Unknown

She sat at a smaller desk, booted up the computer and quickly verified her off-shore bank account had been credited the five hundred thousand dollars. She logged off and swiveled in the chair to face him.

"How can you even see out of those things?" Derek asked.

"More importantly, how can you even see into them?" she asked and gave him a quick smile.

"Uh huh, anyway, new objectives..." Derek said and typed rapidly on his computer keyboard.

Victoria turned and looked at her monitor.

A beautiful brunette's face popped up on the screen, followed by a front profile of her entire body, then a side profile. A heart shaped tattoo popped up, with the word "Danielle" inside of it.

"Vanessa Brady, age twenty three, Caucasian, lives at..." Derek intoned.

"I can read, Derek, thank you," Victoria said as the images and words flashed on the screen at a dizzying rate.

"Uh huh," Derek coughed, then sipped his ever-present coffee.

Victoria stood, nodded curtly at Derek, and then walked to the elevator.

"Anyway, you've got one week," Derek said.

"One week?" Victoria asked. "Why only one week?"

"Trial starts following Thursday," Derek said.

"Oh," Victoria said and got onto the elevator.

She was a sociopath; she did not ask why the objective had to die. She didn't care. That was part of what made her very good at her job. She didn't care.

Derek valued her for that reason; she didn't pry into the why of the agency, just the who, what, where and went. Why wasn't important, and How was of her own discretion.

And most of the time her How looked like an accident, or a suicide, or a natural cause of death, leaving very few questions, and very little chance it would get back to the agency.

----

The woman with the very short brown hair exited the building and sauntered to the bus stop, short skirt swishing as she walked, and high heels clacking on the sidewalk.

She smiled a sassy little smile at the construction worker as the bus rumbled close. She lifted her sunglasses and looked him directly in the eye. He could see the crow's feet at the corners, noticed she was a little too old for the outfit she was wearing. She then put her sunglasses back down and dug into her large purse for the proper change for the bus.

"Tell you what, sweetie, give me a little kiss; I'll pay the fucking bus for you," the construction worker said.

"Thanks, honey, but y'all a little too white for me," Victoria smiled. "Know what I'm saying?"

"Aw fuck, what ever," the construction worker said, disgusted.

She got onto the crowded bus and held onto the rail as the bus lumbered to downtown.

A hand rubbed on her bare ass cheek for a moment, then grew a little bolder and gave her ass a squeeze.

She brought the heel of her shoe down onto the man's foot. He sucked in a great lungful of air and bent over to grab his injured foot. When he bent forward, she brought the heel of her foot back to strike him directly in the face.

The construction worker clutched at his bloody nose, groaning.

"Oops!" she giggled over her shoulder. "Should have been a gentleman and offered a lady your seat, know what I'm saying?"

----

Detective LaRocca went over Melanie's interrogation again, but could find no reason to bring Melanie in for more questioning. He was sure she knew something, though.

"Man, just fucking let it go, huh?" Detective Graham, his partner said and coughed heartily for a moment.

"Let me ask you something; they hadn't been rag heads, you be so quick to say 'let it go,' huh?" Detective LaRocca snapped.

"Man, way I'm feeling right now, I'd say 'let it go' if they'd been a bunch of fucking nuns," Detective Graham said and coughed into his handkerchief for a solid minute, eyes watering.

"Fuck, go home, huh?" Detective LaRocca snapped.

"Can't, my wife might be there," his partner said and coughed again.

----

Melanie listlessly shoved the microwave dinner into her mouth. With a sigh, she got up and threw the majority of the unappetizing meal into the garbage can.

She grabbed her purse and strode out the door.

The bartender nodded in greeting as Melanie took a seat. He put a drink down in front of a woman with short brown hair, and then looked over his shoulder at Melanie again. He shrugged to the brunette and walked over to where Melanie sat.

"Woman would like to buy you a drink," he said, bored.

"Um, tell her thank you, but I'm kind of seeing someone right now," Melanie stammered, blushing hotly.

Twice in two nights, women were buying her drinks. Could they just look at her and tell she was gay?

The bartender shrugged and returned to the brunette. The brunette looked over at Melanie and glared hotly.

"Well, fuck you!" the brunette drunkenly slurred.

She wobbled down off of her bar stool and walked over to where a shocked Melanie sat. Her high heeled pumps were obviously not helping her balance in the least and her short skirt was too short, her tank top too snug across her slightly large breasts.

"Just fuck you, bitch! I'm so God damned sick and tired of you fucking red heads! Just because you're so fucking beautiful doesn't give you the right to shit all over the rest of us, stuck up cunt!" the woman screamed at Melanie.

"I'm, what?" Melanie sputtered.

No one had ever accused Melanie of being beautiful.

"Walk in here all sexy and shit, think you fucking own the world, huh?" the woman drunkenly spat at Melanie. "Well, fuck you, Red! I'm beautiful too! Just because I don't have red hair doesn't mean I ain't fucking beautiful too!"

The woman burst into hot tears and stormed out of the bar.

"Um, get you anything?" the bartender asked.

"Vodka and tonic," Melanie stammered, returning her attention to the bartender.

"You got it," the man said and quickly fixed her drink.

"No one's ever said I was beautiful before," Melanie wondered out loud. "Shit, all my life, people just made fun of my red hair and freckles and all."

"Yeah?" the bartender smiled sadly. "Hadn't had prostrate cancer ten years ago, I'd be all over you like white on rice."

Melanie's cell phone buzzed and she took it out.

"Hello?" she asked, still shaking from the confrontation.

"Hey Freckle Face," Melanie heard her blonde lover's voice husk into her ear.

"Melanie!" she excitedly squealed.

"Hey, I'm sorry I was so vague this morning, but you know how it is," the warm loving voice continued. "I never know how long these trips will take, you know?"

"Hey, Melanie, let me ask you something and I need you to be honest with me, all right?" Melanie excitedly said into her phone.

"You got it," her lover said.

"Melanie, am I, you think I'm beautiful?" Melanie asked.

"Absolutely," her lover said without hesitation. "That's why I was so afraid of approaching you; I just knew someone as beautiful as you already had a lover, you know?"

"Nope, just you," Melanie giggled.

"Listen, Freckle Face, I got to go," the voice said. "I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?"

"I love you so much," Melanie admitted, even though she knew she was talking to dead air.

----

The brunette dropped her cell phone into her large handbag, tugged on the wig to make sure it was securely in place and sauntered down the dark street. Even though she was still replaying her brief conversation with Melanie, she was very much aware of her surroundings.

"Yo, bitch," the black man sneered as he approached the brunette. "What you got in that bag, huh?"

"Got a lot of Nunya," the brunette responded, continuing her leisurely stroll.

"Nunya? What the fuck Nunya?" the man asked, puzzled.

"Nunya fucking business," the woman said.

"Oh, I think it's a lot of my business," the man said, pulling out a snub nose pistol.

The first kick knocked the pistol out of his hand, the second kick crushed his larynx, and the third kick pushed him flat on his back.

"Nope, it's nunya," the brunette said and skipped up the stairs into the apartment building.

She tried the elevator button a few times but it did not respond. Sighing, she opened the door to the stairwell and began the five flight trudge.

"Hey," she greeted Vanessa Brady as the young woman was struggling to carry a baby and lug a stroller up the stairs.

"Hey," Vanessa sighed, clearly frustrated.

"Here, let me..." the brunette said and lifted the eight month old baby out of Vanessa's arms. "I'll carry her, you carry the stroller; what floor you live on?"

"Fifth; fucking elevator ain't worked in three God damned months but son of a bitch landlord ain't in no fucking hurry fix the fucking thing," Vanessa shrilled.

"Shh, shh, Mommy isn't mad at you," the brunette soothed to the infant.

"What floor you live on?" Vanessa asked as the woman continued to trudge ahead of her.

"Five; just moved into five twenty," the brunette said casually.

"Mrs. Henner's place?" Vanessa asked. "Well, it WAS her place, then she just up and moved out."

"Yeah, I'm still getting her mail," the brunette agreed.

She lowered her voice to confide in Vanessa, "She sure did get a bunch of dirty magazines!"

"Oh yeah?" Vanessa asked, surprised.

"Yeah, Hustler, Penthouse, and I'm like 'what's some old woman doing getting this kind of stuff?' and them I'm like, 'Uh Duh! She's into girls!'" the brunette giggled.

"Ew!" Vanessa screeched. "And here we are," Vanessa sighed as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Well, all right then," the brunette said as she put the baby into a high chair.

"Thanks; appreciate your help," Vanessa said.

"Uh huh," the brunette said as she looked around the dingy apartment.

The furniture was cheap, much of it very worn, battered.

"Yeah, hate this place," Vanessa said as she saw the other woman looking around. "Hopefully, after Thursday, though, this'll all be in the past, you know?"

"Why? What happens Thursday? Winning the lottery?" the brunette asked, tapping her foot unconsciously.

"No, taking Danielle's deadbeat dad to court for child support," Vanessa said as she took Danielle's food out of the cupboard.

"Oh yeah?" the brunette asked.

"Yeah, mother fucker's all like 'ain't my kid,' and I'm like 'yeah it is; who else I been fucking?' and he's all pissed off 'cause he knows it's his kid, but he's married and he's all afraid his wife's going to find out and..." Vanessa prattled.

The brunette stepped up behind Vanessa and snapped her neck. She laid the lifeless body on the floor, and then finished preparing Danielle's dinner.

"Mama," Danielle fussed as the brunette fed her dinner.

"shh, shh, Mama's sleeping right now," the brunette said to the beautiful little girl.

She then changed the girl's diaper, warmed up a bottle of formula and lay the infant down in her battered, cheap crib.

She easily picked Vanessa's body up, carried it to the bathroom, and stripped the woman. She put one leg into the bathtub, dropped the bar of soap into the tub, and lay the body onto the floor. It looked as if Vanessa had stepped into the tub, stepped on the bar of soap, and fell backward, breaking her neck in the fall.

Then she put the stopper into the tub and started the bathwater.

----

"Door to door," Detective LaRocca ordered the two officers. "Somebody had to have seen something."

The Coroner's office personnel concluded their assessment and placed the black man into a bag and zipped it closed.

"Wind pipe was crushed; he didn't do that to himself," Detective LaRocca snapped as one of the gurney handlers jokingly said, "Must have been suicide."

The Medical Examiner was notorious for putting 'Suicide' or 'Suspected Suicide' on the more difficult cases, rather than do a full investigation. This was particularly true if the body was African American.

----

"Who is it?" Officer James Burdon heard a harsh female voice when he knocked on Apartment 520.

"Police, ma'am, like to ask you a few questions please," Officer Burdon barked.

"What you want?" the old woman asked after cracking the door only an inch and peering around the crack at the young police officer.

"Ma'am, there was a young black man. Downstairs? Was wondering if you knew anything about..." Officer Burdon asked.

"No, that's the one always trying to grab my purse? Huh? The one always yelling stuff when I'm minding my own business? Why you can't just lock him up?" the old woman shrilled, opening the door fully to confront the police officer.

"Ma'am, please..." Officer Burdon said wearily.

"Why there water all over the floor?" the woman asked. "You bring that in my house, huh?"

"What the fuck?" Officer Burdon's partner, Officer Barry Smith snapped, looking at the floor.

"Coming from here," Officer burdon said, pointing to Apartment 517.

They knocked, then knocked harder. Finally, Officer Smith used his nightstick to rap on the door and they heard an infant cry.

"Break the door," Officer Smith nodded to Officer Burndon as the other officer was slightly more muscular than his partner.

"Uh huh," Officer Burdon sighed, then kicked the door in.

----

Melanie lay in her bed, humming happily. She was in love.

She'd been in love before, but had never had the courage to tell the object of her affection that she loved them. She realized now, that those had been silly schoolgirl crushes.

This, the love she felt for her Melanie, her blonde Melanie, this was real.

"She thinks I'm beautiful," Melanie giggled out loud.

----

"What you going to do with her baby?" the old woman shrilled at the police officer as he bundled Danielle in a blanket.

"Children's Services," he responded.

"Place her in foster care until we can find next of kin," Detective LaRocca wearily said. "Someone call the super about this water?"

"And call him about that elevator, huh?" the old woman shrilled as the police milled about. "Thing's been broken for years now; ain't never done nothing about it."

"No shit, having to walk five flights of stairs," Detective LaRocca agreed. "Tell him next time I got to walk five flights of stairs, I'll find something to lock his ass up for."

"Yeah, heaven forbid you should have to get any kind of exercise," his partner mumbled.

"Fuck you," Detective LaRocca spat.

Chapter 5

Derek watched, amused, as the old woman hobbled into the lobby of the building.

He switched the monitor to the interior camera and blinked.

The old woman was nowhere to be seen.

Then he heard the bell, signaling that the service elevator was being drawn to the penthouse. He rapidly typed in the monitor's code for the service elevator and smiled as Victoria stood, red baseball cap and oversized sunglasses obscuring her features from the camera.

"Hello Vickie," he said as she entered his sanctuary.

"Derek," she nodded.

After he had given permission, she checked her bank account.

"Fifty?" she asked, swiveling in her chair.

"The child's still alive," Derek shrugged.

"The objective was the mother, Vanessa Brady; the order did not mention the child at all," Victoria countered.

Derek's face tightened . If Vickie said the order did not include the child, she was right. She possessed a photographic memory and missed nothing.

"Fine, fine, I apologize," he said, typed rapidly on his keyboard and sighed as he transferred another fifty thousand dollars to her account.

"Now," he said. "The child."

Victoria looked at him for a long moment, waiting.

"Nothing else?" she finally asked.

"No, not at this time," he said and again typed rapidly on his keyboard.

"Okay, bye," Victoria said and walked over to the elevator.

----

Selma Crandall looked up as the large black woman waddled over to where she said.

"Hey, I'm looking for Miss Crandall," the black woman said in a surprisingly high pitched, almost childish voice.

"That's MRS. Not MISS," Selma spat.

"Oh, sorry, they didn't say one way or the other," the woman said. "Anyway, I'm Priscilla. Ames. You supposed be my new supervisor."

"Great, have a seat at..." Selma snarled and looked around for an open workstation.

She sighed and got to her feet.

"Oh, I love them slippers," Priscilla Ames said as Selma padded over to the next row of workstations and found a vacant station.

"Records are on the 'U' drive, requisitions too," Selma said and limped back to her own workstation.

"She always likes that?" Priscilla asked the scrawny man to her left.

"Her?" the man lisped, very obviously gay. "Oh don't mind her; she resents everything and everybody. She is your stereotypical Government Employee, knows an atomic bomb couldn't get her fired and trying her best to prove it to anyone that gives a damn!"

Priscilla typed on the keyboard and smiled

She sent the print request to the group printer and waddled over to the machine.

Then she put the printout into her purse.

She then typed out another request, read the information and then looked over at her fellow employee. He was busy chatting on-line with his lover. The employee to her right was playing Tetris on her computer.

"Where you going?" Selma snarled as Priscilla Ames waddled to the door.

"Doctor's appointment; told you that ten minutes ago," Priscilla spat back at the surly supervisor.

----

Bonnie Cosgrove had her hands full with the three children Children's Services had left in her care, but thankfully, Danielle Brady was an easy addition. The girl wasn't walking yet, wasn't talking yet, and wasn't very fussy.

"Children's Services," Priscilla Ames said, showing Bonnie the ID card. "Just dropping by to pick up a..."

Priscilla checked her file folder.

"Daniel Brady," she read out.

"You mean 'Danielle,'" Bonnie snapped.

"Huh?" Priscilla asked, blinking.

"Danielle, not Daniel, it's a girl," Bonnie snapped.

"Oh, yeah!" Priscilla laughed. "Anyway, we done found her maternal grandmother so we be stopping by, you know?"

Priscilla took the blonde baby into her pudgy arms and left a packet on the dirty table for Bonnie Cosgrove.

----

Melanie giggled out loud when her phone chirped.

"Hey, Freckle Face," Melanie heard her lover's sweet voice.

"Hey Melanie," Melanie giggled.

"Melanie, can I, I um, I got a real serious question to ask you," her lover said.

"What? What is it?" Melanie asked, losing her smile.

"Um, how you feel about babies?" her lover asked. "See, the thing of it is, I got a nine month old; her name's Pearl and..."

"I love babies," Melanie declared. "When I was little, my mother made me watch all her friends' babies, I got three dollars an hour and..."

"Melanie, I need a really big favor," her lover interrupted her.

----

Victoria looked both ways and slipped into Apartment 517. Quickly, she gathered up all of Danielle's toys, a few extra diapers, bottles, and all of Danielle's clothes she also shoved the child's blanket and small pillow into the diaper bag.

A quick search of Vanessa's bedroom revealed a small cross and chain but no other jewelry.

"Something for you to remember your momma by," Victoria muttered aloud and added it to the small cache.

Again, she searched the hallway, then slipped out of the apartment and into the stairwell.

"Finally, huh?" she said as she quickly changed the child's filthy diaper.

----

Selma Crandall looked around and stomped back to her own desk.

That new member, Priscilla Ames, was no where to be found.

"Show up, aunt even here five minutes, don't come back, huh, think I'm have that in my department? I don't think so," she muttered to herself.

"Oh, but I'm still here," the gay man taunted.

"Hush, Elliot," Selma grumbled.

----

"Oh my God, Melanie, she's gorgeous!" Melanie cooed as the baby stroller was pushed into the apartment.

"Melanie, sweetie, I, we got to talk, Baby, okay?" Victoria said and urged the red head to the couch.

"What? What's wrong?" Melanie asked, voice quavering.