The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 187

Back at the precinct, Rhys visited the traffic monitoring center that evening.

His expression was grim, prompting the officers around him to keep a respectful distance.

The wall of screens displayed real-time footage from various intersections across Brighton City, including the road leading away from the Western Cemetery.

He just stood there, staring.

"What's wrong with Captain Huntington?"

"I don't know, but don't provoke him."

Eventually, someone decided the standoff couldn't last forever. A young traffic officer summoned his courage and edged closer. "Captain Huntington, which area are you looking for?"

Rhys didn't answer. His gaze slid to another screen—internal records, the kind used for ID and address lookups.

The young officer caught the hint and asked again, "Captain Huntington, do you need to run a background check on someone?"

Rhys waved his hand dismissively.

"What does that mean?" the officer whispered to his colleague.

The colleague shook his head, baffled.

Noticing Rhys's fixation on the cemetery road, the young officer had a sudden epiphany. Emboldened, he asked, "Are you looking for surveillance footage? Was there a hit-and-run? Do we need to track a suspect?"

Rhys remained silent.

He knew that with his clearance level and personal connections, finding someone's address—or even their real-time location—would be child's play.

He was anxious. He was restless.

He desperately wanted to know if Clara was safe, if she was eating properly, or if the rain had made her sick.

But...

"She does not wish to be disturbed in any way."

Daniel's words weighed heavily on his heart, filling him with apprehension.

He had frightened her today, and she had seen that scene at the cemetery. She would only hate him more. If he abused his power to track her down and she found out, how would she react? Appearing rashly now would serve no purpose other than to deepen her disgust.

He made his judgment:

It was pointless.

He knew Clara wasn't inside, but he stopped the car anyway. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.

Through the curling smoke, he looked up at the familiar third-floor window.

The light was dim, and a silhouette was cast against the curtains.

Rhys froze and immediately stubbed out his cigarette.

The silhouette stood there for a moment before the curtains were drawn tight, and the faint light was extinguished.

Inside the third-floor apartment.

In the darkness, Clara's dad peeked through the gap in the curtains at the SUV downstairs and sighed.

"Is he gone?" Clara's mom asked.

Her husband fumbled his way back to the bed and sat down, shaking his head. "No. He's still stalling down there."

Clara's mom turned over, her voice thick with emotion. "Why bother now? If he had spared even one percent of this effort for Clara when she was here, things wouldn't have come to this."

"He only regrets it now. It's too late," she added bitterly.