"𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍." - Reba McEntire. "Fancy". 1990.
🐻Fancy🐰Mike🐤Ness🦊Vanessa✨
In which, Francine Jenkins is a Yale pre law and criminal justice major completing her senior thesis...
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Mentions of rape and sexual assault in this chapter ~~
"There's no way.. You're just an intern..."
Hurst mumbled under his breath as he looked over the death certificate over and over again, looking for a mistake a note of forgery. He wouldn't find one, she knew he wouldn't.
"How did you do it?" He looked up at her, laying the death certificate on his desk.
His eyes were wide, defeat, embarrassment, and cowardice. Beaten at his own game.
"How?" She repeated his question and bit the end off of the word with a scoff. "I actually did my job- your job. All of this was solved easily. If you did your job, did your research you could have solved it just as easily but obviously you are too incompetent to even do that." "You're just some girl." "Yeah? Well just some girl solved your towns oldest cold case. If your town is going to have to rely on out of town barbies to solve your missing children's cases then I suggest you look for a new job." She snapped.
She turned to leave. He jumped up, angered. He stomped over to her. His hand snatched her wrist while the other hand slammed the door shut. "The hell do you think you're doing?" Fancy snapped.
"I can't have you running around ruining my reputation, Barbie, surely you understand that." He snapped at her, a grin, a dangerous grin, was on his face.
"Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you." "Oh it's not me I'm worried about." Francine countered.
"Perhaps I can cut you a deal." He offered, his voice smoothing out. "Pretty thing like you... well... you outta be gifted with things other than detective work." His grip tightened and he pulled her closer to him. "I help you out and you help me. How's that sound, Barbie?" she didn't even have to hesitate. Her body moved before she could even think.
Her hand made its way across his face and a fierce pop echoed around the room. His free hand reached up to touch his cheek where she had slapped him. His eyes darkened.
"You'll regret that."
The door to the office opened and Janet stood. Hurst let go of Fancy and instantly stepped back. "What are you doing?" He snarled at Janet. "I heard a commotion." Janet said flatly and looked to Fancy. Her eyes scanned her carefully, looking for any injury. Clearly she was more concerned about Francine's safety than Hurst's.
