100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 188: The Skeletons VIII
20 years ago, Fresno, California
Ivan looked straight to Sam’s green eyes; the shame that once was in his eyes was gone. "It was I, who sent you away." He confessed.
Her jaw dropped; she did not see that coming. And she fisted her hands in anger.
Her brother was the one who sent her away, and she walked, Ludwig following after her. She didn’t know what to say. It was all too much to handle. What would she say? To the most important man in her life, who clearly wanted nothing to do with her from the start.
"Sam," his tone was brotherly, patient, and it caused her to pause half-way before she turned to a corner.
"What I do, I do to protect you. Never doubt that." he started.
"What I do, I do to keep you safe." He added, sincerity clear on his tone and face. And the determination in his eyes spoke volumes that he would cross anyone to protect her.
"Safe is irrelevant, happiness on the other hand..." Sam responded, digging her nails in her palms. "My own brother... made me feel more alone in my life." she finished disappointedly.
She turned forward, "Go back to London. I don’t want you here, I don’t need you. I don’t want anything to do with you." she said.
He stood there watching her leave, balling his hands into fists.
He grabbed his phone and gave their grandparents a call, assured them that she was safe. ’Safe’, that was his chosen word, because he couldn’t say she was ’fine’, no, she was far from fine. She was shaken, understandably so.
And now, he is concerned for her mental stability. She was still a child, a teenager with profound intellect, yes, but a child still. And she was his responsibility.
She was the only reason why he hadn’t demolished the Family name, so she’ll still have something to come back to. When he knows she’s ready to play the Fredricksen game, and a cruel one, it is. Back to London where she truly belongs, to live the life she was supposed to---as the Heiress she was.
That was the last time they saw and spoke to each other. At least, the last Sam saw him. But not Ivan, he’d had her still under surveillance. Receiving weekly updates about her, including photos of her wherever she went.
....
Five years later.
Sam had become obsessed with her parent’s death and became a recluse, doing as much research as she possibly can---taking advanced courses on forensic pathology and the like. ’Teenage phase’ from what her grandparents thought, and not even Dr. Martin knew about what she discovered that fateful day five years ago. But they did know how it had changed her drastically.
No, Sam wasn’t afraid anymore. She was fearless, and she was fierce. And she took everything head-on; whatever happened that day when she ran away had turned her better, but at the same time worse. Better, that she had gained her confidence back, although in exchange for her innocence.
And at 18, she stopped therapy by legal right, changed her name, and was going through an internship.
The small apartment she was staying in was close to the University, filled with five years worth of sketches, every bit of what she saw that night. Every gruesome detail, every dreadful piece of it, she’d draw on the empty pages. Hoping one day, with enough practice, she’ll be good enough to hack through the NBI and CIA database and crossmatch her sketch.
Around mid-semester, her grandparents became more concerned when she was admitted to the hospital out of fatigue; they had picked her up. She wondered for a moment how they knew in the first place when she didn’t inform them; she only needed rest; after all, it wasn’t anything life-threatening. However, she didn’t have to think long to figure out who had informed them.
Sam got out of the car outside her apartment, "Thank you, Grans." she said, not even bothering to speak with them or kiss them goodbye, causing them to exchange disappointed looks as she walked towards her apartment building.
She climbed up the stairs and opened her apartment, frowning visibly at the sight she found. No, at the person inside, going through her belongings.
Ivan sat on her bed, eyes glued on the images before him, drawn sketches and so engulfed with it that he didn’t notice her walk in. She narrowed her eyes at him, watching her brother turn the pages over. She could see the agony, the anger under his calm masked expression—the misery.
His jaw clenched subconsciously, gritting his teeth, and she saw the murderous look in his eyes.
Sam threw her jacket on the empty chair across her computer desk; the sudden movement pulled Ivan out of his painful trance.
He looked up to see her sister staring right back at him, a dissatisfied look on her face.
"3 days bed rest " he said, reminding Sam of what the physician from the hospital advised. "Close the door when you leave." she spat, earning a frown from her brother; this was her way of telling him his presence was not welcome.
Nevertheless, he stood from her bed with her sketch pad still in his hand. He needed it; it held the image of the men who broke their family apart. Sam saw what he was trying to do, taking away from her what she had been working on.
"You’ve done enough." Ivan started when he saw her about to retaliate at him. And he stepped closer towards her, "I’ll be taking this with me." He said, hinting at the men on the book, watching her pour herself a glass of water.
"I’ll do the rest of the work." he said, hinting at the NBI website on her laptop that she was studying to hack.
Sam took a moment studying him; seeing the determination in her brother’s eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so she kept her mouth shut. "You don’t have to worry about this anymore. I’ll be taking care of this personally." He vowed., and after a pregnant pause, Sam took a sip from the glass of water in her hand. The exchange was enough, and they both knew what he’d do. And it didn’t matter if it wasn’t socially acceptable.
They wanted Justice.
And they plan to get it.
.....
Hope Valley Healthcare
Sam frowned, getting out of the Honda Civic she was driving as she looked at the facility before her. The building was medium-sized, walls painted white, with fine high pitched roofs.
Upon entrance, she could smell the strong scent of disinfectant, passed through the long hallways. Fluorescent tubes flickering above her, inside the walls were painted pale blue.
A trolley and a wheelchair could be seen, sanitizers on walls keeping the spread of germs.
She had worked in a mental institution before; however, it wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. She preferred more practical sciences.
She was donned in a white medical gown and a stethoscope hanging around her neck; stood beside her was the resident Psychiatrist, Dr. Dawson, giving her a tour of the criminally insane ward. Explaining each case of the patient’s room, they passed by. Sam is hanging onto his every word.
Dr. Dawson turned to her, a sheepish smile on his face. "To be up-front with you Dr. Gray we are so excited to have you here." he said, earning a curious brow from her. "We’re ecstatic that you’ve chosen this facility for research on the book you’re writing. We’ll be looking forward to reading it in the future." he stated, causing the redhead to smile at him. "I’ll be sure to send you a copy when it’s published, Dr. Dawson." she replied. Yeah, a book, that was her excuse--something that wasn’t really that far fetched considering that she had more times than one been asked by colleagues and students if she’ll ever be working on writing about her field of expertise.
And for some time, she simply said that she’d consider it, considering she never really had enough time to write. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
The two continued with their tour, Dr. Dawson introducing her to some of the staff and patients, sharing information about their health and mental diagnosis and the care that was being provided to each.
During the lunch break, Sam made her way towards room 56, her heart hammering against her chest. She knew who was behind the door, the man she had been looking for. The redhead swung the door open, revealing the medium-sized room with windows barred from the outside. The beeping sound of the heart monitor filled the air, and the pungent stench of gangrene would make most people hurl.
Her green eyes trained on the man lying on the hospital bed. He had ashen colored hair, pale skin. Wires and tubes attached to his body. She stepped inside the room, standing before him, scanning his features. Yes, she thought.
’I finally found you.’
