Case 1260

Chapter 3

Victoria.

That was the only word that was displayed in my mind. Small and fragile just like this child. Dead, just like this child was to become.

Now I knew why that man near the dumpsters cried. This was his child. A small child with a small, knitted cardigan clothing it. My eyes watered when I looked at this child.

What would have happened to the infant if my perfect morning wasn't ruined?

Using my sleeve to wipe my tears, I struggled to stand with the child cradled in my arms. After that, I ran. Ran as fast as I can. As though I ran away from all the awful memories that haunted me day and night.

Searching for a hospital, my eyes land on a police station only footsteps away. They'll have a first aid officer there, I thought. The thought soothed me.

The child was warm against my body and motionless. "It's all right", I sang to it. "Everything will be okay". As though a sign from above, the baby started crying in a low, weak voice. My heart slowed down but not to an average rate.

The skies shattered down wet diamonds, a surprising contrast from what was a sunny day. The rain attached to me like glue, and I felt colder than ever. Finally, I reached in front of the small station. I pushed the door open and cried, "She's dying, she's dying".

Half an hour later, the sirens of an ambulance were heard. My soul and body were now one as I watched a young lady wrap the baby in a towel. She handed the baby to one of her co-workers who got into the ambulance, which then drove away, every turn of its wheels leading it further away from the frantic situation.

"Victor my dear man, I do hope you are quite alright". A short figure walked up the police station's stairs quickly up to me, his bald head hidden by a fedora hat. He whispered a few words to the senior officer in the station. One of those words must have included 'take your team of muggins and go' because the whole station filed out until it was him and I. The man sat next to me and shifted in his seat.

You might be wondering who this man is. Well, let me tell you, dear reader, this man is none other than my boss, Lorenzo Cortez. I would like to tell you one thing about my relationship with him- I blame him partially for the death of my family. Now let's continue.

"Good morning, sir", I said, not bothering to stand in salute. "My dear man I do hope you are alright. This event must have shaken you." A silent pause occurred before Lorenzo looked to meet my eyes. "But...this event is quite a fruitful one for it has given me a chance to meet with you. It has saved me from unnecessary calls to the office to meet you, that is for sure".

At this remark, I was most confused. It was not of Lorenzo to want to meet me, at least not after my family's death. But his physical body told me he wished to meet me. At the most, this conversation would either lead me to tears or fear. I prayed I was wrong.

But I wasn't.

"You see Victor, the infant you have found is no ordinary child. She presumably belongs to an affluent man by the name of Claude Huxley.

"What", I cried.

"Well, we aren't certain, but the signs are pointing that way. Now what's important is that you've written in your statement that you saw him and what you thought to be his wife discarding the baby at the dumpsters. Correct me if I am wrong, dear boy". I nodded, not looking too lost about where this was headed.

"Well,", the old man mumbled uncomfortably "we've been in contact with his secretary, and it seems that he was at the golf club along with a few associates. And if my man, you are correct and the alibis this man has suggested are false, we need evidence to prove that the child you have found is his, and who the lady you found with him was".

"I don't understand", I broke off. The man I saw crying didn't seem like a rich man at all. The lady with him seemed like the type but not him, for sure. And how, after I had seen him weep so helplessly, is he denying that the child was his? Was I not considering any other factors here?

"Sir, have you tried to find the lady", I asked with a renewed interest. If this man was being influenced by the woman, I saw him with, it could change our whole perspective.

"We can't do that quite yet", was what I got as a reply. "The woman seems not to be an American citizen, which is where we require your assistance".

"Assistance", I laughed. "Sir you come here to ask a broken man whether or not he'll help investigate the background of a couple who doesn't seem to want their daughter. If you personally ask me, I think the child would be better off living at an orphanage for goodness sake".

I decided mentally if I wanted to cry at that point or just sit tight and turn numb once again. The police station was dim, only lit by a bulb and the thought of bankruptcy blurred in with the thoughts of guilt, anger and sorrow. If it was my daughter in that case, I would have begged for anyone who could even manipulate the odds just an inch to our side, I would sell to them the world and all inhabitants. My daughter had me, and her mother, who had died trying to protect her. This girl, however, had nobody. Whatever had sent me her way, they knew that I was to protect this girl.

"Well alright", I said in defeat. "You win. Now tell me what should I assist you with. Emailing the girl's dad? Or finding her mother?

"It's a teensy bit more complex than that", he replied in an uneasy voice. "You'll have to..."

I could laugh at this man's uncertainty. Here I was, trying to feel good about offering to help. Instead, this man who sat across me, a powerful man, was shaking as to whether or not he wanted to tell me how I could help him.

"Come on", I joked, in a much more better mood at this man's quavering. "My guilt won't drag me down much longer".

My joke caused a crease to form between Lorenzo's eyebrows. That was not a good sign. The air of the room felt much more queasy and it felt much harder to breathe. The station door fluttered open and shut, bringing cold air into the room. It felt much more uncomfortable than the past few minutes of our conversation. Our silence- much more uncomfortable than our speech. I felt remorse towards the joke I had cracked a few moments ago. There was something wrong in this room. It felt like those parts in a movie when the hero was going to get some big news, and this wasn't good news as most movie lovers know.

"Victor, I need you to go to Russia tonight".

A/N: Hi everyone. Thanks for reading so far. I know I might not be the best at rolling in the crowds as you could say, but pls pls pls don't forget to vote. Much love🤍🖤💜