Agnes Berkshire was born with life handed to her in a silver platter, yet she still chose to run away.
Winding up in the city of London, working at an agency run by two boys with no adult supervision; in which she absolutely despises the owner.
1...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LOCKWOOD LET OUT A DRY CHUCKLE. he seemed nervous, frantically looking between Agnes and Lucy "wrong number. listen. exactly how famous did you say Annabel was?" he changed the subject.
the four colleagues went on a walk, George was taking them to the archives. Agnes suddenly regretted it when she didn't listen to Lockwood, she was extremely tired. "we've been looking at it the wrong way round. it's not about us helping Annabel. it's about her helping us." Lockwood had his had in his holster as they walked.
"how?" Lucy asked.
"it's all about media exposure. Annabel's big disappearance was a big story. it's far bigger than us burning a house down. if we solve her murder, the headlines we'll get will cancel out our bad press overnight." Lockwood's little posh accent exhilarated confidence, but Agnes wasn't so sure about it.
the girl looked at the other side of the street - a black widow symbol was in a leather jacket of a man across the street. her parents secret workers, the ones who did most dirty work so that the Berkshire's could repair and have their name glorified throughout England, the black widow was their symbol. Agnes lifted her hood up, speeding up her pace.
"I thought we weren't gonna do no more pet projects?" Lucy asked, they were oblivious. Agnes had to get them and herself out of this situation quick, she looked back across the street; pausing along the way. he had disappeared, maybe disguised himself within the crowd. no where to be seen.
"Agnes are you coming or not?" George turned, making Lucy and Anthony stop their conversation. staring at the paranoid girl. "yeah! sorry I thought I saw someone familiar." she hurriedly stepped on their direction, eventually catching up to them. Agnes knew one thing; she was either paranoid or they'd found her, she hoped it wasn't the latter.
"we still wouldn't make 60 grand." George rationalized. "it could make us more. I mean, think of the millions of old people sat at home, nothing to do but reminisce and read the papers. they love murder mysteries." Lockwood glanced at Agnes by George's side, barely fitting on the sidewalk considering they were all lined up. "it's a bona fide front-page splash. Barnes won't dare move against us."
"where did Barnes even come from?" Agnes leaned down, to take a peak at Lockwood. "nowhere." he let out a small cough, before looking to his sneakers. "leave me out of it. I don't like me name in the papers. had enough of that crap back home." Lucy averted her gaze elsewhere. "mine as well." Agnes bit her lip nervously.
"you have to know how to deal with them. leave that to me." Lockwood said, but Agnes moved behind George to hold Anthony's hand, making Lucy and George stop. "i'm serious Anthony Lockwood. leave me out of it."
he didn't respond, only looked down to Agnes's black Doc Martens.
the tension created between the two was evident, she still held his hand in a tightened grip, he stared at her cold hand; remembering that hours ago they were in his burning cheeks and how their lips were close. noticing his gaze she dropped his hand, recomposing herself and moving away from him.
