Chapter 3
1062 Words
The neon sign of the 24-hour diner across the street flickered, casting a rhythmic, rhythmic pulse of blue light across Roxanne’s desk. It matched the throbbing in her temples.
Roxanne King clicked the final file on her laptop to "Closed." The "Case of the Disappearing Dowry" was officially solved. It hadn't been a grand conspiracy; just a greedy brother-in-law with a gambling habit and a poorly hidden offshore account. Predictable. Boring. But it paid the bills, and more importantly, it paid for Mia’s private school tuition.
She leaned back, the springs of her thrifted office chair groaning in protest. She reached for her lukewarm coffee, only to find the cup empty.
"Story of my life," she muttered, tossing a stray pen at the dartboard on her wall. It landed right in the bullseye.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a photo of a girl with a face full of freckles and a wide, toothy grin. Mia.
Roxanne’s entire posture softened. The hardness in her eyes—the protective armor she wore for the rest of the world—melted away. She swiped to answer before the second ring.
"If this is about the biology project, the answer is still no, I won't hack the school server to see the grading curve," Roxanne said, her voice dropping into a playful, sisterly lilt.
"Hi to you too, Rox," Mia’s bubbly voice chirped through the speaker. "And for your information, I’m at a solid A-minus. No hacking required. I just called to see if you were actually breathing or if you’d finally turned into a statue in that office."
Roxanne smiled, rubbing her tired eyes. "I’m breathing. Barely. Just finished a case. I’ll be sending the wire for your graduation trip tomorrow, so don't you dare look at the 'budget' section of the brochure."
"Rox, you don't have to—"
"I want to, Mia. Now tell me about the debate team. Did you crush the Hamilton twins?"
They talked for twenty minutes. For those twenty minutes, Roxanne wasn't a cynical PI in a dangerous city; she was just a big sister. They talked about trivial things—bad cafeteria food, Mia’s dreams of law school, the weather. It was the only time Roxanne felt "clean."
"I love you, Rox," Mia said softly before hanging up. "Don't work too late, okay? You sound tired."
"Love you too, Kid. Sleep fast."
The silence that followed the click of the hang-up was deafening. Roxanne stared at the dark phone screen for a long moment, the weight of her world settling back onto her shoulders.
A rhythmic knock at the door startled her. She didn't reach for her gun, though. She knew that knock.
"Door’s open, David," she called out.
David Johnson—known to everyone else as 'Pops'—pushed the door open with his elbow, balancing two steaming cardboard cups of coffee. He looked every bit the retired detective: tweed jacket, salt-and-pepper beard, and eyes that had seen too much but still managed to look kind.
"I saw the lights on from the street," David said, sliding a fresh latte onto her desk. "Heard you closed the Miller case. Nice work, Rox. The precinct couldn't find that money for three months."
"The precinct wasn't looking in the right trash cans," Roxanne replied, taking a grateful sip. "Thanks for the caffeine, David. You're a lifesaver."
David took a seat in the guest chair, the one that usually held crying clients. He looked at her with a fatherly concern that always made Roxanne a little uncomfortable. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Kid. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you had a real meal? Not something that comes in a paper bag?"
"I’m fine, David. Really. Just a long week."
"It’s always a long week with you." He sighed, standing up and patting her hand. "Just... be careful. The streets are feeling a little twitchy lately. Lots of movement in the Vane territory. You stay away from the North Side for a while, alright?"
"The Vanes don't care about a small-time PI, David. I’m beneath their radar."
"Nobody is beneath the radar when the weather changes," David said cryptically. He gave her a final, encouraging nod and headed for the door. "Get some sleep, Roxanne. That’s an order."
Roxanne watched him leave, feeling a flicker of gratitude. David was the only reason she hadn't completely lost her mind when she left her father’s house. He was the "good" in a city full of "bad."
She began to pack her bag, ready to finally head to her apartment and collapse. But then, her phone buzzed again.
She expected it to be Mia with a forgotten thought. Instead, the caller ID made her blood turn to ice.
DAD.
Her father hadn't called her in two years. Not since she told him she’d rather rot in an alley than help him clean his dirty money again. Her thumb hovered over the 'Decline' button, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She shouldn't answer. Nothing good ever came from a call from Leo King.
But then she thought of Mia. She thought of David’s warning.
She swiped 'Accept.'
"I told you to delete this number, Leo," she snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear.
"Roxanne..." her father’s voice came through, but it wasn't his usual arrogant tone. He sounded small. He sounded broken. There was a muffled sob in the background. "Roxanne, please... you have to come home. Right now."
"I don't have a home, Leo. I have an office and an apartment. Whatever mess you've made, call a lawyer."
"It’s not about me, Rox," Leo whispered, and the terror in his voice was so raw it made her knees weak. "He’s here. He’s in the house. And he’s holding the photo of Mia."
Roxanne’s grip tightened on the phone until her knuckles turned white. "Who? Leo, who is in the house?"
"Silas Vane," her father breathed. "And he says if you aren't here in ten minutes... he’s going to make sure Mia never makes it to her debate match."
- Writer
