*****3rd POV******
Beatrice stood in front of a gravestone with the name Alice P. Deen imprinted on the rough surface. The flowers growing around it were neat and kept, as if someone had been tending to it.
From the records, the person(bones) lying under there was an old woman that died of a heart attack. But the anonymous person that had put Jackson Raynatt on her radar had once again disclosed that the grave belonged to Paula Heather, Annie's mother who had disappeared from the face of the earth.
Beatrice had spent an entire week trying to trace Paula, hoping she could help her take down Jack. And to learn that the woman could possibly be dead, riled her badly.
In order to exhume the corpse, Beatrice needed a permit. Her case was not strong enough to disturb the resting and so the permit had been denied.
She gritted her teeth, staring at the grave that was bathing in the afternoon sunlight.
"Give me something Paula. Anything to get that bastard."
But, all the answers laid six feet beneath that grave. Answers she desperately needed. Never before had Beatrice been so intrigued by any case in her life. She could feel her blood boiling to the unsolved mystery behind Jack. Not forgetting all the blood he had 'shed' of innocent people.
Even though she had no proof of his involvement with the Mafia organization, Beatrice felt she was on the right path. Jack would eventually slip. And she, would be there to catch him.
***. ***. ***.
Jack sent a glass of brandy flying across his office to smash on the plain cream wall to the left. The content stained the surface while uncountable shards sprayed the tiles and the couch near the spot.
"How did she know?" Jack roared darting a deathly glare at his right hand man, Steve Murphy.
The second male maintained a solid posture, hands held behind his back as he looked his enraged boss.
"I believe we now have a mole Sir! No outsider knew of Paula's location."
"We can deal with the mole later, right now I need that nosy officer off my business. She's becoming too troublesome."
"Should I take her out Sir?"
Jack stopped to think. While Beatrice would surely grow into an unwanted thorn in his flesh, she hadn't done anything deserving of death. Maybe a little scare would have her abandon her wild ambitions. Did she really think that she was enough to bring him down? He had been operating in the shadows for as long as he could remember. Ever since he learned how to hold a pencil properly, his father had began training him. Teaching him how to be an assassin, a spy and most of all, a spy Lord.
It wasn't the best childhood experience anyone should have, but, it was how he grew up. He could change nothing about the past. Only his visits to his maternal grandmother had made his childhood bearable even if it was a fraction.
"No. Not yet. I might need her."
"Then what is your final order Sir?"
Their eyes collided.
"Scare her off. Use the Black Blood way."
It was an excellent strategy. Throwing her off trail and throwing a bone to the other side for her to follow felt like the perfect plan.
As for the mole that had leaked this sensitive information, they had a special place in his dark soul.
As Steve was about to leave the office, Jack called him back. "Inform the Annie's driver to take her home directly. Tell her I can't make it to dinner tonight."
Steve nodded firmly. "Okay Sir!" Before hurrying out of the office, leaving his calculative boss to his rage.
Having worked for Jack for fifteen years, Steve was well aware of his uneven tempers. Aware of his ruthless side that very few people had seen and not lived to tell the tale.
Jack was unforgiving to betrayal.
***. ***. ***.
"When will you come home mommy?" Asked a little boy on loudspeaker.
Beatrice bit her lip, forcing her eyes to concentrate on the desolate highway. Sad tears were forming a thin layer on her corneas.
"Soon baby. Soon."
She comforted, yet she did not believe the depth of her own words. Her chances of leaving this state were slimmer than a piece of string, all depending on Jackson Raynatt.
The night was dark, the shadows eerie.
A police car continued driving west on the lonely highway, fighting off the shadows cast by the weak moon with the headlights.
Nothing scared Beatrice. She had had her fair share of traumatic encounters that even if a horde of ghosts were to appear before her, she would casually run them over.
As she approached the city beaming with life, a biker in all black sped from behind her car and slowed when he was close enough to the passenger window.
The rider smiled from underneath the black helmet before bringing out his Beretta M9 and aimed at Beatrice.
Her eyes grew round to the sight of the gun. "Shit!' she cursed sourly as she quickly spun around the steering wheel in hopes of avoiding the bullet about to be released.
The tires screeched, the exhauster produced dense chocking smoke as the car started moving around, losing balance.
Beatrice lost control, sending her car rolling on the road three times before a utility pole brought it to a halt.
The impact wasn't horrific, it only made her lose conscious and left a few bruises on her face and arms. Seatbelt people. Seatbelt.
The rider halted a few meters from the smoking car. He brought out a camera and snapped a few photos before shoving it back in the small bag across his chest. While at it, he retrieved a photo from the same bag, along with a black rose.
And after making sure the car wouldn't blow up, Steve left the photo on the ground with the rose on top. A warning sign, the Black Blood way.