Our latest one, Elenna White, is a prime example.
She was desperately looking for a way out and almost took it upon herself to kill her husband herself. She’d have been imprisoned for life, or worse, the death penalty, and she didn’t deserve it.
We watched him forweeks, Elenna allowing us into her home security system to watch his routine, and unfortunately, witness his abuse.
We asked because consent is everything—people like Clarke don’t know the meaning of the word.
“She deleted it right after I confirmed it was done. There’s zero evidence on her phone. His offshore account was shifty, so will likely fall into the hands of whoever’s managing it.”
I nod, taking in the information. I didn’t leave behind any evidence; I never do.
Something isn’t adding up though.
I made a mess of the ground floor, spiked Clarke’s nightly whiskey to make him weaker, then stuck a knife in his side, just to add to the fear factor.
I could have taken it too far; it’s happened a few times, Regina having to call me back.
So instead, I shook off the darkness and took enough belongings to link up that he’d been an unfortunate casualty in a break-in.
He spoiled the fun as he went for his phone, and I only provided him a teeny bit of hope by letting him dial the firsttwo digits for the police. His head hit off the tiled floor with a sickening, harmonic thump.
One bullet straight between the eyes.
“Nothing else showed up in his file?” I ask her, watching her eyes ferociously dart from each corner of the screen, scouring the information we already poured hours into over the last few weeks.
“Nope, nothing. The only thing was that funding for his company’s research. The details don’t seem to ever have been revealed. Nothing to say he had an illness either.”
The facts spin around in my head like a vortex. I try to string them together to find out the element I need.
Elena would have mentioned something crucial like an illness. I could have suffocated the bastard to death, but that would have been too kind an end.
Regina pushes back from the desk. “Maybe they just didn’t want people to know he was murdered. They have the money to cover that up too, I suppose.”
She’s right. There’s nothing stopping them blocking anything going out against him, no matter what light it shines him in.
It doesn’t satisfy the gnawing at the back of my brain though.
“Too risky to contact Elenna and ask either,” I add. Whilst we usually keep an eye on the victims to make sure they get set up, we can’t reach out and ask her what’s going on; all we can do is observe in the background.
The only saving grace is we don’t need to try and employ her; she already has enough money to start over again.
We’ve never had a kill hit the headlines, at most the papers for an invasion. Usually followed by a tagline with‘is crime on the rise?’
Which is laughable, seeing as if they revealed the true figures, society would be in an uproar.
“We should keep an eye on Elenna, give it a couple weeks before we contact her again, maybe even drive by her new apartment.”
“Agreed,” she answers, closing down her system to call it a night.
Later that night when I lie in bed, I can’t help but let my mind wander.
There’s no reason to cover up his murder; if anything, hisstatusshould cause an outcry.
Clarke inherited that company, and it was known worldwide.
It should never have fallen into his hands.
I don’t know what direct part he plays in the research, but a man as cruel as him shouldn’t be anywhere near vulnerable individuals.
