𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼

-𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑-

 I couldn't help but be in awe as I backed up into the driveway of an old rural cottage. There were no idling automobiles or frantic people around; just silence, and I felt a sudden tranquility. As quickly as the silence had descended around me, it abruptly dissipated as I heard a motorcycle's low rumble approaching the driveway. How did he know I was here? A few miles ago, I was positive I had lost him.

"Hey, doe." He teased me. "I nearly lost you there for a second; if I didn't know any better, I might have assumed you were trying to get rid of me, but you and I both know that isn't the case."

I gave him a hard stare while rolling my eyes. "Bite me." I grumbled.

"Only if you ask nicely," he smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes, my irritation clear in my voice. "Oh, spare me the condescending act."

He leaned in a bit closer, his expression challenging. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little friendly banter?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "Your idea of 'friendly banter' is just another excuse to annoy the hell out of me."

He chuckled, clearly enjoying pushing my buttons. "Come on, it's all in good fun."

I shot him a glare, my patience wearing thin. "Funny how your idea of 'fun'," I throw up quotation marks, "is everyone else's idea of misery."

He shrugged, his smile unapologetic. "Hey, if you can't handle a little verbal sparring, that's not my problem."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Believe me, I can handle it. I just choose not to engage in your childish games."

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused by my frustration. "Well, aren't you an angel."

I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my cool. "You know, some people actually have important things to do instead of wasting time on pointless conversations."

He leaned back, his mocking smile never wavering. "And here I thought I was offering you a valuable opportunity for personal growth."

I resisted the urge to snap back, reminding myself that sinking to his level wouldn't help. Instead, I gave him a curt nod. "I'll pass on your generous offer, thanks."

He chuckled again, seemingly unfazed by my attempts to shut him down. "Suit yourself."

As much as I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, I turned and walked away, reminding myself that some battles simply weren't worth fighting. Dealing with him might be infuriating, but I wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction of seeing me lose my cool. I make my way towards the cottage, leaves crunching under my shoes. "Mrs. Lawson, it's me Ms. Maddson, we talked on the phone about your grandson, I'm here to ask you a few interview questions."

"I'm comin' darlin', just give me a second, I don't get around like I used to." I waited patiently by the entrance while I heard scurrying around inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dante, who had a content expression on his face. He must appreciate the peace and quiet out here, I reasoned.

The sound of the front door clicking open startled me out of my thoughts. "Well, hello there. Nice to finally meet you." She smiled sweetly. "Well, don't just stand there, come inside."

"Yes, ma'am; I appreciate it. I have hired a bodyguard since our last phone conversation for my protection; I hope you don't mind that he's here." I hesitantly looked at her, even though she was very sweet I wasn't sure how she would feel about an uninvited guest.

"Of course not, darlin' the more the merrier, please come in all of you, it's chilly out there," she says. I give her a grateful look, before proceeding inside.

I felt compelled to begin the interview after finally settling down in the living room and drinking a cup of coffee, thanks to Mrs. Lawson's persistence. "So, Mrs. Lawson, are you ready to begin the interview? I only have a few questions for you," I exhaled, feeling an uneasiness in my stomach. I despise conducting sensitive interviews because I've never been good at comforting people.

"Of course." She adjusts her seat and places her cup of coffee on the coffee table.

"What was the name of your grandson, and when did he die?" It's all too easy for me to say.

"His name was Luke Lawson, and he passed away only three days ago." I can hear her voice straining as she tries to hold back her tears. Dante simultaneously gasps before covering it up with a cough.

I scribble down his name and the date October 6, 1993. I pause for a moment before continuing my line of inquiry, "How did the accident happen?"

Mrs. Lawson shoots me a death stare, "Accident? Is that what they think it is? An accident?" She looks down at her hands in her lap, as if what she had heard was incomprehensible. "I assure you; it was no accident. My grandson was a good boy, but he owed money to a few people. He never told anyone else about it except me because he was so embarrassed. He kept attempting to fend off these people with a hundred dollars here and there, but they demanded the full cut plus interest, and he was in no condition to give out that much money. His death was not an accident," she finally says, tears welling up in her eyes, "whoever those people are, they did it. They did it, I assure you. You must believe me. I'd never forgive myself if his death was ruled an accident." I took a deep breath in, attempting to process what I had just heard. Could she be correct? Could it have been staged to look like an accident?