Chapter 8: An Object Of Interest
Veronica’s eyes moved across her table as she signed a series of forms with practiced efficiency.
Knock! Knock!
"Come in," she replied, without taking her eyes off her task.
Nurse Matilda walked in, clutching a file against her chest. "These are the results for the blood sample you gave me yesterday." She set the file on the table.
"Thank you. Did the lab techs stay all night for this?"
"Yes."
"Oh, give them my thanks."
"I will," Matilda replied. The nurse lingered for a few seconds before speaking again. "I have a favour to ask ma’am."
"Which is?"
"My son, he’s sick and my husband isn’t around. I was wondering if I could take another leave of absence to watch him. For two days at most."
Veronica’s pen froze. Her eyes slowly elevated to look at Matilda, like a predator watching its prey.
The nurse swallowed hard instinctively and stepped back.
"Matilda," Veronica said, dangerously calm. "Are you really asking for permission to take care of your sick child?"
"Yes...ma’am," the nurse whispered, hiding her hands behind her.
Veronica let out a slow sigh and shook her head. "I’ve told you many times. If it’s a family emergency, you don’t have to keep asking me."
The nurse hesitated. "It’s just...I’ve been asking for a lot of time off these days. It would be alright if you take it out of my pay."
"That won’t be necessary. Go and take care of your child. You’ll simply have to do a lot more work to catch up for missed time." Veronica resumed signing the forms
The nurse smiled. "Thank You, ma’am."
"Now leave. I have work to do. Let me know of anything else."
The nurse made a small bow and left.
Veronica watched her close the door before remaining motionless for a few seconds.
She snapped her head towards the file Matilda had brought. Her hand lurched at it, snatching it from the table as if it would run away.
Her fingers gripped the sides, clutching it to her chest.
I might just give up if this is all for nothing.
She took a deep breath and opened it. Her eyes skimmed through the contents, widening with each passing second.
When she finished, an eerie smile spread across her face.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number. A few seconds later, the call connected.
"Hey V, what’s up?" the voice from the other end shot out.
"Hey Celine. How’s the family?"
"The family is fine. How’s work?"
Veronica smiled. "Work is just fine. How’s your husband?"
There was a moment of silence, before the voice on the other end spoke up.
"Alright. What’s his name?"
Veronica frowned. "His name?"
"Oh, come on, Vera. The last time you called and asked about my husband out of the blue, it was because you found a guy you were interested in."
Veronica bit her lip. "His name is Nathan."
"Nice name. Let me guess. Blond hair, light skin, and shares the same birth month with you?"
Veronica hesitated. "Yes,"
A heavy laugh burst from the other end of the line.
"Oh, V. You’re so predictable. Are You still on this journey of finding your ’ideal man’."
"There’s no crime against having a type." Veronica countered.
"I didn’t say that. It’s just... this is the third person you’ve shown interest in. What happened to the other two?"
"One of them wasn’t a natural blond, and the other’s blood results didn’t match mine." Veronica’s gaze drifted to the file. "I did tests this time. He’s the one I’m looking for."
"Hmm. If you say so. So anything else special about him? Rich? Big dick?"
Veronica scoffed. "Does it matter? And no, I haven’t checked."
"Hmm. What do you even know about him?"
Veronica took a breath. "His blood group, PCV, genotype and the rhythm of his heart, the shade of his skin among other things."
"Are you looking for a man or a specimen?"
Veronica sighed. She opened her computer which had a picture of Nathan’s mugshot. "The point is I am interested. So, how do I get him to be interested?"
"Hmm start by asking about his interests, what he wants. Wait. Do you know if he’s single? What if he’s married or has a girlfriend?"
Veronica didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on Nathan’s image as her tongue slowly swept across her lower lip.
"It doesn’t change anything. Other women are temporary variables. Besides I doubt he’ll be seeing other women in his current state."
The sharp sound of a palm slapping against a forehead echoed through the phone’s speaker.
"You..." Celine groaned. "What did you do? Did you hurt him?"
"I didn’t do anything. As for hurting him...last time, you told me to leave an impression." Veronica replied smoothly.
"Are you dumb?! An impression means you do something he’ll remember in a good way."
"What better memory than pain," Veronica muttered.
"You’re so hopeless. If you really want this guy, you’ll apologize and make it up to him."
"Why?"
"Because...I don’t know. You’re in the wrong?!" the yell caused Veronica to move her phone from her ear.
The voice on the end hesitated before speaking again.
"The kids are up. I have to check up on them. Take care of yourself, V"
"You too Celine."
The call disconnected.
Veronica turned her attention to Nathan’s image on her screen.
Her fingertips traced the outline of his face while her other hand drifted lower. Her thighs pressed together before she caught herself.
In an instant, she straightened her posture and adjusted her lab coat.
"Apologize to him?" she muttered. Her eyes lingered on the screen for a moment.
A faint red haze shimmered at her fingertips, spreading around her hand before she suppressed it with a sharp exhale.
No, I don’t think I will.
—-
In a police precinct elsewhere...
A bald man in his fifties and a younger woman were having an argument.
The man had a rotund figure that his brown suit did little to cover. The woman wore a black waistcoat with pants that complimented her figure.
"Detective, you have to stop investigating Specter!" the man bellowed between heavy breaths.
"But captain, isn’t it strange that someone who claimed to be innocent of a crime suddenly confesses in open court. This isn’t the first time it’s happened with him."
"I understand where you were going with this but you don’t want to go against Specter."
The woman frowned. "Because he’s a friend of the governor? Or because he has made donations to the police department?"
"I don’t care whatever reason you think of! Do not let some personal vendetta cloud your judgement!" The man pointed as if to help his point.
The woman blinked. "Excuse me? You think this is personal? Captain, I’ve shown you the patterns, if I could just talk to the defendant..."
The man slammed his fist on the table "That’s enough from you, Della! Stop investigating Raymond Specter or you will have to find a new career path."
The woman didn’t reply.
The man leaned slightly. "Am I clear, Detective?"
The woman bit her tongue, exhaling sharply before answering. "Yes, Captain."
"Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. That’ll be all," he waved dismissively towards the door, and the woman stormed out of the office.
Moments later, she was in her room with a lit cigarette. She took a deep puff, letting the fumes swim before exhaling.
"Fucking prick," she muttered.
She grabbed a folder on her couch and emptied the contents. Dozens of case profiles laid before her.
Her grey eyes scanned through them, searching for a hidden clue or a pattern she might have missed, but nothing came to mind.
"Fuck," she muttered then took another drag of her cigarette.
She dropped heavily on her bed, her dark hair ruffling against the sheets.
Her eyes caught one of the files featuring a picture of a blond man with brown eyes. Her gaze lingered for a moment before she forced herself to look away.
On the drawer near her bed was a framed photograph. A younger version of her smiling with her parents. Her fingers gently traced the edges of the frame before she set it down.
She returned her attention to the case file of the blond haired man.
No criminal record. Swears he is innocent, and then suddenly admits guilt in court,
She shook her head, setting the file down. She’d seen guilty men lie through their teeth but this guy. He stood confused, then suddenly confessed like someone flipped a switch.
Her eyes scanned the board. Several other cases that specter had worked on.
A newfound resolve slowly steeled in her grey eyes.
Her focus shifted to the small investigation board on one section of her room. There were red threads and pictures with most of them marked with a bold red ’X’
The image in the center was a picture of a dark haired man in his thirties with slick back hair, wearing a pinstripe suit that cost more than she made in a month: Raymond Specter.
With a pin and red thread, she added a small image of the blond man with a name written under it. Nathan Ledger.
She took a step back as if to admire her work. "Personal vendetta my ass," she murmured. Her eyes rested on the image of Nathan.
I have to speak with him.
"Della! Dinner is ready!" a voice called from somewhere in the house.
"Coming, mum!" she yelled, then squashed her cigarette.
She gave the board one more glance before leaving her room.