Chapter 3 - Emilee

Emilee awoke drenched in sweat, the remnants of a restless night following her late-night shift. The previous night, she had almost been involved in a shootout with a mysterious woman driving a hire car.

Emilee normally worked as a crime scene investigator and had examined a hire car riddled with bullet holes the previous morning. Therefore, while she was on late-night highway duty, when a woman matching the exact description of the driver, who had fled the scene of the damaged hire car, drove past her in the dead of night. Emilee had to find a reason to pull her over. Fortunately, the woman was speeding, providing Emilee a legitimate motive to do so. The hire company had corroborated her identity to be Fredricka Page. The problem was that the only Fredricka Page on record was an elderly woman residing on the opposite side of the country, a far cry from the woman she had encountered. It was a routine stop, until Fredricka shuffled in her seat. At this moment Emilee knew Fredricka had a gun and the upper hand in the case of a shootout. Against her better judgement, Emilee decided to give her a warning and let her go.

The hire car company had tracked Fredricka's vehicle to a hotel across town, where it had been parked for the night. Today was supposed to be Emilee's day off, but being a workaholic, she had chosen to work regardless. The department was severely understaffed, so her boss had given her permission to work on her days off. Once in the office she called the hire car company again. The car had not moved.

Determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Fredricka, Emilee headed over to the hotel where Fredricka had been staying, parking her car inconspicuously and patiently waiting for her to leave, hoping she hadn't missed her already. The streets were calm, despite the turmoil the Second Evolution was predicted to cause. Soon enough, a woman dressed in an elegant yellow dress, as if going to a gala, exited the hotel. Emilee almost didn't recognize her, but it was definitely Fredricka. Fredricka gracefully entered a luxury limousine, which then drove a short distance to an upmarket restaurant. Emilee observed them from her car, watching the couple enjoy their breakfast, her own stomach rumbling. As Emilee watched the breakfast, she could not help but feel something was off with the situation. The man, who seemed like a powerful businessman, exuded a repugnant aura of sleaze. Based on the one brief encounter Emilee had with Fredricka, she did not seem the type to be interested in someone for their money, nor did she lack confidence. Emilee wondered what had drawn Fredricka to this man. Initially Emilee had planned to accost her as she left the restaurant, but her curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to see where this would lead.

After breakfast, the couple headed to a nearby bank, where they parked. The man and Fredricka both stepped out of the limousine, followed by an entourage of security. Emilee quickly found a hat and changed her jacket, trying not to look like a police officer. A few minutes later Emilee entered the bank and joined the line for the tellers. The line was long, so she had some time before arousing suspicion. In line, she observed the man and Fredricka standing near a door to the side, which opened shortly after. The security personnel remained in the bank's lobby, while Fredricka and the sleazy man entered the door and disappeared from sight.

With their departure, Emilee abandoned her place in line and approached a nearby security guard, who seemed to be struggling a little. The man was tall but appeared too young and thin for this sort of job. His position didn't provide a direct view of the door they had entered, but Emilee hoped he would have some information.

"Excuse me sir." Emilee addressed the guard.

"Yes, miss, how can I help you?" the man replied, his breath laboured.

Emilee discreetly scanned the area, ensuring the private security guards were neither within view nor earshot.

"Inspector Emilee Dean, Metropolitan police," she said, pulling out her badge.

"Hello Inspector Dean, how can I help you?"

"What is through that door across the way there," Emilee inquired, pointing in the general direction of the door.

"That's the private vault, Inspector," the guard responded, a slight strain evident in his breath.

"Whose vault is it?"

"Unfortunately, I can't disclose that information without a warrant,"

"I suspected as much," Emilee sighed.

The man coughed and winced in pain.

"Are you okay?" Asked Emilee.

"Yes inspector, all good, just took a blow to the chest yesterday, so I am struggling a little,"

Emilee leant in slightly and read the man's badge. Trevor Helion.

"Thank you Trevor, take care of yourself," smiled Emilee, expressing her genuine worry.

"Thank you inspector," nodded Trevor.

Returning to the teller line, Emilee patiently waited for Fredricka and her companion to emerge from the vault. After ten minutes, the private security guards seemed restless, growing impatient with their boss's prolonged absence.

"Fuck this!" exclaimed one of the men loudly, making his way towards the vault door and opening it to check on his boss.

"Brian wait! The Boss will get angry if he is interrupted," called another man, but his warning fell on deaf ears.

As Emilee reached the front of the line, all the private security guards grabbed their earpieces and rushed towards the vault door, piling inside.

"Next," called a teller, trying to get Emilee's attention.

Ignoring the teller, Emilee left the line and walked towards the door. She could hear commotion coming from behind it. Suddenly, all the security rushed from their posts toward the door, as if they had received a message about a bank robbery. As the security rushed in, through the door, Emilee saw a pool of blood. She instantly rushed to the door and pushed into the room, flashing her badge to everyone present. Inside, the emergency exit was wide open, and the first security guard who had checked on his boss lay dead on the floor. His health bar was gone, signalling he was beyond resuscitation.

"What happened?" Emilee demanded, her voice brimming with urgency as she assessed the dire situation.

"The fucking wench killed Brian and our boss" replied one of the private security guards, seeming more upset about Brian's death than his boss's.

"Fredricka!" Emilee exclaimed, burdened by the weight of her own inaction, which had now resulted in the loss of two lives.