BETWEEN THE LINES

The message on Kamon's wall wouldn’t wash off.

He’d tried everything detergent, bleach, even a paint scraper. Still, the ghost of the red words clung stubbornly to the wall like a curse.

He stared at it again, arms crossed, shirtless in the dim kitchen light.

"Detective. If you don’t stop looking, you’ll see too much."

He didn’t know what pissed him off more that someone had invaded his home, or that they'd made it personal.

His phone vibrated on the counter.

Phupha: "He’s spiraling. Meet us. 10PM. Rooftop bar, Soi 11. Trust me."

Kamon rubbed a hand over his face. Trust was hard to give especially to men like Phupha, who wielded charm like a weapon. But something about that message... and the way the stalker operated... told him the trap was already closing.

If they didn’t bait it soon, they’d all be the ones bleeding.

---

The rooftop bar pulsed with low music and the haze of incense. Phupha leaned against the railing with a drink, eyes on the skyline. Anurak stood near him, still and silent, dressed in black, looking like he belonged more at a funeral than a cocktail lounge.

Kamon joined them, nodding to both. “You sure this isn’t a date?”

“Only if you're jealous,” Phupha teased.

Kamon ignored the jab. “What's the plan?”

Phupha handed him a flash drive. “Someone accessed Kanlaya’s hospital terminal hours before her death. I had a friend in IT trace the login. It came from inside the hospital but not her department. Palliative records. Falsified charts. One of them is Supat Wongchai.”

Anurak's jaw clenched. “I never touched that record.”

“Exactly,” Phupha said. “So who did?”

Kamon looked at the drive, then at Anurak. “Someone's setting you up from inside.”

Anurak’s gaze darkened. “Then I want to know who. And why.”

Phupha finished his drink. “We go in tonight. Quiet. I have a pass.”

Kamon raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to break into a government hospital?”

Phupha smirked. “Only a little.”

---

The hospital at 2:17 a.m. was a different creature dim corridors, flickering lights, nurses sleeping upright at desks. Anurak led them through back halls he knew intimately, their footsteps hushed.

They reached the records wing.

“Three minutes,” Phupha whispered, kneeling at the terminal.

Anurak stood watch, eyes scanning every shadow.

Kamon leaned close. “You always break laws this easily?”

Phupha whispered, “Only the ones that need breaking.”

A file opened. Kamon's eyes narrowed.

“What's that?” he asked.

“Video logs,” Phupha said. “Night shifts. The night Supat died.”

He clicked play.

The grainy footage showed Supat’s room dim, silent.

Then, movement.

Not Anurak.

Someone in scrubs, smaller. Female? No badge.

The figure moved to Supat’s IV, adjusted something, then… smiled at the camera.

Paused.

And held up a sign:

“Mercy is not for everyone.”

Phupha whispered, “What the actual fuck?”

---

Outside, in the car, the air was thick with tension.

“She knew the cameras were there,” Kamon said. “She wanted to be seen. But not identified.”

“She’s making it a game,” Anurak murmured. “And I’m the scapegoat.”

Kamon shook his head. “Not just you. She’s dismantling your credibility, your ethics, your life. And now mine too.”

Phupha looked between them. “We have to go deeper. We need to bait her.”

Kamon sighed. “That’s risky.”

“So is waiting for another body.”

A long silence followed. Then Anurak, voice steady: “Use me.”

Both men turned.

“What?” Kamon asked.

“Put me on a list,” Anurak said. “Let it leak. Say I’m under surveillance. She’s watching. She’ll panic. Make a move.”

Kamon looked at him for a long moment. “You’re not afraid of dying?”

Anurak’s smile was bitter. “I’ve already lost more than life can take.”

---

Later that night, back in Anurak’s condo, Phupha stayed behind while Kamon left to draft the official leak.

Rain battered the windows again.

“I shouldn't be here,” Phupha said, peeling off his wet jacket.

“You are.”

“I don’t sleep with sources.”

“Then don’t call me one.”

Anurak moved closer, eyes unreadable.

Phupha whispered, “This is a bad idea.”

“I’ve lived with ghosts long enough. Tonight, I need something real.”

And when their mouths met, it wasn’t fireworks. It was thunder hungry and quiet and aching. Flesh seeking solace. Hands gripping bruises only time could see.

It wasn’t about love.

Not yet.

It was about survival.

And maybe that was the most honest kind of intimacy there was.

---

Across town, the woman in the scrubs watched from a laptop in the shadows of an abandoned clinic. The footage showed the kiss. The tangled limbs. The way Anurak’s head tilted back in surrender.

She smiled.

The voice modulator lay on the table beside her.

She picked it up.

Recorded one more message.

“Love makes you weak. I’ll remind him why he never should have loved at all.”

She clicked send.

And planned her next mercy.

---

TO BE CONTINUED...

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