The Plan

Chapter 19

Summer of 2006

A sudden surge of nostalgia came through her as the familiar man walked slowly towards her.

“Peter,” she greeted him after the guards stepped away.

“Kyla?” he asked in disbelief after finally recognizing her.

“Phoebe Knowles,” she corrected. “I’m Phoebe Knowles now.”

Tears formed and glittered at the man’s eyes as he looked at her.

“I’ve come to ask you about a few things,” she started.

 

April 2, 2011 (8:00am)

The result of the kiss mark came back negative of DNA.

“Maybe she thought we’re getting closer to the truth and decided to leave the mark in a safer way,” Tanaka tried to conclude. She didn’t really want to look at the last kill in the way Lawson saw it. They already had too much in their hands to find another killer.

“She’s not that stupid. She knew from the start we would be looking for DNA’s and she made it sure we don’t miss the kiss marks.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“If I’m right and the green-eyed killer did not kill Leonard Carlson, this only means one thing.”

“What? Another cover up?”

“Hmm…you can say that, but I think this one’s a clean-up. The people behind the cover-up in 1996 know we’re getting closer to the truth.”

“This fucking case is getting more complicated.”

“Yes, but this is also good.”

She looked at him, not intending to voice out her question.

He looked at her and said with a smile, “It means we’re on the right track.”

(10:00pm)

                She dressed in a black cocktail dress that exposed her back and gorgeously outlined her strong yet beautiful curves. She tied her black hair in a bun and this time she wanted to be a bit more careful so she wore blue contact lenses for her eyes. She didn’t want Stuart to be alarmed if he happened to see a green-eyed lady lurking at his party.

As expected and planned, Sean Lightman arrived on time to pick her up. She raised her eyebrows at his appalled look the moment his eyes landed on her when he opened the door.

He cleared his throat, finally finding his senses and smiled, “You’re stunning.”

She felt an unfamiliar pleasant feeling upon hearing those words and seeing the admiration in his gaze. “Thanks,” she answered curtly, looking away awkwardly.

This is weird, she thought as she turned around to lock her door. They walked to his car and drove to the fundraising party. She shook off the uneasy feeling she always had every time Lightman was around.

“Just a question,” he broke the silence as he drove them to the party. “Why kill all these me? You could have chosen the right path and approached the authorities.”

He didn’t really expect her to answer, and he was even surprised that she did.

“As you said, the system is rotting,” she started, “and I did not only lose my parents that night. Peter Thomas lost everything he worked for because of 1996.”

“You were close to him?”

“Just think he’s been a family to me since I can remember.” Her tone suggested he better stop there and keep quiet which he did.

The party had already started when they arrived. People looked at the stunning pair with awe. And since Lightman was obviously known to the high circles, it was not difficult for them to be noticed by the Senator.

He looked older in person, she thought, seeing the lines under the old man’s eyes and face. He may be old, but his posture was still as good as a statue, his presence still overflowed with power, and his voice still as strong as he greeted Lightman.

“My boy, how have you been? We haven’t talked in days,” he said to her escort, shaking the younger man’s hand. Then his eyes caught hers and he smiled, “But now I see why you’ve been busy!” he laughed lightly and Lightman did the same.

“Let me introduce you to Amanda Jules. Amanda, John Stuart.”

She beamed at him, her eyes twinkling with wonder as she held out her hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stuart.”

“No, the pleasure’s all mine,” he took her hand and kissed it gently. She mustered all her strength not to twitch and cringe in disgust.

“Is it time?” Sean asked her after an hour.

She nodded and they headed out of the hall to find Stuart.

John Stuart leaned back against his chair inside the dim room and rested his head against it. He closed his eyes, a cigar in one hand.

He was just about to take a puff when he felt a cold steely object against his neck and his eyes flew open, the cigar half-way to his lips.

“Make one wrong move and you’re dead,” an icy voice whispered near his ear.