How ironic was I to the waters that lay before me.

In contrast to which the calm sea that reflected every shade of blue coloured in the sky, my heart was weighing down with the guilt of being reckless as my face tinted red. Unlike the waves that danced with the warmth of sunshine, my blood raged violently in the summer heat. More petulant was the steam that blew from my ears and nose in comparison to the swift breeze that engulfed every inch of the beach.

To put the cherry on top, I knew exactly what would happen once I explained the whole situation to Meyers.

"Please don't tell the Captain," I pleaded, cringing at the effort I had to put in. There was a moment of silence on the other side of the line as I heard bitter whispers argumenting.

"I can't do that Reeves," he said, "It's my duty to tell the Captain. What if the killer stole it himself? Or his accomplice did? I myself could get into trouble and you know that," he spat out.

"I promise I will make up for my mistakes but just this once please, please do not tell him. I will search for them myself if you want me to, just do me this favour once-"

"I can't, Geisha-"

"I'll let you take half of my research," I tempted. This was the only way I could save my dumb ass. Somewhere in my mind I waited for him to decline the offer or just ask to reduce my amount.

"Alright," he sighed as I cursed my ill fate. "I'll let you keep the first half. Give all your recent ones and I won't let the Captain know," he demanded. "But if things get out of hand I might have to tell him. Unless you're offering three-quarters," he arrogated. "Fine," I hissed, ending the call.

Great. Just great. What was I gonna do with him?

I resisted angering myself. It was my mistake that the file was gone, I had no choice but to go and inquire information directly from her. I mentally face palmed and scolded my foolish self. Without wasting any more time, I hastened to where Diana lived in an average looking building with a pleasant architecture. Riding the elevator to the eleventh floor, I knocked on her fawn-colored lumber door, inwardly praying she'd be back from the university. The door clicked and opened to reveal a familiar girl dressed in a ripped, orange shirt and gray sweatpants with her hair dripping wet down to her torso. "Diana?" I asked to which she nodded inquisitively.

"May I ask you a few questions? I'm Detective Reeves," I said, flashing my badge at her. She invited me into her pastel pink and blue embelished home. There wasn't much to look at other than her painted walls upon which vibrant colors clashed in a perpetual pattern of a little girl's biography. Her art was telling a story of desperation and heartbreak.

On one corner there were cans of paint covered in plastic sheets resting after recent use, her furniture crammed closer towards the centre of every room so as not to get paint on them.

"You've got artistic talent," I remarked, impressed. "Thanks," she said, blankly. "So... how have you been coping recently?" I attempted to clear the awkward tension in the room. It seemed to have risen inadvertently. "Painting," she said, locking the door and wandering off to her beige, meagre kitchen. "Tea or coffee?" She looked up from behind the cheap, marble counter as she poured water into a kettle. "Just water," I smiled as cordially as I could. "You can ask me what you want to," she urged as she poured a glass for me.

"How did you meet Jack?" I asked.

"It was a co-incedence," she said, brewing herself some coffee. I took a seat on an available chair as she whipped her hair over her shoulder and sashayed over to me. "I was at a college party and that's where I met him, he..." she drifted, fumbling with the hem of her shirt as she uttered incoherent words.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled herself on the kitchen counter, "You probably dug on me, so... He was snorting drugs and I was smoking weed... I think that's what got us closer. The whole drug thing," she waved her hands in the air, "But that's over. We stopped doing that last year. Before that, he was dating Lisa at the time, and I was focusing on my graphic portfolio. The next day after he dumped her," she continued "He was drinking in an italian bar downtown, I don't remember the name but he drunk dialled me."

"Then?" I encouraged. "When I drove to pick him up he was spouting some nonsense about betrayal and being used for. In my efforts to comfort him from his continuous weeping... it was painful to watch him," she stared into the distance. "We came to my place and..." she motioned with her hands, indicating her discomfort in elaborating her foreplay.

"Charles said he had no idea you were in a relationship with Jack," I quized. She tensed at the mention of his name, he shoulders taut and her gaze drooping low. "We kept it a secret from everybody-" she coughed, her hand instantly reaching to her mouth, eyes shying away in humiliation.

"Excuse me," murmuring, she curled her hands into fists as she dodged my curious stare, but I managed to catch a glimpse of crimson present on her lips. I closed my eyes and grimaced. I understood that they consumed drugs to make themselves emotionally stable, however it was upsetting they didn't find alternatives. Taking them was like beguiling death to obliterate your existance.

I sighed, snapping myself back to reality. I had to think quick.

Seizing the opportunity, I foraged through her apartment, looking for anything useful. Upon reaching the bedroom, I found her laptop open. I heard her coughing in the detached washroom on the opposite side as I went through her desktop folders. There were collections of handrawn and digital art and college pictures with her friends. I took pictures of them from my phone as I heard running water and frequently loud gargles. Closing her tabs, I clicked on her browser and tapped on her search history, surprised to find it completely empty.

It was awfully suspicious and baffling to find it totally wiped out. Surely a use of internet was essential for a college student.

"What are you doing?" A resentful voice boomed.

I  reeled around to meet an enraged Diana, nose flaring and eyes boring holes into me. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry, but I needed to search for-"

"Stop," she held her hand up, breathing noisily. "Follow me," she snarled, snapping her hand to direct me to her living room. She rummaged through a bunch of drawers in her kitchen as I helped her with the coffee after the kettle whistled. "What type of drug did you just take?" I asked. "I stopped taking drugs after being diagnosed with liver damage."

She derived an old, black laptop and typed her login password. "Do you have any idea why he didn't want anyone knowing?" I interrogated.

"It wasn't just anybody, but like... he was kind of super cautious around his father. At first even I didn't know Charles adopted him, he looked too young to be a college graduate's dad," she continued as I added more notes to my collection. "Why do you think so?" I looked up at her as she went deep into her file maze.

"I think I know why... it was most probably that Charles slept with his girlfriends," she said, turning to me. My eyes widened in shock. "Can you give validity for your statement?" I cleared my throat.

"Well, I'm not sure but a lot of girls were interested in him... he was young, handsome and charming. Besides, when Jack talked about being betrayed, it never made sense. I knew some of these girls and I assure you they were never of the sort to betray anyone. Which is why my guess is that they were either swayed or bribed, or they genuinely used Jack to get closer to Charles. It seems weird, I know," she morphed her pretty face, "I don't really know, nor can I give evidence for it but that's my suspicion."

She showed me her computer and I assessed all the information she had been given about the cases. "May I ask about your parents?" I bent to browse through her documents. It was a good thing I had written down names of the girls who's pictures were found in James's house.

Peculiar enough, what did he have anything to do with them?

Rose switched her position to rest her back on the kitchen counter as I sat down with her. I pulled out my phone and recorded her voice incase Meyers didn't believe my authenticity.

"I don't know where I was from, but the orphanage that took me in was very much foreign," she recalled, staring into space. "One of the caretakers was nasty. She had a horrible face and one leg missing. To top it all of she even had a foul behavior- except towards me, though. She used to go on and on about my dad. Said she never liked my mum.

"I caught her crying in the storage room one day and asked her about it. She simply hugged me. I was taken aback because, if you saw her, you'd agree that her nature was super violent. Anyways, this is all I remember. 'Your father was an amazing boss' she said. 'He was the only one who took care of me.' I didn't understand what she meant by that so I decided to sneak into her room and look for clues.

"When I did, I came across a picture she  kept under her pillow. I stole it. He looked very dangerous, but he had a very soft face. Two years later, a team of police officers came into the orphanage and arrested the woman. Her last wish was to tell me something. She said that my father was still alive, and that it would be best if I come here and find him. 'When you do, make sure to give him my name.' She had said. Unfortunately I forgot her name and I lost the picture so I gave up on the search," she ended her monologue.

"What about your mother?" I asked, intrigued. "I think she died. Yeah she died a year after I was born. I was only told her stories, saying she was shot or something. Anyhow, I don't miss my parents. How can you miss someone you never knew?" She smiled, rhetorically speaking.

I thanked her for her time and was ready set off. The look on her face was heartbreaking in the end. It was like she had a theory in mind which she wanted to tell me. When I inquired her further she said tomorrow would be the better.

Her smile was stuck in my head. Sad but reassuring. Almost like she was accepting something. My gut told me she was definitely hiding more than she was letting on. Without realizing it was already evening and that I had to go back home to check on Merida, I left the future to tomorrow.

Somehow I had a foreboding feeling that tomorrow was either going to be bad, or exciting.