Oh, and her memory.
Each one of these ‘cops’, and she used the term loosely, were now memorized, and at some time, they’d cross paths.
Bet.
On.
It.
Then, she’d have the final laugh.
Patience was a virtue, and she was the most virtuous bitch around.
Alongside her for this ride of fun was Remington Bowman, and he, too, was not amused by any of this.
Only, for different reasons.
Anonymity was key to his survival, and this was anything but keeping his face hidden.
To add insult to injury, they were escorted into the police station, despite her telling them who she was, when she knew they were well aware.
Honestly, this screamed Thomas Bernard getting a little revenge.
As they brought her into a room, Remmington with her, they sat them down.
And interrogated them.
Only, the whole time, she said only one thing.
“Please contact my boss, Axelle Maverick, the Director of the FBI.”
And they didn’t.
They asked her why she was there.
They asked her why she was with three mutilated bodies.
They busted her balls, threatening to release information to the media.
Oh, heads were going to roll.
BET.
ON.
IT.
First and foremost, she and Remington weren’t covered in blood, and they should have realized that they couldn’t possibly be the killers.
That they didn’t told her this was a stunt to bust her balls. There was no way they thought she had killed three people, and was absolutely spotless.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
When they asked her again why she did it, she stared at the detective sitting there.
