I buy an iced coffee before walking into the office an hour later. I walk past the cubicles with people hunched over their computers, only the loud tapping of fingers on keyboards can be heard throughout the floor. I fear something big happened as I was out having dinner with my ex.

Surprise, surprise. Something did happen. I want to roll my eyes at the revelation.

"A top-tier businessman by the names of Finn Goetman was murdered last night by a 'gang' in Greenwich Village. His body was tattered and tossed in an alley with the eyeballs missing. When a resident, a Mrs. Rodernam found the body-"

I stop short.

Rodernam? The name rings a bell but I don't know- Wait! I was with her last night! My mind is assuaged with questions. What if he was killed as we were speaking? Had I taken a different path would I have met them? What about the sound we heard, was it then?

I continue reading.

"The culprits had fled the scene. Some members of the gang were arrested hours later and confessed that they were paid to do the heinous act, but none is willing to divulge who. The police are still investigating and are committed to bringing whoever is behind this to justice." I set the papers down. My body has broken into a cold sweat. In my mind, I know they'll never catch him. My father is involved in this, I don't know how but my gut tells me so. I only have to prove it.

I hail a cab the second I step outside. A yellow corolla that looks vaguely familiar pulls up with the setting sun on it's rear. I get in quickly and rattle off my address. The driver doesn't take off immediately which prompts me to look up.

The same lopsided grin appears in the rearview mirror. I am taken aback by meeting the same driver twice in less than 24 hours, moreover in Manhattan. This is a Guinness World Records worthy phenomenon. "Good evening, miss." He greets me cheerfully.

"Fancy meeting you here." I give a small laugh of surprise.

"As I am." He replies with an equal amount of joy. "So, Greenwich again?" Apparently, he hadn't heard me the first time.

"Yes." He starts the car immediately. I lean back into the hard cushion as the streets blur with motion. When we reach the same convenience store, he stops. I pay my fare and exit the car.

"Should I wait for you?" he asks, his head sticking out of the car.

With no other means of going home, I nod. Behind me, I hear him turn up the radio and start singing to a jazzy ballad. I was right, yet again.

6734 looks less menacing in the evening sunlight. You might truly think that a beautiful family of four, maybe with a dog, a Lab of course, lives in there instead of the bitter widow, Mrs. Rodernam, who is desperate for a romance even with her daughter's torturer.

I knock on the door and I do not have to wait a second before she cracks the door open. In the small crack, I can see half her face, the rest is cast in shadow. She looks like she set base camp at the door. "What?" She asks with a sneer on her face. "Go away. I have nothing for you." Her voice is venomous just like when I first met her. Some people never change.

I ignore her, "I heard that you found a body." I state. My reporter instincts have taken over. "When did you find it?"

"What's it to you? You're not the police are you?" she asks while crossing her arms. In that motion, the door opens wider as her hands are too busy to hold it in place. She realizes her blunder but refuses to acknowledge it. I get a view of the corridor leading to her gas chamber of a living room. It is cluttered with packed bags, a folding chair, a couple of clothes and her dog in its carrier. Someone must be going somewhere. I look at her with disbelief.

"Are you moving out?" I ask the obvious.

Her nose twitches and her stance gets defensive. "What's it to you?" she asks once again, a clear sign of her agitation.

"I am just a concerned citizen." I reply nonchalantly. I now understand Mrs. Rodernam perfectly. Despite her front, she is a lazy, weak woman who only profits off bullying others into doing her bidding. She doesn't even have the courage to fight for her own daughters and once shit hits the fan, she is up and going. Very mature.

"I am curious though, what will happen to Marylene and her sister?" For a second, she looks angry, almost furious for having figured her out. Then the fight seeps out of her.

"I don't know what to do." she says in a softer voice. With her arms drooping, she falls into the folding chair and holds her head in her hands. "I can't take them with me, and I can't stay here. They'll kill me next. I know it." She leand in, her voice lowered, "There was an RP scrawled on the gravel when I found him. I know it was for me." that catches me off guard.

"What do you mean RP?"

"Well, when I found the man, I had gone out for a smoke. You know so the girls don't see me do it. And then I found the body and RP written there with the man's blood. How could I explain having my husband's initials written on the ground, so near to my house. I cleaned it up with water and then called the police after."

Every word she says gets me on edge more and more. "You can't leave them, still. How will they live? What will they eat?" I ask her to get aggravated too. I can't imagine what having a selfish parent like her feels like. Those poor girls.

"The state will take them in. I'll call someone for them, when I am miles away and they'll find a better home. With a mom and a dad and maybe brothers. They'll be happier that way. They don't need a troubled mom like me." she says with so much conviction I want to slap her to Mississippi and back.

Just that second, I hear small footsteps coming down the stairs. A frail girl of about ten appears in a worn out tweed vest and brown denim shorts. Her face is streaked with tears. Upon seeing me she runs to her mother's side and hides behind her. I can only master pity for the little one. "Lene, what is it?" Mrs. Rodernam asks the girl.

"Jessy took my bunny." She replies in a small teary voice. A fresh wave of tears falls from her eyes.

"Go back upstairs and be playing with your barbie. I'll be right up." she tells her softly. The little girl runs back upstairs with renewed energy. Mrs. Rodernam sees me watching. "She's not so right up there." she motions to her head. "Those people screwed her up so much. She's not like other girls her age."

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen. But she'll forever be the seven year old that they took from me." She adds solemnly. She has every right to hate Pete; if he hadn't gone with the wrong people his family wouldn't be falling in shambles, his daughter would be like other girls. Somehow, Marylene reminds me of Gianna.

"When are you leaving?" I need to know at least to-

To do what? I ask myself. I can't take care of her children. As it is I can't stop her from going, and neither can I protect her.

She is about to answer when a loud honk goes off jolting me out of my thoughts. "Hey, watch where you're going." A man screams consequently. I turn to see what is causing the commotion. A car screeches off after almost knocking a man down. As it retreats, I catch the number plate and the air around me freezes. I recognize it as one of my father's cars.

The same effect is rendered on Mrs. Rodernam, suddenly, she wants nothing to do with me. She tries to close the door but I bar it with my foot. Suddenly, she screams. I step back with surprise. I am too stunned to catch the door before it slams in my face.

Some passersby stare at me as I leave the compound. Her scream drew a bit of attention. I return to the corner store and enter. I walk to the back where drinks are and pick a chilled bottle of water. After gulping half of it. I am more clear headed. I decide to pick up some groceries for the house before leaving the store. I walk out with two bags of groceries and enter the cab. The driver gets out rapidly and helps me with the bags.

"What is your name?" I ask since I don't even know what to call him.

"Roger, miss." He says and extends a hand for me to shake.

"Tara." I shake it firmly. I don't break eye contact which makes him nervous. He look away.

"Is that all for today?" He shifts on the ball of his feet.

"Yes. That is all." I enter the backseat and wait for him to start the car. The receptionist stops me as I make my way to the elevator. He hands me a bunch of mail and I return on my path. The house is empty when I reach home. The sun has finally gone down, and the open windows present me with a good view of the night sky. I leave the mail on the counter and first keep the groceries. After stashing everything away properly, I feel worn out, so I go to my room to rest.

A hand shakes my shoulder. My surroundings are dark when I open my eyes. I turn and come face to face with a clean shaven, freshly showered, smiling Carter. He straightens up when he sees that I am awake. I sit up and rub my eyes. I yawn widely with fatigue. The clock on my nightstands says I've been out for two hours but it feels like mere minutes have passed.

"Dinner's ready." Carter says drawing my attention back to him. "Here's your mail." He hands me the envelopes I brought up earlier, save for a few. I look at him dubiously. "I paid off some of the bills so don't worry about those." He says.

I want to sigh with frustration. "Why did you do that?" I get out of bed and throw on a sweater. I put on my slippers and follow him to the kitchen, my question forgotten. I slap down the envelopes at the sight of delicious food. After a fulfilling meal of sauteed potatoes, fish steak and a vegetable mix.

I lean back in my chair and open the envelopes languidly. The first couple of messages are redundant. I riffle through reading a few lines and tossing them to the side. I pull up a slim lilac envelope from the pile. An odd color for mail: lilac. It opens easily and I catch a faint tinge of perfume. Who in their right twenty-first-century mind still scents their letters? The beginning is quite the introduction too.

Hello dear,

Lovely to write to you on this jolly day.

I have been in a bit of a pickle and I had to write to you despite how much I'd rather have kept to myself. I am certain you are well aware of the death of Finn, if not, what business do you even have doing this, whatever it is? Anyway, I have to depart from the country very soon and suddenly. I trust you understand that I can't stay here not for you, and definitely not for your father.

Albeit, I have something I'd like to defer to you before I leave. I'll meet you somewhere very dear to me. I trust you'll find the address on your own. The answer lies in my words.

Cheerio,

Fiona.

P.S: I'll be expecting you ten days from now at 8:00 pm sharp.