The Bride Widow
Chapter 172: The concerns - Part 3

Chapter 172: 172: The concerns - Part 3

The sun hung low in the sky when the police arrived at Jackson’s estate, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. Two officers, their expressions grim and professional, approached the grand entrance.

They were met by a stone-faced butler who, after a brief exchange, led them into the main sitting room where Jackson awaited, lounging in a high-backed chair, his demeanor one of cold indifference.

"Mr. Jackson," one officer began, his tone polite but firm. "We’re here to ask you a few questions regarding the recent disappearance of Lucy."

Jackson raised a brow, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. "Lucy? I’m afraid I don’t recall anyone by that name."

The officer didn’t flinch. "She was reported missing a few days ago. We have reason to believe you might have information, given your past relationship with her."

At this, Jackson let out a dry laugh, the sound echoing unnaturally in the room.

"Relationship? Lucy was nothing more than a casual acquaintance. A passerby, someone to have a bit of fun with. I certainly wouldn’t waste my time or emotions on her."

The officers exchanged uneasy glances. Jackson’s callous words made their stomachs churn, but they pressed on. "It’s just a routine inquiry, Mr. Jackson. We need to rule out all possible angles, including jealousy or any possible motive for harming Miss Matthews."

Jackson leaned forward, his expression darkening. "Jealousy? Over someone like her? I don’t even remember what she looks like now. She was... forgettable."

There was a pause, heavy and suffocating, as the officers absorbed his chilling indifference. Jackson noticed their discomfort and leaned back again, his cold gaze never wavering. "Are we done here, gentlemen? Because I don’t appreciate being accused on my own property."

One officer cleared his throat. "We’re not accusing you, Mr. Jackson. We’re just—"

"Leave," Jackson interrupted, his voice hard as steel. "Before I have you removed. I won’t tolerate being harassed in my own home."

The officers hesitated for a moment but ultimately stood, knowing they couldn’t escalate the situation without further evidence. "We’ll be in touch if we have more questions, Mr. Jackson."

Jackson didn’t respond, merely watching them with a disdainful glare until they exited the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, his mask of indifference crumbled, replaced by a storm of fury.

He paced the room, his mind racing with thoughts of the police’s visit, their suspicions, and the nerve they had to confront him.

After a few minutes, Jackson took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn’t let his emotions control him now; he had more important matters to attend to. Composed once again, he made his way to the basement.

Descending the cold, concrete steps, Jackson’s mind sharpened with a singular focus. At the bottom, in the dim, cold light of the basement, lay Lucy.

She was unconscious, her body sprawled on a cot, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. A small, empty vial rested on a nearby table—the sedative had worked perfectly.

Jackson approached, his gaze softening as he took in her fragile form. For a moment, a flicker of something almost human crossed his face—guilt, perhaps, or regret. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the calculated expression he always wore.

"You should have stayed away," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Lucy’s face. "But you didn’t, and now you’re here. All because of her. Anabella."

The mention of Anabella brought a sneer to his lips. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. This wasn’t just about Lucy anymore; it was about setting an example, sending a message. Anabella had interfered one too many times, and now she would see the consequences of her actions.

Jackson stood, his mind whirring with plans and possibilities. He would have to move quickly, keep the police at bay, and ensure Lucy remained out of sight. He couldn’t afford any slip-ups now.

With one last glance at Lucy, Jackson turned and ascended the stairs, each step echoing ominously in the stillness of the basement. His mind was already onto the next move, calculating every angle, every potential threat.

Back in the sitting room, Jackson poured himself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like liquid fire. He took a long sip, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, steeling himself for the days to come.

No, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

______

Anabella woke up the next morning with a dull ache in her head, but it was the kind that felt oddly liberating. The events of the previous day weighed heavily on her, but the comfort of knowing Clair and Noah had been there to support her eased her anxiety a little.

The faint morning light streamed through the curtains, and for the first time in days, Anabella felt a semblance of peace.

As she sat up, Clair appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with a hearty breakfast. "Feeling ready to eat something?" Clair asked with a soft smile.

Anabella nodded, her stomach grumbling in response. "I think I can manage," she said, grateful for the gesture. The two of them moved to the small dining area where Noah joined them, setting the table with care.

The three ate together in comfortable silence, the food nourishing both body and spirit. Anabella savored each bite, the warmth of the meal melting some of her lingering fears. As they finished, Clair broke the silence.

"We’ve been discussing it, and Noah and I think it’s best if we look into those calls you’ve been getting."

Anabella’s heart sank at the thought of them getting involved in her problems, but she lacked the courage to argue. Instead, she nodded, feeling embarrassed that she had to rely on others for her needs. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. "I appreciate your help."

Sensing her discomfort, Clair reached across the table, squeezing Anabella’s hand gently. "You’re not alone in this, Anabella. We’ll get through it together."

Anabella quickly prompted them to leave, needing some time to herself to process everything. Once they were gone, she hurried to get ready for work, hoping to regain a sense of normalcy. At the bakery, her manager greeted her with a concerned expression.

"Anabella, can we talk for a moment?" her manager asked, gesturing toward the office.

Anabella followed, curiosity piqued. Once inside, her manager shut the door and turned to face her. "The police have asked us to come down to the station. They want to discuss Lucy’s case."

Anabella’s heart fluttered with a mix of hope and anxiety. "Did they find something?"

Her manager shook their head, their expression somber. "They didn’t say, but we need to go and see what they have."

The ride to the police station was filled with silent anticipation. Anabella’s mind raced with possibilities, each more worrisome than the last. When they arrived, an officer led them to a small room where they waited for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, a detective entered, his face a mask of professionalism. "Thank you for coming in. We’ve been conducting a thorough search for Lucy, but so far, our efforts have been fruitless."

Anabella’s shoulders sagged, the small flicker of hope she held extinguished by the detective’s words. "What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We’ll continue to search, but we’re also broadening our investigation. We’ve questioned several people and are following up on leads. However, we need you to be vigilant and report anything unusual."

Anabella nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and determination. "Of course. Anything to help find Lucy."

The detective handed them a few pamphlets on staying safe and left the room, leaving Anabella and her manager to absorb the news. The drive back to the bakery was subdued, each lost in their thoughts.

Back at work, Anabella threw herself into her tasks, trying to find solace in the familiar routines of baking.

The comforting rhythm of kneading dough and the warm scent of bread provided a brief escape from the whirlwind of fear and uncertainty.

Yet, in the back of her mind, the worry for Lucy lingered, a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Throughout the day, Anabella kept glancing at her phone, half expecting another ominous message or call. But the screen remained silent, a small mercy amidst the chaos.

As the day drew to a close, she cleaned up and prepared to leave, exhaustion weighing heavily on her.

Walking home, Anabella kept her senses sharp, eyes darting to every shadow and ear tuned to every sound.

The paranoia gnawed at her, but she pushed forward, determined to reach the safety of her apartment. When she finally locked the door behind her, a wave of relief washed over her.

That night, as she lay in bed, sleep eluded her.

Anabella stared at the ceiling, her mind churning with thoughts of Lucy and the mysterious messages. She clutched her phone tightly, wishing for an end to this nightmare.

The silence of the apartment was broken only by the soft ticking of the clock, each second stretching into eternity. Anabella prayed that tomorrow would bring answers or, at the very least, some semblance of peace.

Tip: You can use left, right keyboard keys to browse between chapters.Tap the middle of the screen to reveal Reading Options.

If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.

Report