover something up or what?

But if you look more closely, there are dark stains attached to the band-aid she used. It looked like fresh blood was about to seep out. Worried, Becca raised her right hand and touched the side of Freen's face while standing on her tiptoes. "It's bleeding again. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I just accidentally scratched it with my fingernail," Freen touched Becca's hand and gently removed her touch from her face. She could feel the part of her face that had been touched by Becca heated up a little and it made her focus so much that she forgot that her hand was still touching Becca's fingers. Freen immediately let go and immediately shifted her gaze in another direction. "Uh, hmm... I—I want to see your father. If you're wondering why I suddenly asked to drive you. Besides, I feel the need to introduce myself now that you're living with me."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I can't let you go alone after someone tries to kill you out in the open. What they did could be worse than before if they wanted to."

Yes. She has the right points.

Becca shuddered at the image of splattered red blood dripping onto the sidewalk and the gore that soaked her clothes and made them sticky. She also still felt the extraordinary pain that suddenly appeared—it really hurt. She can't describe more unless you have a way to feel it yourself (trust me, no matter what happens, you can't feel the same way). Giving one last look at Freen—the woman was waiting for her answer—while realizing the reddish hue that rose in her ears that were slightly covered by her hair, Becca considered several things involving her safety until she finally came to a conclusion that sufficiently strengthened her reasons to accept Freen's offer.

"Okay, you win," Becca got up from where she stood to enter the room and took her car keys that were scattered on the nightstand. She gave it to Freen and she accepted it enthusiastically. "You don't have to stay long at my house. Just drop me in front of the fence and immediately go to the office. There are a few policemen standing by near the house, so I'll be safe."

"Stopping by to meet your parents shouldn't be a problem," Freen smiled knowingly. The woman then put on her blazer, walked over to the shoe rack, and sat down on the floor to put on a pair of black sneakers while waiting for Becca to change clothes in the room.

Less than ten minutes, Becca was done with her activities and walked out of the room to meet Freen who was waiting for her at the door. Becca's car was in the basement parking area—the last time Freen used her car to take her home from the hospital, she had chosen the basement area for security reasons because it was closed off with surveillance cameras in several corners.

So they need to use the elevator to go down a few more floors and exit in the basement parking area. All the way to the basement, Freen was the one who was the most active in keeping their conversation running smoothly. She always has interesting topics of conversation and keeps Becca from getting bored and bored of responding. Usually Becca wasn't too keen on long, time-consuming chats. But she didn't feel that way while chatting with Freen.

It's a little strange because they've only known each other for a few weeks with the initial meeting leaving a negative impression, then being involved in incidents several times to reveal the fact that Freen is a former captain with quite gloomy behavior in the world of police. Who would have thought that Beccca would actually fit in with this woman? You could even say that she's starting to think of Freen as an older brother who can both protect her and be a good coworker.

But still, that can't make Becca's vigilance and suspicion towards her just disappear.

A car alarm sounded in the distance as Freen pressed the button to unlock the car. A bright yellow light flashed briefly before disappearing again. That was enough to tell where Becca's car was and the two of them immediately walked over to it. However, something near the hood of the car made Freen's steps suddenly stop. The woman stretched out her right hand, asking Becca to stop too and stand behind her.

"What the—huh?"

Freen winced, while Becca was taken aback. The white package with dark spots on it made Becca's hands tremble so that she unconsciously squeezed Freen's arm and pulled her closer. "What is that thing? Why is there such plastic wrap on the hood of the car?" she hissed, her way of speaking faltering slightly with shock.

"Rebecca, please make sure no one else but us is here," Freen said. Her hands seemed to be in her trouser pockets, she took out black rubber gloves and put them on with a glance while walking towards the mysterious plastic bag.

Becca without saying anything immediately grabbed a wooden stick that was lying behind one of the parked cars. She led her around the basement parking area and quickly returned to Freen near her car. Leaning a wooden stick against a solid concrete pillar, Becca ventured to look at the contents of the plastic bag Freen had placed on the cold basement floor.

The plastic had been unwrapped and Freen looked at it with a doubtful look. Freen's gaze made Becca feel that she shouldn't be looking at whatever was in the bag. And sure enough, once she got close enough, Becca immediately recognized the stench that immediately made her sick. The dark spots that appear from the outside of the plastic bag are apparently blood spots that have started to oxidize and decompose.

Inside the plastic is a rotten hand with a piece of paper that says you are like a dog running away from its owner in red ink and several Polaroid photographs. That's right, another Polaroid photo.

Becca's heart seemed to be pulled downwards, sinking into an invisible black hole and making her heart squeeze crazily inside there. Emotional shocks as well as fear made her body go limp and freeze. In her mind there is only one; the absolute horror caused by the insane object in front of her, as well as proof that the psychopath has managed to find her new hiding place.

Plus, the threats she's getting are becoming more and more real—and that's what makes her more scared now. Previously, the killer always gave some polaroids and a letter. But now, both kinds of things came along with rotten human bits and pieces.

This... don't tell me if they killed another person, then left them to rot somewhere? Becca hissed, shuddering slightly at the horrible image that suddenly appeared in her head. She tugged at the hem of Freen's jacket, trying to get her attention. "Freen, we have to do something." she hissed.

"I know," the woman replied. She immediately tied the plastic bag to avoid the stench from spreading further. Besides that, she also didn't want Becca to see more clearly what was in it. "I'm taking this to the office to check. Maybe... with this we can lure Heng, too."

"Let me come with you!" Becca answered. "I can't just sit while the police are struggling to find this psycho. Here... there's a surveillance camera. We can start by checking the surveillance camera footage to find out who put the plastic on top of my car!"

"I told you, leave everything to me, Rebecca Armstrong!" Freen replied in a rather high voice that made her flinch in surprise. She herself seemed to be surprised too because she accidentally made a sound too loud. So she chose to remain silent and held her breath for a moment—indeed, she was also a little panicked now—before finally continuing her sentence, "Don't be too hasty and don't act rashly. In my opinion, this is a real threat as well as a sign that no matter how far you try to hide from her, she will still find you. In other words, the real war had already begun. You are the main target here, and if you want to keep playing without getting yourself killed, you have to stay underground."

"No... you can't. I can't..."

"Hey, you have to consider your psychological state. We still don't know what disorder you're experiencing! You can't force yourself to go out there and see things that actually make your disorder worse and harder to cure! No, we don't want that kind of thing to happen, right?" Freen confirmed. "The only safe way if you still want to help is undercover. Don't worry, I will help you. I promise."

Becca bit her lower lip. Anxiety still did not disappear from her chest. That feeling instead felt like a lump resembling an invisible solid object that clogged her every blood flow and made her want to strangle her own neck. She could barely think, but Freen's statement just now kept swirling in her mind.

She couldn't run away and hide anymore. She can only go forward and welcome what comes next, including making herself bait when necessary. No matter how much she wants to catch this psychopath, she still can't do it openly as long as Saint holds her duty permit and gun as her only means of defense.

At that time, she was already on the right path and almost got a clue. Unfortunately, she failed because someone almost killed her.

After all, how could that psychopath know where she lived now? Is there a tracking device embedded in her cell phone or is one of the residents of this apartment an accomplice to the psychopath?

"Becca," came the low voice again. The short-haired woman then turned around very carefully. She still held the sheets of letters and plastic packages containing the severed pale-skinned hands even though her hands were shaking violently. Freen's voice was the only thing keeping her awake. She said in a low voice, inclined to command as well as wary, "Hurry in and leave. We cannot linger here."

***

The trip to the Armstrong family's house apparently took longer than the estimated time on Google Maps. This was the first time Freen had actually come to the venue because she had always been monitoring from afar. Who would have thought that the path to get there was more confusing than she had imagined.

Previously, in the car, they had agreed to hide the finding of the severed hand and the new threatening letter that Becca had gotten from the psychopath to avoid panic in the Armstrong Family. It's hard enough to act like nothing happened after what happened, but since they always have to act professionally, they inevitably need to manage their emotions and facial expressions.

Freen drove the car at low speed and actually stopped the car right in front of a large house with tall black gates surrounded by stone walls that were the same height. She estimated the height of the iron gate and stone walls to be around 10 meters. It's quite high and it seems difficult to climb unless you use a special tool.

Two security guards came out of the guardhouse outside the gate and approached the car. Freen rolled down the window and greeted the two officers politely while showing them their police identification cards. Becca also greeted them and it seemed that the two officers recognized her so they were immediately allowed in without going through inspection procedures first.

The car was parked in the yard, right beside a white Porsche that looked like it had just been cleaned. After tidying up and spraying perfume on their clothes more than four times each, the two of them got out of the car and walked towards the main door.

Mr and Mrs Armstrong seemed to have been waiting for them. The married couple stood together in unison from the living room chairs and walked to the main door to welcome their youngest daughter whom they had long missed. Mrs. Armstrong immediately hugged Becca tightly and almost cried when she found out about her daughter's condition, who was injured in the neck.

Freen could only smile seeing that moment of family warmth. She had felt it, a long time ago, when she was so little. Now she has forgotten what it feels like to be in a perfect family and seeing the happy moments of the Armstrong Family in front of her now manages to make her heart melt.

"First Lieutenant Sarocha Chankimha. I'm a new recruit in the investigation team led by Rebecca," Freen introduced herself with a sweet smile on her lips. Her right hand was extended, intending to give Mr and Mrs Armstrong a warm handshake. "I've been waiting for this day to come. It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Armstrong. I know from the headlines that your company has succeeded in attracting investors from Japan, right? Reportedly this person has a special connection with the main director of Hitsubishi."

Mr. Armstrong shook Freen's hand for a few seconds. He replied, "Oh, to think that a officer like you would also follow such news. It's true, the investor is the younger brother of Hitsubishi's main director. We deliberately invited him into business partnership with them for a reason, you know?" he laughed crisply and Freen nodded in understanding. Mr. Armstrong then led them into the drawing-room and summoned several servants to serve them some food and drinks. "Thank you for looking after Rebecca. She is really at her hardest point now and I am a little calmer because I know someone is always there for her."

Freen smiled. She glanced at Becca who was sitting beside her briefly before replying, "We are colleagues as well as friends. So I guess taking care of Rebecca is something I have to do. After all, she helps me enough that I feel like my life is easier when she's around me."

Sighing, Becca replied, "Actually, no. Freen helped me more. She gave me permission to stay in her apartment for a while and she also took care of me when I, uh, yeah... got hurt. This wound on my neck could have been fatal if Freen hadn't come at that time."

Mrs. Armstrong took a deep breath. Her gaze turned difficult when she saw the bandage wrapped around her daughter's neck. "They... nearly killed you. Is there no significant progress regarding this case? The situation has reached emergency status, I think."

Four servants came with the food and drink that had been requested. They placed everything neatly on the table and bowed before leaving the living room.

"We have arrested the person who assaulted Becca the other day and she is currently being questioned. The police who betrayed and attempted to murder Becca have also been interrogated and the suspected accomplices of the perpetrators in the forensic team have also been detained. This case involves a lot of insiders so we have to be careful when handling it," Freen replied. She tried to explain everything in as much detail as possible without divulging something that should be a secret.

Becca nodded, "That psychopath uses the letters of our surname, Armstrong, to find her victims. All the threatening letters and polaroid photos she sent me are enough proof that our family has something to do with this case. Because of that, I always thought... do you and Mom have some serious unresolved issues with someone?"

"As a businessman, of course there are many people who hold grudges against me. But I'm sure they're not the kind of people who would take revenge by setting up a series of serial killers like this to destroy the Armstrong Family. I don't want to defend them, but I'm one hundred percent sure the perpetrators you're looking for are not from the business community."

"Even if one of the people you suspect uses the services of an assassin to do everything?" Freen interjected with a question. She managed to make Mr. Armstrong's eyebrows furrow deeply.

Minute after minute of silence followed Freen's reply. Mr. Armstrong didn't give an answer right away because he looked deep in thought with his arms folded across his chest. She don't know what he was thinking, but it was clear he was trying to remember something he had long forgotten. Until finally his gaze that was originally fixed on the glass of drink that was on the table suddenly changed and turned to Freen's face—the man was a bit wide-eyed and gasped for a split second.

Becca probably didn't notice the change in expression that happened very, very quickly just now. But Freen was completely aware of that. Whatever Mr. Armstrong remembered, it must have been so important that he was shocked to see Freen's face. Only, Freen didn't understand what it was.

"Well, whatever the odds, we place all our trust in the police. We will continue to assist to the best of our ability, if necessary." Mr. Armstrong finally said. "By the way Sarocha, if you want to confirm anything I will ask my secretary to send the contact information of the people I was referring to. Though I'm sure they're not involved in this case."

Freen nodded firmly. A feeling of joy rose in her heart when Mr. Armstrong confirmed that he would cooperate. With that, her business here was almost done. Glancing at the watch on her right hand, realizing that she had more important things to do besides deliver Becca safely to her residence, Freen decided to stand up and say goodbye.

The severed hand in the plastic bag could have gotten worse the longer it was left. If so, then the extraction of DNA will be more difficult because the particles become slightly damaged.

"Actually, I'd like to talk to you about a lot of things, Mr. Armstrong. But I have other interests at work. The Criminal Profiler we work with came to the office because we are going to discuss the progress of the case," she stood up from her seat politely. Her gaze then fell on Becca "You'd better stay here until I pick you up tonight." Freen said as she smoothed the light creases on her blazer.

"Oh, okay. You can take my car, then."

Freen smiled and patted Becca's shoulder gently. The woman then stepped past her because she was about to say goodbye to Becca's parents—deliberately leaving a good impression in front of them because she was sure they would interact more often in the future. Especially now that their youngest daughter is in the same apartment as her.

"Please, take care of yourself, Sarocha. Our house is always open for you if you want to stop by. Richard should be here to greet you, but too bad he's currently representing our company in Canada." Mrs. Armstrong pulled Freen's tall body in a brief embrace. She also rubbed her back lightly and made the young lieutenant blush slightly. "Richard is Becca's older brother, in case you were wondering."

Older brother? Oh, that's right. I remember Becca mentioning Richie's name a few weeks ago. "He seems like a busy man, huh? Please convey my greetings to him." she replied.

Before following the maid who would escort her to the main door, Freen waved at Becca and raised her car keys as a sign that she would be taking her beloved car for the next few hours. Becca gave a curt nod, then watched Freen's back slip away from her gaze.

"Becca, do you have a close relationship with that woman?" just after Freen disappeared behind the closed front door, Mr. Armstrong asked. The man's gaze was still fixed on the door that did not move an inch.

Becca nodded, although she was a bit doubtful whether her relationship with Freen could be considered close or not. But considering that they spent quite a lot of time together and even lived together in the same apartment unit, she could categorize their relationship as close enough to be considered a friendship.

Seeing her daughter's answer, Mr. Armstrong let out a rough breath. "I see." The man then got up from his chair and headed towards the window, opening the curtains slightly to peek out. Becca's car, which was originally parked neatly in the yard, is now gone. The car barely made a sound so she didn't know that Freen had left the house earlier.

"What is it? Did you feel that something was off when you met Freen?" Becca tried asking. "She has an ominous aura surrounding her. When I first met her, she didn't say good things and intimidated me a little with those cold eyes. So I think it's only natural that you felt uncomfortable when you met her earlier."

Mr. Armstrong snorted, "Somehow, I feel familiar with her face."

Becca suddenly looked up. Not expecting the father's answer at all. Okay, okay. That's natural, because her father is getting old and Freen's face is the type of face that you often see in several places in Thailand. Should she be worried now? No? It should be. But the next words her father uttered really hit her heart hard.

"I think you need to be a little careful when with her. I totally understand that you think Freen is a good person, but... I just feels something unnatural about her."