LOVE AND JUST

CHAPTER 12 : CAPTAIN, WE HAVE SOMETHING

After minutes of staring at the van, they got out of their car. With gentle strides, they approached the van.

Looking around, the street was too quiet, like the town had forgotten it. No children playing, no music from shops, just wind blowing dust over empty bottles. The few buildings had their windows shut and their paints peeled off. Even their footsteps sounded too loud, echoing against the old walls. It was the kind of quiet that makes you cautious, a reclusive place that felt hidden from the town.

The workshop was old, older than both of them — the roof was rusted brown, the walls cracked with black stains from years of oil and smoke. The big wooden sign, Richard & Sons, hung crooked with one nail left, its white paint almost gone. The main doors were wide open but the inside was dark, with broken chairs and empty oil barrels scattered around.

Andrew stood behind the van and kicked the license plate slightly with his foot. Freda moved behind the car to stand beside Andrew. They both stared at the license plate for a while. They exchanged suspicious glances.

Freda went into the car and brought the photos they printed from the footage. Looking at the van in the photo, the license plate differed from the van in their sight now. Aside from the license plate, everything else on the van matched the one that was captured in the footage.

“Could it be that this isn't the same van?” Freda asked Andrew.

“It could... but it could also mean it's the same van but with a changed license plate,” Andrew answered, wandering around the van.

“This looks like an old workshop, I don't think it's still working,” Freda said, writing something in her note.

Andrew drew closer to the workshop. “I think it is...” he said, pointing at the wrench. “This wrench is covered in grease and it's still fresh, someone was here today.”

Freda went closer, observing it. Then she saw beside the wrench , a small generator hummed quietly, hot to the touch, as if someone had just used it. Then she took photos of it and wrote down every detail. They took photos of the van and the street number.

“Let's head back to the office to report. This is enough for today,” Andrew said, walking to his Mercedes E-Class. Freda followed and they drove to the police headquarters.

ASHFORD HILLS POLICE HEAD OFFICE - 11AM

The headquarters was quiet when they entered, except for the humming of the air conditioner and the old clock ticking on the wall.

Captain Harris did not look up at first. He was writing something, his glasses low on his nose.

Andrew stood straight, his boots dusty from the road where their car had stopped. Freda stood beside him, holding the flash drive tightly like it was gold.

“Captain, we have something,” Andrew said.

The captain finally raised his head. “You were supposed to be back two hours ago. Where have you been?”

“Sir, we went back to the shops close to Sterling Bank for forensics,” Freda replied quickly. “We requested the CCTV footage from last week. One of the shop owners finally gave us access.”

Andrew placed his laptop on the table and inserted the flash drive. The video played.

“Here, sir. The white Toyota Hiace. Look at the left side — you can see the dent. That small push inside the body, just above the tyre. That's how we identified it. It was captured at 10:57 AM on the day of the incident.”

Captain Harris leaned closer to the screen.

“But sir, there is something else,” Andrew said, his voice lower now. “The plate number doesn't match.”

The captain frowned. “What do you mean?”

“In the footage, the plate was GT 4831-21,” Freda explained. “But the van we saw parked at the old workshop — Richard & Sons, the one with the faded board — had a different plate. GT 2944-22. Same van, same dent, but they changed the number.”

For a moment, the room was completely silent.

Captain Harris slowly removed his glasses and stared at them.

“So they are trying to cover their tracks,” he said quietly. “Good work. You two just proved this was planned.”

“Thanks, sir,” they said in unison.

“You may leave now.”

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WESTBROOK COUNTRYSIDE 4PM

In the old quiet bungalow, the group was getting ready for their new mission. They moved fast in the small dark room.

They pulled on their black hooded jackets and face masks — all black so nobody could recognize them.

Others packed the pistols and small knives into a black backpack.

“Everyone ready?” Caleb asked.

They all responded, “Yes.”

“Alright, let's go.”

This time around, they went without hiring a van. They barged into Max-Inn as planned. They took valuable jewelry and all the money they could take.

The boutique was a mess — clothes pulled off hangers and thrown on the floor, the glass showcase smashed with pieces everywhere. The cash drawer was open and empty, receipts scattered like trash. One mannequin was knocked over, its arm broken off near the glass door which was left ajar.

They rushed out of the boutique and no one was able to trace their route.

When they got home, they were too tired to even go inside. They just sat on the low blocks outside their yard, shoulders dropped, legs stretched out.

“Eliza, get us some wine,” Caleb said to her as he sat down to rest.

She strolled inside the house to get it while the guys sat outside in the compound. She came back with wine and four glasses.

“Thank you,” Marco said as she poured wine into their glasses.

“You really got all the info we needed, well done,” Caleb praised her and the others smiled, admiring her smartness. Eliza could only fake a smile and nod. Deep down behind that smile was guilt and remorse, but she couldn't express her emotions.

Belle looked at her and knew she wasn't proud or happy as Caleb or anyone else thought. She saw that hidden pain in her eyes.

Eliza dumped herself on the couch. She rested her head on the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

Belle stood at the door, gazing at her.

“Would you like some tea?” Belle's voice startled her. She didn't see her there. She sat up straight.

“No, I'm okay,” she said, and a small smile appeared on her lips which Belle knew wasn't genuine.

“I know you're not,” Belle said, approaching her.

Eliza lowered her head, trying to hide her face from her.

“I understand how you feel, and that's absolutely fine. You don't have to hide it from me, okay?” Belle said, patting her shoulders. She sat beside her on the couch.

For a while, they stayed quiet, letting silence have its effect.

Eliza regained herself. She raised her head.

“I would like to take a stroll,” she said to Belle.

“Alright,” Belle nodded with apprehension.

Eliza stood up and with little strides, she went out.

“Eliza, won't you join us?” Caleb asked as he saw her walk across the compound.

“No thanks, I'm going for a walk,” Eliza replied.

“Alright, take care,” Caleb retorted.

“Be safe,” Marco blurted out. Eliza didn't spare him a glance, talk more of replying him. She left the house.

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