Chapter 38 Art gallery
Maverick sat in his office, sleeves rolled up, his eyes burned into the stack of logbooks and entry sheets spread across his desk.
He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, each sound sharp and impatient.
Every name, every timestamp, he read them again and again, searching for the one thing that didn’t fit.
A sudden knock broke the silence no, not even a knock. John pushed the door open and rushed in, breathing hard.
“Sir….” he panted, straightening his uniform and adjusting his glasses. “The… the Military Criminal Investigation Department has taken over the case. They’re already at the crime scene.”
Maverick froze. Then hissed through his teeth,
“Shit! Who told them?”
“No idea, sir. But they came in fully authorized.”
Maverick stood abruptly, the chair screeched back. He grabbed his coat and stormed out, his boots hammered against the floor.
The corridor leading to the detention room was already lined with investigators in black MCID uniforms.
(Military criminal investigation department.)
Cameras flashed. Radios crackled. The air was tense, formal, heavy, suffocating.
He had hoped to comb through the evidence quietly before the bureaucracy stepped in.
Now it was too late. Whoever was pulling the strings had moved faster. Someone wanted this case buried and they were making sure he never found the truth.
He reached the cell. The yellow tape stretched across the doorway like a warning.
Inside, Peter’s body had been taken down; medics were sliding him onto a stretcher, zipping the black body bag shut.
Maverick’s jaw flexed. His eyes followed the movement until a familiar voice sliced through the noise.
“Captain Richard.”
Maverick turned. Standing behind him was Captain Collins, tall, clean, sharp-featured, and wearing that same polite smile that never reached his eyes.
“Captain Collins,” Maverick acknowledged coolly.
Collins’ tone was almost cheerful.
“We’ll be handling this from here on. All reports, recordings, and personnel under your command are to be made available immediately.”
Maverick’s reply was flat.
“You’ll have them. Every file, every recording.”
He turned to leave, but Collins’ voice followed him.
“You should also remain within the base, Captain. You might be called in for questioning as the commanding officer overseeing the case”
Maverick stopped mid-stride. The air around him seemed to chill.
Then he said evenly,
“Noted.”
Collins’ lips curved in that faint, taunting smile.
“And congratulations on your wedding, by the way. Shame the honeymoon got cut short.”
Maverick didn’t look back. He simply walked away, each step precise, controlled but his eyes were darker than before.
Behind him, John exhaled slowly, his nerves on edge. Everyone knew Maverick and Collins had history.
And now, Collins was in charge of his case
It took only a few soft words from Eva and a quick mention to Eleanor for permission to be granted. Heaven didn’t know how she did it, maybe it was Eva’s effortless charm, or maybe Eleanor obviously preferred her new daughter in law to her and wanted to show off influence.
By afternoon, Heaven found herself seated in the backseat of Eva’s sleek car as it pulled away from the Richard Estate.
It was the first time in months she had left those walls for anything other than temple visits. The city streets blurred past the tinted windows, and for the first time in a long while, she felt her lungs expand freely.
Eva chatted brightly beside her, her voice soft yet confident.
“I’ve been working on this exhibition for a while,” she said. “It’s called The Faces of Memory. Each painting represents a different stage of grief loss, denial, healing… all of it.”
Heaven nodded faintly. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It’s personal,” Eva added quietly, glancing out the window. “I started painting after my brother died. It… helped.”
A gentle silence settled between them. Heaven looked down at her hands, unsure what to say. She understood grief far too well to disturb the weight of someone else’s.
When they arrived at the art gallery, the scent of fresh paint and polish hung in the air.
Workers moved about setting up spotlights, hanging framed canvases, and adjusting floral stands. The space gleamed elegant, expensive so pristine that Heaven almost felt out of place breathing in it.
“Come on,” Eva said with a bright smile, tugging her gently along.
“You’ll help me decide on the order. You have good eyes, I can tell.”
Heaven blinked, startled. “Me? I don’t know anything about art.”
“You don’t have to,” Eva said warmly. “Just tell me what you feel when you look at it.”
They stopped before painting a woman standing in the rain, her face turned away, colors bleeding like tears down the canvas.
“It’s… lonely,” Heaven whispered. The image tugged at something deep inside her. “Like she’s waiting for someone who’ll never come.”
Eva’s eyes softened. “Exactly,” she murmured. “That’s what I wanted people to feel.”
They moved to another piece, the largest in the room. It stood at the center of the gallery wall, illuminated by soft golden light.
Unlike the others, it didn’t carry the same weight of sadness. Its colors were vivid warm strokes of red and gold blending into each other like fire meeting dawn.
Eva’s smile brightened instantly. “This one’s my favorite,” she said softly.
Heaven’s breath caught. It was beautiful radiant, alive.
“What do you think of this one?” Eva asked, turning to her. There was something personal in her gaze, something deeper than simple pride.
“Love,” Heaven whispered.
Eva’s lips curved into a delighted smile. “Exactly! You see it. You’re fit to be a collector, Heaven you read art like it speaks to you.”
Heaven blinked, caught off guard. No one had ever said that to her before. A small part of her wondered would she ever get to have a career, a dream, a life that was hers?
“This one was inspired by Maverick,” Eva said after a moment, her tone softening, eyes shining with affection. “My husband.”
Heaven froze. The word husband echoed in her chest like a cruel reminder. Her heart clenched painfully, the guilt pressing down until she could barely breathe.
Eva noticed her stillness. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently.
“Uhmm… I I just need to use the bathroom,” Heaven said quickly.
“Oh, of course. It’s that way,” Eva said, pointing toward the hallway.
Heaven turned to leave, her steps hurried, too hurried. One of the workers carrying a framed canvas brushed past her, and the corner of the painting struck her arm.
Her bag slipped from her shoulder and fell open, scattering its contents across the polished floor.
A black card slipped out of the bag and landed right at Eva’s feet.
The same card Maverick had given her, payment for her virginity.
Eva bent down and picked it up, the soft click of her heels drawing closer. Heaven’s heart slammed hard against her ribs, her throat tightening with panic.
“So sorry, Heaven… you should watch where you’re going,” Eva said gently, then turned to scold the worker who had bumped her.
“No, it’s my fault,” Heaven cut in quickly, her voice trembling. She didn’t want anyone scolded because of her mistake not when her own secret had just almost slipped into the open.
Eva handed her the card. “Here, you dropped this.”
Heaven took it with a strained smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, sliding it swiftly back into her bag before hurrying off toward the restroom.
Eva watched her go, a faint crease forming between her brows