Daisy:
I wasn't able to sleep well last night so as a result, I had this eye bag that can't remove even how many concealers I put, I drove 30 minutes early to work and decided to edit the photos I took 2 days ago so I can submit it for publishing together with the news about it.
I'm Daisy Johnson. A photographer by heart and profession.
Catherine was kind enough to support me in my dream to become a photographer so I studied Photo Journalism for 4 years and found a career right after I graduated. I worked for a well-known magazine company for a year before I applied to my current job. I'd work in a Newspaper company in Boston and I love my job. I work, particularly in the crimes department. I've always been fascinated by crime scenes. The company is paying me good money for my photos, plus I am allowed to do freelance photography on some events where I can raise funds to help charities and the orphanage I grew up in and that's what matters to me.
My boss arrived a few moments later and tapped me on the shoulder on his way to his office. "Daisy, good thing you're here. Can you drop by my office?"
"Of course, Mr. Wheeler. I'll be there in a minute." I flashed him a smile. I made sure I have everything done before I left my table. I knocked on his door a few moments later with my notepad and pen in my hands. I know my boss; he won't call me unless he wants me to do something.
"Come in." I heard him say after he hung up the phone. "Daisy, thank you for dropping by. Please have a seat."
"Thanks, sir."
He just nodded and waited for me to settle on his couch. "So, have you heard about what happened last night?!"
You mean, what happened to me and Gertrude? I want to ask, "I have no idea, Mr. Wheeler." I simply said. I'm really hoping it's not about us.
"We got a message from an informant about a club that was raided last night-"
I coughed. Not believing what I'm hearing and surely doesn't want to hear the rest of it.
"Are you okay?!" Mr. Wheeler asked.
I cleared my throat, waved my hand, and composed myself hoping it won't make me look nervous and rattled "I'm sorry sir, I caught something in my throat, please continue."
"Okay, So, as I was saying, Lotus was raided last night. Authorities heard from Intel that the club is being frequented by a group of people who sells and uses pink pills. The most common drugs for minors, however, they found a dead woman in the male's bathroom in the middle of the raid, the victim just turned 18, she must've been dead for a few hours before the raid took place. She was somehow poisoned and authorities are still investigating if it has something to do with the pills. We're contacting you last night to cover the story but your phone's off."
I can't bring myself to a shock. It's a part of my job as a photographer. Dead bodies are the worst to photograph but a dead body on a club I've been to last night? It's a completely different story.
"I must've dozed off last night." I reasoned.
"I can tell. I have asked Greg to cover it but unfortunately, cops blocked him. They don't want investigations to reach the media."
"Has anyone covered the story yet?
"I want you to cover it."
My eyes widened, "Me?" I asked. Does it really have to be me? How did I become this lucky?!
"There's no one else here Daisy. You know, your photos are great and you have exceptional talent in photography and I admire you for that. Please just listen to stories here and there while you take photos of the scene" He gestured.
As if I can say no to my boss. "Sure, Mr. Wheeler. I'm glad to do so." I showed him a fake smile.
Here we go again. Doing undercover. If it's not for the salary, I won't do it. So much for my promise to never step on that club again, or any other club for that matter.
"Good, I know I can always count on you. Okay, Daisy. Off you go and enjoy the rest of your day. Chao!" that's it and Mr. Wheeler went back on his phone like I wasn't even there.
I left his office and closed the door behind me.
A girl just died last night. I'm still trying to absorb what I just heard from my boss. Who could've done it? Does it have anything to do with the pills?
I went back to my table. Turned off my computer and took my belongings with me. My precious camera and my coat.
I'm already on my way to the club when my phone rings. I saw the caller Id and got irritated right away. I pressed the push to talk button of my earphone to answer it.
"Where the hell were you?!" I yelled. "Gertrude, you have a lot of explaining to do! First, you never mentioned that that club is illegal and they are selling drugs even to minors! And secondly, you left me alone last night!"
I heard Gertrude laughing so hard on the other line "Damn it, Dee! I heard from Catherine you've been thrown to jail! I'm really sorry. I'll explain everything. How are you."
"Better than I deserve! I shouldn't have listened to you. And Spencer-"
"I know. He called me last night to apologize. He will be facing serious charges. I'm glad though he admitted that you don't have anything to do with it and you've been released immediately."
"I hope so. That man deserves jail time. He's selling drugs."
"Sick isn't it." Her voice bellowed, "Have you heard about the dead body too?" She asked.
"Yeah. Sad. And authorities will be looking from a wide-angle. Anyone could have sold her or gave her that drug, and speaking of, I'm on my way there to cover the scene."
"Just what?! Aren't you lucky ey?" she teased "I just hope they find the culprit. Would you meet me later for dinner?"
I rolled my eyes "I'm still mad at you."
"I know. And I still love you. I'm sorry okay?"
"Fine."
"Great! See yah."
We hang up and I focused right ahead towards my destination.
Gertrude and I became best of friends a week after Catherine adopted me. She's the only girl in school who actually talks to me. We became inseparable since. It's always Daisy with Gertrude or the other way around. She grew up in Boston too like I am, she still has a family but she decided to live independently away from them.
The weather is rapidly changing from cold to chilling. Christmas is about to come, it's the best season. Sooner or later, stores will start to decorate and people will start to share smiles and gifts.
I look around as I drive through the familiar highway, chills run down my spine when I saw the club we were drinking and partying just last night. The lights outside are all switched off. Even in broad daylight, it won't erase the fact that it was a place where bad things happened.
I parked my car just outside the club with patrol cars still roaming around. The place is now a crime scene. There are a few cops talking outside while drinking coffee. I took my coat and my camera. I tried to look around to see if the cops were from last night and gladly, I'm positive no one will recognize me. They're a new batch.
I walk slowly on the wet pavement. Hoping no one pays attention to me much.
I approach the group of three male officers. "Excuse me," I called their attention. "I'm Daisy Johnson, from Boston News Daily-"
"No media." The taller cop dismissed me.
"I'm not a reporter. I'm a photographer. There's a difference."
The other officer cocked his brow, challenging me to explain.
"I'm here to take just a few pictures. That's it. I'm not here to ask questions, like that!" I motioned for them to look behind. Three vans were parked.
The taller officer glances back at me "Fine. Don't touch anything if you don't want your prints on the evidences."
I put my hands up showing them my gloves. I smiled and crossed under the yellow barricade tape before they change their minds.
I managed to take a few steps away when I heard someone call behind me "Hey you!"
I stopped. My heart started to beat faster. Did someone from last night recognized me?
I heard his footsteps.
Hesitant, I turned slowly, angling my face a bit lower to cover my face. "Yes officer?" I asked innocently.
He looked me up and down, his brows were drew together, definitely thinking where he saw me.
"Madeline Scott." he said.
"Excuse me?" I asked back. Confused.
He pointed to his chest. "Rick Dawson. Can't you remember? Sunday night?"
Oh great! I let go of the breath I'm holding. He has mistaken me for someone. I started to laugh nervously "Oh no officer." I showed him my ID. "You've mistaken me for someone."
His face turns red from embarrassment. He's quite handsome, he's tall and has a muscular bod but, he's not my type. And I'm sure is not Madeline.
Before he can say something, I left him there, contemplating his embarrassment.