Blake closed the blinds in the small office. He didn't want anyone to know who he was calling. Though, half of them probably knew whose number he dialed, and they wouldn't care.

The phone rang until someone picked up. "Progress?" the voice asked calmly.

"We still haven't found him, sir," Blake said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We're combing the area thoroughly. We found the wreckage of the police van—it's destroyed—but there's still no sign of him."

He didn't want to upset his real boss—not his police chief, but the one who paid for his duplex apartment, his kids' fancy school, his mistress's expenses, and his wife's visits to high-end parlors. That's why he tried to sound optimistic, but he knew he was failing.

His boss stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, making Blake panic. Letting his son's killer escape would piss off any father.

"Keep searching, Blake. He has to be found alive," the boss finally said.

"Yes, sir. Though there's one thing. We've found bodies of officers. Buried. He most likely killed them. But we don't know who's who; the bodies are completely charred, so we had to send DNA samples. It could be weeks before we get them."

"Why are you telling me this?" the boss asked.

"Because, sir, he could be one of those bodies," Blake replied, hoping to ease the tension.

His boss simply said, "Hmm. I have a gut feeling he's not among them," and then hung up.

Blake let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to die today. He was going to live—for now. But that depended entirely on whether he found this boy soon. If the boy turned out to be one of the buried bodies, Blake didn't know how his boss would react.

After all, Mr. Smith wasn't just scary. He was unpredictable.

---------

Amelia stepped into her room, clicked the lock behind her, and let her bag hit the floor with a thud. She slumped onto the sofa, her face dropping into her hands. Exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. She felt like she was drowning.

That kid was her last shot—her only chance to get close to Mr. Smith. One chance to fix everything. And like always, fate had other plans.

She’d poured her heart and soul into this. Sleepless nights, endless digging, building a case against Mr. Smith to finally bring him to justice. But every move felt like trying to hold water in her hands. Everything was falling apart.

Her eyes drifted to a framed photo on the table. A family picture. Her, her sister, and their parents, smiling together on a sunny day in Cornwall. Back then, life was simple. Safe. Happy. Before he came. Mr. Smith.

He had ripped her life apart. Killed her parents. Took her sister. Years had passed, but the questions stayed. Why them? Why her family? Why take her sister and leave her behind? Questions with no answers. She needed those answers. She needed him. But the man was a shadow, slipping through every crack.

That boy was her best lead in years. And now? Gone. Just like that. A ghost after taking down those officers. If the authorities caught him, he’d be dead before she could even get close. But if she found him first… maybe there was still hope. The real question was how. She wasn’t a tracker; she was a lawyer. Lawyers don’t chase ghosts.

Donald Blake was running the hunt for the boy. If she could wedge herself into his investigation, maybe she’d stand a chance. But Blake wasn’t stupid. He’d never let her just walk in. She needed leverage, something he couldn’t ignore. And she knew exactly who to call for that: her father’s old friend, Michael.

Amelia called Michael. It took a few rings before a rough voice answered. "Hey, Michael."

"Amelia," he sighed back.

"I know it's late, but I really need your help."

"With what, kiddo?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"I need to find a kid," she started. "I was working on his case. He was supposed to go to court today, escorted by the police in a van, but something went wrong and now he's missing. He's on the run."

"So, where do I come in?"

Amelia paused, unsure whether to tell him everything. Michael's history with Blake made it hard to ask. But the situation was too serious to wait.

"Blake is leading the investigation, and I need some information on him. Please, join the investigation."

There was a long silence. Amelia thought he might have hung up. Then Michael spoke. "You know how I'm going to respond, right?"

"Yes, I know, but please, Michael. That kid is my chance to find Amy. I can't let this slip."

"Find Amy? Amelia, Amy is gone. You saw her burned body. It was unrecognizable, and the DNA confirmed it. She's dead, why are you still obsessed after all these years. Why can you just let it go and move on with your life?"

"Because she's not dead," Amelia snapped in frustration. "I know my sister. That wasn't her body. No matter what the evidence says, I know it wasn't Amy. And you know how easily that bastard can fake evidence."

Another silence followed. This time, Amelia felt Michael wavering. She continued. "You know better than I do how many times that bastard has escaped because there's no solid evidence. Half this city is under his control, everyone in the mayor's office is his, if not the mayor himself."

Michael stayed quiet for a little longer. He could feel that Amelia's words were genuine, full of meaning. But he worried she wasn’t letting go of her old life. She was taking unnecessary risks, and he knew she needed to move past her past.

“If I help you with this and see you’re getting too deep, I’m pulling you out, whether you find Amy or not. Understood?”

A small smile appeared on Amelia’s lips. “Understood.”

Michael ended the call, then reached out an hour later with info on Donald Blake. He sent Amelia an encrypted file showing all of Blake’s shady dealings with Mr. Smith, including taking bribes to get Mr. Smith’s work done at the station.

She had to admit, Michael was really good at his job. After all, he was a veteran in the Cybercrime division, just like her father. Together, they had taken down countless criminals, so many that their photos were in the newspapers. They were quite well-known.

But everything changed when they started working on a case against a man named Vincent Marlowe. That’s when she found her parents dead, her sister missing, and Michael paralyzed from the waist down.

It shattered her life in ways she couldn’t even begin to count.

Over time, she figured out on her own that Vincent Marlowe was actually Mr. Smith. From that moment, she vowed to expose him and get revenge for her family’s deaths.

And now, she was finally one step closer to him.

“I’ve only included information that doesn’t tie him directly to Mr. Smith,” Michael said, finishing his explanation. “I want you to stay safe. That kind of info can lead to deadly outcomes. There’s just enough on her to get him to involve you in the investigation.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m just helping you to a certain point. If it gets too dangerous, I’ll pull you back.”

With that, Michael ended the call, and Amelia received the message. Knowing Michael was watching her made her feel a bit safer, but it also worried her. What if he pulled her out when she was so close to achieving her goal?

But she knew she had to take that risk since she had asked for his help.

-------

It was a quiet Saturday morning, and Vincent Marlowe sat alone in the middle of the church. Only a few people were there to mourn. Some cried quietly, others looked blank, and a few chatted at the back like they didn’t care about the loss.

The church doors opened, and footsteps echoed inside. They grew louder as the person walked toward Vincent and then stopped right where he was sitting.

“Sir,” a strong man spoke.

“He wasn’t my favorite child, you know. Always reckless and more stubborn than his brothers and sisters.”

The man listened silently to his boss’s words. It was the first time he had seen the intimidating Mr. Smith show any weakness. Seeing someone whose name usually scared everyone act so open made him uneasy. The uneasiness reminded him of when his own father walked in the house. A drunk gambling addict who only hobbies were drowning in debt and beating his son up

“But he was honest in his thoughts. That’s what I liked about him.” Mr. Smith turned to the man. “Where’s my son’s killer, Gale? It’s been over twelve hours, and he hasn’t been found.”

“The search team is still looking. They’ve expanded the area. We should have news by the end of today, sir. Maybe a lead.”

Mr. Smith raised his eyebrow. “A lead? No, Gale, that won’t cut it. I want him found, alive if possible, and I want him found quickly. Otherwise, my anger will be directed at them.”

“Understood, sir.”

Mr. Smith stood up and walked toward his car. Many men lined up outside the church steps, bowing as he passed by. As he got into the car, he whispered to Gale, who helped him inside, “If he isn’t found in the next 24 hours, I want a message sent.”

Gale nodded. Inside, he felt sorry for whoever had angered Mr. Smith. The king was furious and seemed ready to harm his own people to calm his rage.