Kidnapped by the Bear: A Paranormal Romance

by Mia Wolf

  I shake my head and close my eyes.

  “Are you just saying that because it would be an inconvenience for me?” Violet asks, and I shake my head again. “I’ll get you a latte,” she says and places the paperwork in her hand on my table before she leaves.

  I sigh because I feel guilty, yet don’t have the energy to go after her and contradict her. I watch some more footage, but still don’t see anything or anyone that might be connected to the stolen designs.

  Violet comes back ten minutes later with the latte and hands it to me. I thank her profusely and when I take the first sip, I feel eternally grateful that I have her as my assistant. The coffee immediately wakes me up. I feel a sudden burst of energy coursing through me and I spring into action. By action, I mean sitting upright in my uncomfortable chair and watching the CCTV footage where nothing at all happens. But I’m much more focused now. The video is on double speed so all of the movements are too fast-paced. It’s easy to miss something.

  I almost spit out my coffee when something happens in the footage. It passes just as quickly as it came. I rewind it, then play it back. There’s a silhouette of a man walking into the building at 3 p.m. The figure is hunched, but it’s easy to tell that it’s a bulky man. He’s covering his head with a coat as he walks into the building. I quickly look through the files and find the tape of the camera on the second floor where A3 is, the room where the designs were, and run the footage up to 3 p.m.

  The same man crosses the hallway and goes into the room. But something is off. The man doesn’t walk into the room, he only eyes it and passes it by. I immediately add two and two. It makes sense; A3 is the only room in the building that’s locked!

  I open the left drawer of my desk and see the key to room A3 safely placed right where I had left it. Not only did the man in the footage know that the designs were in room A3, but he also knew that the key to the room would be in my desk. How did he manage to get that information?

  I have been pondering over who could possibly want to steal my designs. But I haven’t been able to come up with a credible answer. All of the names that come to my mind I brush aside. They’re all established designers in the field. Sure, they can be lying, conniving, and scheming, but they wouldn’t steal my designs. It wouldn’t get them anything. Besides, the man in the camera footage doesn’t look like anyone I know.

  Fifteen minutes pass by and I clearly see the man go inside room A3 and come out five minutes later with a paper in his hand. My heart races knowing that I’m so close to finding the culprit. I can finally breathe easily after days of panic and stress.

  I zoom in on the second-floor camera because the footage from it is the clearest. I pause the video and stare at the man’s frame on the screen. He has a jacket over his head which seems to be made out of leather. I know dozens of people who wear a leather jacket. The man’s pot belly is clearly visible, too. But that doesn’t tell me anything either. I repeat the same process over and over again on other parts of the footage. I zoom in on the guy and freeze the frame. I take the last sip of my coffee and feel disappointed that I drank all of it; I could use another one. Is it too late to get one? I check the time on my phone, it’s 11 p.m. There are half a dozen texts from Warren.

  “Where are you?”

  “How long will it take?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “I think I’m going to eat something.”

  “What are you doing? I’m getting seriously worried.”

  “Ashley, answer me please. What’s going on?”

  Then there are four missed calls. I feel bad that he’s so worried about me so I call him up while still looking at the silhouette of the man. Something hits me as soon as Warren picks up. Something I had missed before. There’s a band on the man’s hand; he’s holding his jacket over his head and I can clearly make out that he’s wearing a black colored band, about half an inch wide. There’s only one man I know who wears that. Fear courses through me in an instant.

  Enslaved by debilitating fear, I manage to choke something out to Warren. “The designs,” I say. “It’s Steve.”

  The phone drops from my hand and everything goes dark.

  Chapter 33 – Warren

  I’m in Ashley’s house waiting for her to come home. I’m getting increasingly worried. She’s not responding to my messages or returning my calls. I walk through the house restlessly trying to look for a distraction. It’s probably nothing, I tell myself. She’s probably just working late and so caught up in her work that she doesn’t hear her phone.

  I sit down in her home office, a space that I haven’t really been in before and rest my head in my hands. I stare at the carpet, thinking about her, about how much I miss her even though I saw her this morning.

  She’s the one I want to tell all my secrets to. Maybe even my last one. Even though it scares me to death that it will be the one to drive her away.

  I notice that something’s stuck under the desk, and I push it aside a little to see what it is. It’s a picture of us, Ashley and me. We’re looking at the camera and smiling with bright faces. It’s from so far back that I have to think hard to even remember it. But it brings a smile to my face because that day, we were obviously happy.

  Ashley’s hair looks different from now; it’s straight and black, like it is now, but there’s a sheen to her hair now that it didn’t have before. Her face is thinner, she barely ate back then. But her eyes are the same, the same bright brown that contains the entirety of the world. Her nose is the same, too. Just crooked enough that it makes her look adorable. I, on the other hand, look like a world of possibilities is ahead of me. And there was, back in those days. I had everything to look forward to.

  I had recently graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in automobile engineering from the best college in the entire country, and already had a job in my hand before I even stepped out of university. I had a beautiful girlfriend, and we were in love. What did I not have back then? That stupid grin, that wishful optimism in my eyes, it all faded eventually. I look up and see the faint shadow of my face in the window. My eyes look dark and dull and it’s not entirely the fault of poor lighting.

  That was one of the last happy days we spent together. We started rough but we pulled each other out of the darkness. Well, Ashley was the one who was suffering back then. She really had a hard time. But I was happy to help in whatever way I could.

  And then things got better, we both became happy. For a while, until it all went crashing down. Now that I think about it, breaking up with Ashley is what started that long reign of darkness in my life.

  I look at the picture again, and I can that there was darkness in both of us. But not that day, that day we were pure light.

  I think it was my birthday that we were celebrating, I didn’t go home for Christmas because I wanted to spend my birthday with Ashley. She insisted we could both go to my place, but I refused. I don’t know what it was about home, but I always wanted to run away. It’s a shame because my parents did truly love me. I’ve not regretted anything more in life than not valuing the love they kept giving me until the day they died. I couldn’t give them much in return.

  The memories of the day the picture was taken are slowly coming back to me. That day, Ashley and I decided to go to the mall and hang around there. Not fancy; we could’ve done something better but back then all we really wanted was each other’s company. In the beginning of our relationship, I don’t think we were very healthily attached to each other, but in the aftermath of so many disasters, I think we’ve managed to turn the relationship into a positive one. If not for her, I would still be drinking myself to death.

  We went around the mall, window shopping, eating junk food and drinking cheap alcohol. Then we went to the photo booth to commemorate the occasion. I didn’t know at the time that I’d be putting one of the happiest days of my life onto a piece of paper forever. And here it is in my hands again, making me relive that day as if it were yesterday.

  I try to keep
the memory alive just a little bit longer. I should’ve cherished those days more, lived a little more, laughed a lot more. Those days I stupidly worried about grades and internships and money. And now, none of it really matters.

  My phone suddenly vibrates and I jump up. Finally.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” I shout, but she chokes out only a few words.

  “The designs—it’s Steve.”

  When the phone call cuts, I quickly step into motion. Something’s the matter. I run to Ashley’s car and fire it up; luckily her driver parked it here after his shift was done. On my way to her office, I try to call her again, but she doesn’t pick up. I try to call Rose next, and after a few calls, she finally picks up.

  “The designs, it’s Steve,” I say. “That’s what Ashley said on the phone before the call disconnected. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Steve? As in Steve Parera?” she asks.

  “Could be. Is there any other Steve Ashley knows?” I ask driving as fast as I can while still being within the speed limit. “I’m heading to Ashley’s office. I think that’s where she is. Maybe her phone simply went dead. Or maybe—” I don’t let myself finish the thought in my head.

  “I can go to Steve’s office and check if the designs are there,” Rose says.

  “How will you get into his office at this time?” I ask.

  “I still have a key to his office,” Rose says. “I was supposed to have a little goodbye party there next week and I’d also give the key back then. I’m not sure how likely it is that the designs are in his office, though, but I can at least try. If he’s smart, he’s taken them home or something. But knowing Steve, he takes risks sometimes. Are you sure, Ashley said it’s Steve?” Rose asks in disbelief.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Why?”

  “Because he’s supposed to be her friend,” Rose explains. There is a hint of disgust in her voice. “He’s also supposed to be a decent human being.”

  “They rarely are,” I say. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, text me if you find something out.”

  I’m almost at Regal’s office. I pull into the parking lot once I reach it and notice that there’s no one at the security desk. I make a mental note to tell Ashley that they should fire them and hire new people. I run upstairs to where I think Ashley’s office is. I vaguely remember Rose telling me the floor. Luckily, it doesn’t take me much time to find an office door saying “Ashley Wang” on a pristine metal plate. I throw the door open but the room is empty. There’s an open computer on the desk, the TV is switched off, and everything is neatly in its place as if nothing happened here.

  I try to call Ashley again but there’s no answer. I text Rose and tell her that.

  “Ashley’s not in her office. I think something happened to her.” Rose’s reply comes soon after.

  “Go to room A3 on the second floor and check to see if any more designs are stolen. The key must be in Ashley’s drawer. Text me when you’re in A3, I’ll tell you what to look for.”

  “Shouldn’t we look for Ashley first?”

  “We don’t know where to look, Warren. If Steve was the one who stole the designs then it’s likely that he knows where Ashley is. Or worse, he has Ashley.”

  I’m not exactly ready to accept that circumstance, I follow Rose’s instructions and check the desk drawers for a key. I open the right one and find a hoard of papers, paperclips, colors, pens, and a bunch of other stationary and papers. Everything is helter-skelter which is quite unlike Ashley. Perhaps, someone went through the drawer recently. I check the drawer on the other side and find two different keys. I take both then run out to the second floor of the building. Room A3 is at the corner of the corridor and is a massive room with an unusually high ceiling and unnerving aesthetic, at least from what I can see in the dark and through the glass door. I try the first key but it doesn’t work. I try the second one. Bingo.

  There’s a large white desk in the center of the room, a cupboard on the left, and a smaller desk in one corner with two chairs on its either side.

  I text Rose that I’m inside A3 then wait for her to reply. I try calling Ashley again in case she picks up. Every time she doesn’t my heart starts beating a little faster.

  “Check the smaller desk. The drawer on the right has some sketches. Twenty three in total. Count them and see if anything’s missing,” says the text.

  I walk over to the smaller desk and sink into the chair. It smells like Ashley and I instantly miss her. Focus, I command my brain and open the drawer as Rose asked me to. I’m surprised to find that it’s empty. I check the other drawer. Maybe Rose made a mistake in her instructions; maybe she meant the left drawer. I open the other drawer. It holds some more paraphernalia like the drawer in Ashley’s office but no sketches.

  I report back to Rose. “There are no sketches. Also, where are you?”

  “ALL THE SKETCHES ARE GONE? Do you know how hard we worked on those?”

  “I’m not the one who took them, Rose,” I remind her. It’s quite unnecessary. We’re both a little on edge.

  “Where are you and what are you doing?” I ask her. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, too.”

  “I’m almost at Steve’s office,” she texts back.

  I lock the door of A3 and go back to Ashley’s office to check if there’s some clue as to what might have happened there.

  There’s a part of my brain that is laser-focused and sharp, and then there’s this other part that’s distraught and wants to crumble right away. I am not ready to lose Ashley yet, we were only just beginning to enjoy our time together. Why am I thinking in past tense already? I shake the stupid thoughts out of my head because they’re not helpful.

  “Okay, I’m in,” Rose’s text reads as I switch on the TV. A bizarre picture of a man is on the screen, it’s zoomed in and seems to be from a surveillance camera. That must be Steve.

  “Hey Rose, does Steve Parera have much belly fat?” I text her.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Then it must be him. He has the designs.”

  Then it hits me, it’s that man that I saw the first night I saw Ashley again. He’s the one who gave her the panic attack. Rage rises up to my throat and a growl leaves my mouth. My hands are almost turning into claws and fur is starting to spread over my skin. It’s okay; when I see him, I won’t hold back. I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands. Or with my claws, whatever’s necessary. But for now, I need to find Ashley.

  My phone buzzes and I check it as quickly as I can. “It’s him. I found the designs in his office. It’s Steve. They were just lying there, I can’t believe how careless he is,” reads the text.

  “Let’s go to the police,” I text her back. “He’s caught on camera.”

  I put the phone away and scan Ashley’s office for anything else that might be helpful in finding out where she is. I call Ashley’s phone once again, even though I know that she won’t answer it.

  Her office looks so much like her that I’m reminded of her touch, her smell, and the way her straight hair falls on her back in perfect lines. I hug the air in front of me.

  Ashley’s desk looks clean with only some essential things lying on it. The computer is still open. I sit on the large chair—that looks more like a throne than an actual chair and is actually quite uncomfortable to sit on—and check Ashley’s computer. I feel a little weird about breaking into her computer without her knowing, but the only screen that’s open is the folder with all the CCTV footage. I shut the computer, thereby turning off the only light source on the entire floor. I take out my phone to turn on the flashlight, but before I can do so, it vibrates. It’s a text from Rose.

  “She never once treated me badly. I literally owe everything I have done and made to her. We’re going to find out who did this to her,” the text reads.

  It makes me think of how Ashley treats me. She used to treat me with misplaced anger sometimes, but these days, she doesn’t treat me all that bad, I think to myself as I chuckle a little. Then there are these
other times when she treats me with so much love that I can’t contain it, more love than I deserve.

  “Where are you? Are you okay? Do you want me to come pick you up?” I send a barrage of questions to Rose, one after the other.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just—”

  “Just?”

  “If I hadn’t found her and if I hadn’t found Andrew, I wouldn’t have been able to continue for much longer.”

  As I read the words, I feel a hole opening up in my chest. I foolishly thought that leaving everything behind hurt me the most. When in reality, it hurt Rose, too. And now I don’t know how to fix it to make her feel better.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. I should’ve been there for you.”

  “You should’ve.”

  I stare at my bright phone screen standing in the dark room, and for a brief moment I wonder if I made the right decision to come back.

  “You should’ve but don’t think that I was better off without you. You are the only family I have left, don’t get any more stupid thoughts in your head. It means a world of difference now that you’re back. I don’t know if you feel the same.”

  I do. Of course, I do. Knowing that there is a place that you can always run to—there’s nothing in the world that can replace that.

  “I feel the same, Rose. I’m still sorry that I didn’t come sooner, but I’m here now and we can be there for each other. And we’re going to find Ashley. So don’t you worry.”

  I turn on the flashlight and look around Ashley’s drawers and desk for anything that might give me hints as to where she might be, but I don’t see anything. My phone pings again.

  “I found something weird.”

  Rose sends me pictures of about a dozen photos of Ashley, some of them of Ashley alone and others where she’s with me. Some of them are photos that shouldn’t have been taken at all.