A young boy, he couldn't have been older than twelve. He stood there in a soaked hoodie with his sneakers squelching against the hallway floor. His eyes darted past her, scanning the room.
"A-a-are you… mi-mi-Mister Caleb?" the boy asked.
Jessie said nothing. The boy thrust a folded scrap of paper into her hand, his small fingers felt icy against her palm.
"Someone said I should tell you 'It's from the old man,'" he said. "He also said uhhhh… it's urgent."
Before she could ask, he turned and bolted down the hall, disappearing into the stairwell.
Jessie unfolded the paper. The ink had bled in the rain, but the words were still legible enough:
[I think I know who killed my wife. Come alone at midnight. Dock 7.]
But it was the handwriting that froze her it was angular, like someone who bent his neck while writing, deliberate, a style she hadn't seen in years.
It was her father's.
Her pulse roared in her ears. She didn't need to ask which "girl" the note meant. She knew it was her. Her mother—Natasha.
Her stomach clenched like it had back in the swamp.
'Is this a trap? Or… was this the first time in years he was reaching out directly?' she thought, 'No, that's not possible, nobody knows I am a reincarnated person… arrrrrgh' she had a brief but cute mental breakdown in her little mind space.
The woman stepped closer, breathing on her neck and reading over her shoulder without shame. "Dock 7? Sounds like a setup."
Jessie folded the note before the woman could read further. "It's nothing. Just a client I colluded with some time ago."
The woman's eyebrow lifted. "You're a terrible liar, but I like this side of you, you know…"
Jessie didn't answer. 'Hmph! Wicked female antics, acting cute and all' She knew it all, she was once a girl too. She just moved toward the small table, slipping the note into her pocket.
She looked at the ticking clock, midnight came faster than she had expected.
The rain hadn't let up, so she decided to dive deep into this body's memories.
'Where exactly is this… Dock seven?'
As she thought deeply about it, trying to remember an incident she didn't experience herself. It was a surreal experience but the memories came anyways.
Dock 7 was a skeletal row of shipping containers with rust peeling like old scabs. The air stank of oil and wet rope. Oh! And also of sweaty, bulky men dragging anchors around.
She moved carefully with her every sense alert.
In the far shadows, a figure stood under the half-dead glow of a single lamppost.
Tall, broad-shouldered and Coat collar turned up against the rain.
Her breath caught. She knew that stance.
'Aura farming and all…' she had thought.
"Dad?" she said before she could stop herself.
The figure's head turned slowly. His face came into the light it was older, wearier than she remembered, but those eyes were the same.
"You're late," he said.
Jessie swallowed. "You knew I'd come."
"I wasn't sure," he replied, voice as unreadable as always. Then: "You're in trouble, Caleb."
*PSSSSHHH*
'Caleb' she thought. The name hit like ice water. He didn't know. He didn't see Jessie inside this man's body. It was weird for her, heart breaking even, seeing her father not recognize his daughter in front of him.
She didn't blame him. She couldn't, she was in a man's body after all.
So she decided to clear it up, he was her dad after all, who else could she tell if she couldn't tell her own father.
She ignored the memory of her leaving her father's house at the time and she took a step forward. "It's not Caleb. It's—"
*BANG!!!*
The gunshot cut her off.
The sound cracked across the dock, echoing off metal and water.
Her father flinched, turning toward the source while Jessie dropped behind a container as a second shot rang out, *BANG!!!*
Splinters of wood flew near her head. This was the first time she had experienced such a chaotic scene, so even Caleb's muscle memory couldn't override her will at this point.
She peeked from behind where she was hiding as she saw, 'Someone else is here'.
"Run!" her father barked, drawing his own weapon.
DUM DUM
Jessie's heart pounded. Run toward him? Or away? Every instinct — hers and Caleb's — screamed at her to move, but in opposite directions.
'Where to, where to, where to…'
In the chaos, she locked eyes with him once more. And for the briefest moment, she thought she saw it, not warmth, not pity… but fear.
Fear for her… or him?
She didn't remember how she got back to the cramped room. The rain, the dock, the gunshots, everything blurred altogether.
What stayed clear was that look in her father's eyes. Printed in her memory.
And the single truth she couldn't ignore; if he could fear for someone else… then maybe, just maybe, he still cared for her.
She really wished to think that his emotions were directed towards her in the memory, but she knew now was not the time to be delusional…
But if that was true, what kind of relationship did her father have with Caleb?
She stared at Caleb's hands again. They looked steady now. Too steady.
And for the first time, she wondered if this body could handle the truth she was about to chase.
And whether she'd survive it.