Cruel Awakenings

1. Cases

I briskly paced along the snowy pathways of Chicago. Heading from the client I had spoken with earlier. P.I. Or Private Investigator. I love it, as every day comes with something new to pursue. Cheesy. Though, it's the truth.

   Each assignment pays well. So long as I obtain what my customers want I get the dough. Effortless and a helpful distraction. Today, I helped some CEO prove their competitors stole files from their organization illegally to recreate a prototype they've been working on and launch it. The evidence was necessary for their current court case.

  Though, It wasn't all that entertaining. I snuck into their firm, presenting myself as some journalist interested in their sudden rise in business. Of course, the clothes I wore only offered me spare moments from the gazes of the sandy blonde-haired young male assistant on hand to be able to sneak further into their property. He happily let me check around while he fetched the woman who oversaw their media. I slipped the buyers' hard drives into their relatively unprotected computers and downloaded replicas of their original files for similar marketing ideas. It took only mere minutes to erase my efforts and exit the facility, swearing I only had to run back to my car for my purse. Though, they hadn't even realized I had never parked a car when I arrived by Uber—providing me the needed edge for no traces back. I met with the client, who appreciated the information on the files. Leon, the CEO, not even a second later, had his assistant exchange money with me in a well-padded folder.

Easy.

   Most cases I'm hired for consist of uncovering possible cheaters or druggies every once in a while. After a handful of digging, I pass the details on and claim my money.  The jobs do have their perks. Everything runs typically on my time, I can take on whatever cases I wish, and the stacks for my services are enough to keep me happy.

   It's not that I need the cash, either. I've got a savings account stockpiled with money for the second I'm ready to live free of responsibility. The only problem is that I love doing what I do. I can't exactly stop and tell people no. It's not the money that beckons me but the need to help. The need to figure it out. The demand to fulfill a purpose that is always right under the brim of the surface. No matter how many cases I solve, I never feel satisfied. I could take a vacation and still long for the next phone call. I guess you can say without it, and it would almost be as if I'm missing something in life. I'd be missing my passion.

I chose to walk home tonight. The weather was pleasant and chilly. My car wasn't with me, and the bus wouldn't be around for hours.

   I was leisurely clicking my heeled boots on thick salted cement along the tree line, all the while admiring the white wonder falling around me. The wind and air are colder than the feeling you get opening the freezer as you've forgotten to unthaw the wings or steak for the night. Letting the clumps of icy snowflakes layer together on my coat and boots. I've always been rather fond of cold weather. Even as a child, I never quite found it too hard. It felt... comfortable, and that's why I moved here.

I eventually reached the outskirts of my small neighborhood, where my home awaited my return. No lighting to illuminate my path forced me to adjust my hazel orbs to the moon's dull light. I could barely make out my house further down ways.

A sigh escaped me. As much as I love my job, it's beyond tiresome. Something about always being awake for hours on stakeouts and keeping up multiple identities in pursuit was just the job that kept me on my toes. I halted on my front porch steps whipping out my keys as my phone rang in my back pocket. I practically ripped it out, trying my best to suppress a yawn.

"Savannah's PI business. How can I help you?"

"Oh, It's Savannah now? Not Lucy? Or maybe the secretary that goes by Chrissy?." The sarcasm in her voice caused my mouth to twitch, and I released a slight chuckle. "I was just hoping you could pass a message to my daughter, please? The girl works far too much to check in with her mom."

I moved away from my Mom in Florida not too long ago. Colorado spoke volumes of that to me. A gut feeling that I needed to be here. Not that I believe in much of that mumbo jumbo. I don't. I was secluded in my part of the cold world where I ran my business close and safely hidden. I could vividly remember picking out this house and carrying boxes in with my mom at my side.

I felt terrible for moving and leaving her all alone. But all kids need to grow up eventually.

I break free from the thoughts of my mind and laugh. "Hey, Mom. I'm doing great. I brought in five grand today working a case. I'm just about walking through the front door as we speak." I unlocked my archaic squeaky door and placed my noisy little keys in the dish next to the yet-to-be-read mail and bills on the small table. "How are you since yesterday?"

Her laugh was nervous because even she knew she had called a lot. "That's great, sweetheart... I hope the case wasn't dangerous, though. considering that's some serious bread." She mothered. I grinned. If Mom weren't even a hint concerned with my life, I'd surely freak. "Well, you're tired, I suppose. Honestly, I'm perfectly fine. Just cleaning up around the house. I just wanted to hear your voice before I head to bed." I heard her yawn as she said it.

I never knew my father. My mother had me young and had been alone for a long time. I've never met him before or seen pictures, but I'd like to believe he was a decent guy with fantastic hair because...well, look at me? Kidding.

"Yes, I'm tired, Mom, but I shall always make time for you," I state proudly.

"You're still the same dork you were as a kid.  Though, I do have to check on your Auntie. I'll call you again. Please get some rest. You work days on end and don't sleep.. still, to this day, I can't wrap my head around how you can do that." She gently spoke, being as caring as always.

  My Auntie is my mother's best friend. She helped raise me on my mother's side, whereas my father didn't quite play that role. Madison. She was like an Aunt to me. The fun one too.

"I promise I will. I love you." I state tiredly.

"I love you too, Rose." She lightly
responds.

With my phone back in my pocket, I wandered into the kitchen. Opening the wine cabinet, I skim my nails over the maroon bottles and pour myself a small glass of my favorite red.

I pushed the bottle away from the edge of the counter in case it were to fall. Accidents happen but still. With my luck as a klutz it'll most likely happen. I raised the cup to my lips, my eyes close momentarily, letting the sweet, crisp taste warm my throat as it traveled and worked its way into my well-awaiting veins. Just what I needed. I grabbed the bottle and my glass and wandered down the hall.

As much as I longed for sleep, I really couldn't bring myself to go to bed. Instead, I got my wine into my office and hopped on the computer. Some emails always came through with new cases that piqued my interest.

I chugged the rest of my wine with two swings and poured myself another glass.

This one looks interesting enough—missing girlfriend. I'm no police officer or detective, but... my unorthodox methods might lead to more than they can find out initially.

Mr. Richardson,

I'm sorry to hear about the problematic events leading up to your girlfriends' disappearance. The cops being unable to locate her is concerning but well within my expertise. I want to schedule an appointment with you relatively soon... maybe tomorrow? I'll have my contact information available listed below.

All of the best luck,
Savannah

With that, I hit send and leaned against my desk, feeling the wine hit my system rather quickly. Damn, I knew I should've eaten today. I knew I should have gone to my bedroom, but my eyes closed, and my body gave in to sleep no matter where I was.