Chapter 97 Who Killed Clara?
DAVID
“This is all for you, Bella,” I murmured, my voice a low growl as I gripped the steering wheel tighter. My eyes scanned the dimly lit street ahead. “Whoever tries to hurt my woman will face me.”
The ice cream shop was almost deserted, save for a few stragglers finishing their cones. My car sat cloaked in the shadows of an alley, its engine purring softly as Janet shifted in the passenger seat. She crunched on the last biscuit from the pack I handed her, brushing crumbs off her jeans.
“We’ve been here for hours, David,” she said, her voice tinged with boredom. “You sure they’ll show?”
“They’ll show,” I replied, my tone sharp with conviction.
Janet leaned back, crossing her arms as she gave me a skeptical look. But before she could say more, the shop’s glass door jingled. A group of men, faces hard and voices gruff, strode inside. Their movements were deliberate, their eyes scanning the space like wolves on a hunt.
“Here we go,” I muttered, flicking off the car’s lights.
One of the men, burly and scarred, grabbed the shopkeeper by the collar and dragged him outside. His cries echoed in the still night air, drawing no attention just another night in this part of town.
“Poor guy,” Janet murmured, her gaze fixed on the scene. “No wonder he tried to kill your wife.”
I shot her a deadly glare. She shut up instantly, turning her attention back to the thugs.
The shopkeeper’s groans grew louder as they rained punches and kicks on him. Blood smeared the sidewalk, glinting under the flickering streetlamp. He finally gave in, fumbling with his pocket and pulling out a small tape recorder. The men snatched it, laughing as they pressed play.
Their laughter turned colder as the recording filled the air. One by one, they left, leaving the man crumpled on the ground, barely alive.
I stared at the pathetic heap he’d become. Every instinct screamed at me to intervene, but I couldn’t risk it—not now. Pulling out my phone, I dialed my assistant.
“I need you at the ice cream shop Bella and I used to visit,” I said. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
The minutes crawled by as I kept my eyes on the shopkeeper, watching the blood pool beneath him. Soon, headlights approached, and a familiar knock tapped against my window. I rolled it down.
“You see him?” I pointed to the man lying motionless on the pavement.
“Yes, sir,” my assistant replied, his expression grim.
“Take him to my mansion. Call the personal doctor. I want him alive.”
“Yes, sir.”
He moved swiftly, lifting the broken man into his car and driving away. Janet watched silently, her brow furrowed.
“What’s the plan now, brother?” she finally asked, her voice unusually soft.
I exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel. “We’re paying a visit to the family who claimed this man’s son killed their daughter. We need the truth.”
“And how do we find this mysterious family?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Already done. My guards tracked them down,” I said with a smirk.
Janet rolled her eyes. “Of course, you did. What’s the son’s name?”
“Paul Baskin. According to my investigation, he’s innocent, but the girl’s family insists he killed their daughter.”
“Let me handle this one,” Janet suggested.
“No,” I said firmly.
“David,” she argued, leaning closer. “I’m a black belt in karate. Remember? No one can touch me.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. She wasn’t wrong. “Fine. But you’re not going in alone. John will follow you. And here” I pulled a discreet earpiece from the glove compartment “I’ll be listening to everything.”
She grinned, slipping the device into her hair.
Minutes later, we arrived at the family’s home. John stood waiting outside, his casual attire a stark contrast to his usual uniform. Janet stepped out, giving him an exaggerated once-over.
“Your head of security cleans up well,” she teased, laughing as she walked toward the house.
From the car, I listened intently through the earpiece.
“He killed our daughter,” a man’s voice barked. “We found her dead in his apartment that morning.”
“Why were you at his apartment so early?” Janet countered smoothly.
The man faltered. “We…we were just passing by.”
“And you just walked in?” Janet pressed. “Had a key, did you?”
“No. The door was unlocked,” he muttered.
“You mean to tell me you found your daughter dead, conveniently next to the man you want to frame?”
“Get out of my house!” a woman shouted, her voice trembling with anger.
“Oh, I will,” Janet shot back, her voice cold as ice. “But not before I show the judge this.”
The sound of a tape recorder filled the airwaves, and my chest tightened.
“We’re sorry,” the man sobbed. “We were forced to lie!”
“By who?” Janet demanded.
“Desmond Stefan!”
“Why should I spare you?” Janet hissed. “You framed an innocent man!”
The front door slammed as Janet walked out, her stride confident and unhurried. She climbed into the car, a smug smile on her face.
“I didn’t know you had it in you,” I said, unable to hide my admiration.
“You’re not the only smart one in the family,” she replied with a wink.
“What’s next?”
“We find the man who really killed that girl,” I said, starting the engine.