Chapter 3

Peter's POV

I heard her at the door. "Goodnight, Peter." She whispered before closing the door up tight, until the latch was securely in the wall.

Back in the day, she'd leave me with a babysitter often. I understood why – she had to work, of course, not like she had to make money to pay for food or anything – but, still, I was sad to see her leave. So much so, that I use to stay awake after bedtime to have her say goodnight to me. It was soothing and comforting.

Pathetically, it still was.

Why do I say 'pathetically?' Because I'm fifteen and still find comfort in mom saying goodnight to me, I mean, how terrible is that?

I never cared about going to school without a goodbye or her leaving for work without giving me a hug, never. I grew out of that. It was simple to forget about those things. But for some, stupid, reason I like when she says goodnight. I should be old enough to fall asleep without mommy-dearest coming in. It's so bad, I can't even say how bad it is.

Thinking back, I guess because when she says it, it was the only time I ever felt like she showed true emotion. For once her eyes weren't dead strong or tired and grumpy, they were soft and warm and her voice was finally not take charge, angry, frustrated, monotone, or any of the other billion ways it could be, it was slow and happy.

Is it weird to be nostalgic at my age? I mean I'm not that old, but I feel like I've suddenly turned into a rusty, old, grump when I think about the past. Probably the reason I don't do it often.

As my eyes begin to flutter shut, I begin to think "screw it" before going to sleep.

The next morning, I am awoken by the most unpleasant of sights. A man. Shocking, I know. He was larger than me but still slightly gangly. His arms were twiggy and he wore a black t-shirt and jeans.

Eck. Why couldn't it at least be a girl?

Still being in my sleep stages, I can attest that it was not me who made the girly scream just seconds before I jolted awake. I backed up against my headboard, the wood brushing my hair as I rested my head against it, discarding my comforter as I did so.

"Hold up! You're her kid." He exclaimed quietly. Suddenly a bright, eye-killing light, lit up the room. Turning my head away, I notice the window open and my curtains slowly blowing out into the room as the crisp breeze puffs them outwards.

"Did you climb through my window?" I call to him, irritated. "I'm not Rapunzel, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, kid. I need you to look at the camera." He ignored me. How could he ignore me?

I cover my face with my hands, so that all of his shots are ruined. "This is illegal!"

"Freedom of Press." Oh, now he answers. Jerk.

Suddenly, my bedroom door smashes open with a loud bang. The type that shakes the roof and knocks pictures off the wall. It's also the type that makes crazy photographers jump out of their skins.

Only one person that could do that.

"Mom." I whisper, turning my head in that direction.

She looks pissed off, more than usual. That unemotional façade that she likes to wear with her make up is completely thrown away.

"You're her!" He takes pictures of her, too. She didn't even blink before swiping her leg under his feet and taking him to the ground easily. She grabbed the camera and ripped it off his neck with a large snap. She threw the camera to me and slammed him on his front so that she could handcuff him. "You're arrested for breaking and entering." I've seen her do this so many times, but I was still in shock of some dude landing in my room that I felt like I was seeing it for the first time.

She tucks her hand into his shirt and lifts him up in one large swoop. Basically, dragging him by his shirt, she forces him out of the room. I hear him tumble, nosily, down the staircase. He was apologizing the whole time. Then, I hear the front door ripped off its hinges, the man tossed to the curb, and her slamming the door shut.

While this is happening, I turn my attention to the camera. Taking out the memory card, I separate the two, then check for any backup storage. There wasn't any. But at least mom has evidence of breaking and entering from the pictures when she sues his ass.

"Peter?" I hear from the doorway. Mom stands at the door, one hand on the frame, the other on her hip. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." I respond. "What the heck happened?"

"Just some press from the case I'm working on."

"You've never had press before. Not at home at least." I realize that I'm being overly suspicious. But when a random dude crashes your already non-existent sleep, it more than fair to ask questions.

"This is a very special case."

"What case is it?"

"No need to worry about that, Peter."

"Mom." I moaned. "We promised no secrets."

I held up my pinkie from when we swore back when I was little that we'd have no secrets with each other. That's when she told me about the fact that I was adopted.

I can tell she's debating on whether or not to tell me. I've just lived with her so long that even the slight twitch of her eyeballs give it away, but to most people she'd probably look like she was standing complete confident and stoic. As if she had done nothing.

I really wish I could master that. It would be so much easier than telling my teachers that I hadn't done the homework.

Eventually, she sighs. Grabbing the askew, wooden, desk chair, she turns is around fully, sitting on it backwards. Resting her arms on the back, she stares back at me.

"Recently, there is a new development in one of my old cases. You see, back when you were small, I worked on the Tracy Howard case. Tracy, was a woman who was having an affair with a man named, Christian Howard. However, she was married to the very powerful senator, Richard Daft, had a big diamond ring and everything. Together they had two children: Anna and Maddie. But because of the affair, eventually, they filed for divorce. Tracy went off and married Christian not to long after, taking the children with her and publicly disgracing Daft's reputation."

"So, what's that got to do with you?"

"Months after the marriage between Christian and Tracy, Tracy began to feel like she was being watched. Overtime, she became paranoid about it and asked for some security and investigation. Originally, we had thought that it was her ex-husband, Richard, but when Tracy was murdered later that year, Richard and an air-tight alibi."

"He hired a hitman, maybe?"

"That's what we thought too, but we could never find evidence to support it. The next most logical choice was to investigate her husband, Christian. However, when we did we found that we were denied entry to their household even with a warrant. We had to force ourselves inside. We tried kicking the door in but it was blocked from the inside. I shot at the lock, unaware that one of their daughters had been standing behind the door. That's when we finally got the door opened. However, what happened next is a bit strange."

I nod, urging her to continue.

"We were suddenly being shot out ourselves. I couldn't see the culprit but I saw the dark shadow figure and started to retaliate. They were shoot wildly at us, one of which hit me in the shoulder."

I remembered that. When my mom was in the hospital after being shot, she acted like it was no big deal. I cried a lot though. I honestly thought she was going to die. I mean, at the time, I didn't think you could survive a bullet at all. Clint use to make fun of me for it, especially when he had to come babysit me when she had physical therapy. Man, that had to be like eight years ago, what a long time for a case to come back.

I look back at her. There was more she wanted to say. I could tell, otherwise she would have left already.

"There's more isn't there?"

She nodded. "Most of the time when we shoot, it's more of a warning shot. Not really intended to hit the target, but I was in such a defensive state that I aimed directly at the figure and shot. One bullet was all it took to take the culprit down, but when we finally calmed down, we realized that I had, unknowingly shot one of his daughters. Anna to be specific.

My eyes opened wide at the pure shock of knowing this. I had never known my mom to accidently shoot anyone, though I suppose it wasn't an accident, per se. She intended to stop the attack, but just simply didn't take in the fact that there were others in the home.

"What happened to her?"

"I had shot her in the back of the neck and she became paralyzed from the waist down."

"What about the case?"

"We found the evidence we needed to charge Christian for Tracy's murder. He was sent to prison, though I think he's on parole somewhere and Anna and Maddie went to live with their father, Richard. But, only months after the incident, Anna died."

I breathed out, for the first time since this story started. "Jeez, mom. You have a screwed up job."

She chuckled slightly. Then something occurred to me. "But why is that all affecting us now?"

"Recent developments with other cases have led to a body, Eddie Chavez. His bones were found on a trail in the foothills. Along with the bones, came a ring."

She looked up, seriously. He eyes deadly and angry. "Tracy's ring."

Good back story? Good enough to start an investigation?

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