James Tolland had only been ten years of age when He'd first heard the term "Detective"
It'd been a term his father, Isaiah Tolland, had been referred to through most of his life.
He always remembered the times he'd peep through the keyhole of his father's study, watching the condescending man work his way through files, papers and snapshots of strange people. It intrigued the little boy beyond his own imaginations.
It was a wonder to him, how a person would spend long hours holed up in their office or personal study room for the main purpose of investigating a mystery. How would a person waste their time digging for information that was buried for a reason? or chase after a group of notorious people that had wished to operate in secret without disturbance?
These questions had run through the young boy's mind, slowly becoming a personal mystery he needed to solve. A mystery that could only be answered by his own inquiry.
James recalled how attentive his father had been when he'd come up to him with his questions, a gratified smile working its way to the corner of his mildly chapped lips as the boy pointed out his confusion to his father.
The man had reached for his son's unkempt brown curls, ruffling his hands through it as he spoke, "Do you know what people with various questions and unsatisfied thoughts are regarded as?" he asked, earning a confused stare from James.
"They are referred to as investigators, detectives, clever individuals who wish to know beyond what they see. Who wish to know more about an issue that others have ruled off with the little knowledge they had about it" He stroked his beards softly now, the slight wrinkles on his face deepening as his smile grew, "They are people who are regarded as clairvoyant persons, those who are able to detect, sense and perceive what others can't"
"You're like that Dad, Right?" James had asked, pleased to have finally gotten his father's consideration. A man who only regarded him when he was taking his leave, returned or when it dealt with school. To be able to get a positive lecture from him, was like a dream come through to him.
"Yes. Me and every other diligent person in this field" he said, reaching for his son's shoulder, "You also seem to possess that quirk or ability rather. You may surpass me in the future if you decide to walk the path I'm trudging on"
"How do you know I'll be a decent detective? You're the best there is, you're really good, how could I possibly measure up to you?" James questioned as he peered expectantly for his father's astute response.
The Old detective smirked at his son's question, tapping the side of his head playfully, "It's the sixth sense that's perceiving this, one that you'll possess very soon-if you don't already" he said, "and if you're determined and wish to take the path of a detective, I'll be here to guide you at every point"
James didn't really think his decision through at that point. Even as he'd grown over the years, he could never determine whether he really loved what he was studying and aiming for or if He'd done it all for the support and attention his father descended on him while he did. No, maybe that had been a fuel for the path he wanted to follow but what had ultimately led him unto the road of pursuit, had been his father's murder.
He'd been taking his final exams at college, having spoken to Isaiah the moment he was about to step into the hall for examination, he was excited to celebrate right after with the whole family present. He'd imagined his father giving a toast during the dinner they were sure to have, singing praises and showering him with love for his accomplishments.
But fate had other plans for him.
An enthusiastic James had returned home a week after he'd received no news from home. He'd arrived to meet a distressed mother and sister, a house filled with strange people all adorned in black and no sight of his father.
His mother, Rachel, had wished to calm the poor boy down as he hurled himself through their home, searching frantically for any sight of his father.
He'd screamed and demanded for his father to come out from wherever he was hiding in a bid to surprise him, begging that the joke was not funny while the mourners and his family watched him with woeful eyes.
Then He'd trailed his gaze to where a portrait picture had been stationed in the living room, His father's radiant smile beaming at him as he read the words inscribed on it: "In loving memory of Isaiah Tolland"
James had burst into a fit of laughter, startling the crowd that lingered around their massive home. He was surely having a bad dream, but most of all , He hated the onlookers that were residing in it. Why on earth were they staring at him? wasn't this all some joke or ploy to get him emotional?
He hadn't even noticed the tears that were actively streaming down his cheeks, blurring his vision and causing gushes of snot to ease out from his flaring nostrils. It's like his heart had excepted the truth while his mind was in a state of disbelief.
He'd allowed his mother then to wrap him in a hug that he hadn't realized he'd been craving for. allowing him to privately sob and wail into the crook of his mother's shoulder, a luxury he was thankful he still had to relish in.
"Detective James," The Inspector's voice sunk through the young detective's mind causing him to blink severally before his gaze met that of the elderly man in front of him.
"Yes.... sorry I blanked out for a bit, uh you mentioned earlier that there was an important case for me?" He asked, earning a wry smile from the old man.
The Inspector tapped on a brown file on his desk before him, the word confidential stamped on its cover page. He then slid it across the heavily occupied table,
"This Is a detailed report recovered from our top-secret agents from the IICA (Investigative intelligence and communication Association). They have a promising lead on the top Italian mobs that may have been involved in Isaiah's murder" He said, gauging the detective's reaction to this news as James slowly reached for the visibly thick file.
He flipped through the file, scanning through the pages filled with horrendous pictures of murder victims, profile pictures of mob members and associates and typed out reports made by the agents.
He moved to close the file when he sighted the last page he had unexpectedly stumbled on. Quickly flipping the page open and placing the file on the table, The inspector eased back into his seat as he watched the struggling detective with a concerned look.
The poor boy had been adamant about his father's investigation and lately It seemed to be eating him up from the inside as he raced to find out the culprits responsible. Thankfully, Amelia had slowly become a concrete base at which James could reside in when things were heading south in his investigation. The Inspector felt a sense of relief as the thought crossed his mind, knowing that there was at least hope for the stubborn and emotionally unstable man.
James retrieved a picture from the page he'd stumbled on, a sardonic smirk easing its way along the corners of his lips. The picture wasn't clear, was probably taken in the late 1990s due to its picturesque yet antique looking layout and had miniature dark spots around its surface.
A young boy in suspenders and black waves of hair frowned deeply from the photograph, his frown highlighting the indistinct image. It could have easily been discarded or regarded as useless due to the primeval period it'd been taken but it was kept for the sole reason of identification.
It was the only picture He had ever seen of the man known as the King of The Italian Mafia in New York City, a man who'd been listed in his father's journals severally amongst others, who had been pinned as his father's main suspect for heinous crimes that'd been committed and who happened to have managed to live facially unrecorded in all the systems around the globe.
Leonelli Gianpiero
A man his father had categorically stated as "one who should be feared without cause, one who exonerated fear with only a few words uttered".
It scared James to even think about the possibility of chasing down such a man but for the sole aim of vengeance and closure, He was willing to go the extra mile and tussle in the lion's den for the sake of justice.
❦
Amelia hopped unto the kitchen counter, a bowl of soup in her hand as she settled unto the marbled surface. She swung her legs aimlessly, struggling to eat as she peered at the time displayed on the wall clock.
James had left the house a good five hours ago and the sun was setting right outside now with no sign of contact from him. She'd been so antsy that she'd resolved to cooking to take her mind off it, hoping he'd arrive while she was cooking or cleaning up after but he hadn't. He didn't even have the courtesy to call after being gone for so long.
Especially after realizing the state she was in.
She heaved a weary and apprehensive sigh, reaching for her phone which was positioned beside her.
She refrained from calling him as her hand hovered over the dial button, she was sure he'd cut her short with a "I'm just rounding up the work I'm doing" and cut the call before she can interject.
Work was something Amelia found herself in competition with when it came to James. It was like she was in a throuple relationship where He'd have to balance the attention and affection he gave to her as well as the time and attentiveness he required to put into his work.
She understood his zeal to investigate and work through the night but sometimes she honestly didn't care especially when it affected her as much as it did now.
She decided to send a text instead, her hands typing quickly as she sent a short but demanding text to the soon to be reimbursed bachelor:
AMELIA
Where are you?
JAMES
Still at work, I'll be back in the next few minutes or highest an hour
AMELIA
will you now?
Anyway, I made some your favorite: Chicken soup and roasted Asparagus.
If work's going to take more time, can I at least deliver your lunch/dinner to you at work?
I miss you.
JAMES
That's a tempting offer, but I might be hungry for more than just your cooking if you're personally delivering it
At least the office is quite vacant today, no one will hear a peep
AMELIA
Pervert!!!
Ugh I'll be there in a sec with your meal. Both served on a platter for you lol
JAMES
Just the way I like it
Amelia couldn't help the silly smile that crept at the corner of her lips as she read his last reply.
It was typical of James to be sexting at work but it didn't stop the usual giddy feeling she felt whenever he did, or the dampness that perspired between her legs.
She leapt from atop the counter hurriedly package his meal before she'd endeavor to shower just in case his preposition was indeed serious.
Amelia stepped out of their apartment, strutting briskly towards the elevator as it pinged on her floor. Its revolving doors slid apart, granting passage to the stream of people that made their way out. She walked in, surprised by the number of people who still remained inside.
It took them all to the top floor of the building where majority of the occupants alighted from, leaving only herself and a reserved man who leaned at the corner, attention fixated on his phone.
She leaned in towards the panel, clicking on the button for the lobby as the doors slid shut.
She side stepped back to the adjacent corner of the elevator, her heartbeat racing for some reason as the elevator made its descent slowly, the annoying elevator music and the silence intensifying her tense nerves.
The feeling she'd felt earlier like an impending danger was waiting to take place today, had risen. The feeling was so intense and familiar that she perceived its relation to the dread she'd felt when the events of the past had taken place. Or maybe, maybe this feeling was even stronger.
The man beside her, as if on cue, reached for the panel, pressing the button that hindered further movement of the elevator.
Amelia grabbed unto the metal railing as it lurched to an abrupt stop.
"What the hell?" She spat, staring at the man whose face was hidden with a pair of shades and a scarf that was encircled over the rest of his facial features.
The man gave no response as he inched closer, while she took cautious steps back but the space within the elevator wasn't enough to retain proper distance.
"Who are you and what do you want?" She questioned, her heart racing as the possibility of her discovery by her family clan resonated in her head.
The man reached into the back of the enormous coat he wore, unholstering a sleek and dark pistol, aiming it straight at her.
"I'm here to retrieve you miss De Santigo, and I intend to with or without a fight" he says leveling his aim at her forehead, "Your father would rather the latter, so I implore you to co-operate"
Fuck, Amelia thought as she dropped the bag filled with James' meal and rose her hands up slowly. She contemplated every possible way out of the situation, but all were futile.
The man reached into his pocket, retrieving a face mask, "Wear this" he ordered, tossing it over to her.
She quickly put it on, chucking almost immediately. It felt like the air vent connecting her lungs to her nostrils had been vehemently cut short, inducing a drowsy state In which her body felt lulled, her movements seized as her knees buckled and gave way.
The man reached for her in time, slipping his hands around her waist, providing a steady support for her.
"Welcome back, Emilia" was the last thing she'd heard before her vision dulled.