<div style="text-align: justify;">The person on the other side of the line let out her breath when the man confirmed he was Mr. Stockton. She had looked around for the right name, and had settled on his. Sure, she could have chosen better detectives - man whose offices were in more decent parts of the city. Those might be on her protector’s payroll, or someone he knew might be paying them. A detective in a poor neighborhood should be more reliable. <br/><br/>Deciding that she needed someone to rely on, the young woman mentioned a murder, simply. There was much more, but she could not provide a lot of detail over the phone, not where she could be heard. “Very well, I should be by near the end of the day”, she promised, since there was no way she would sit there talking and talking. “Thank you for the attention, sir”, she still added before hanging up.<br/><br/>While Joseph leaned back on his chair, Anna dropped on her bed, shaking like a leaf. She had talked to someone. She had told someone what had happened in the house. Someone had been killed. She knew she wasn’t a saint. She had a lot to hide, and would have to cover her own tracks. But she had to share what had happened in the house. Before she became the one to face the business end of a gun.<br/><br/>Feeling sick to her stomach with the idea, Anna stood up and went downstairs to fix herself a drink. She nearly dropped the glass when she heard Bill’s voice. “Fix me one too, babe”, he requested. Anna turned her face to him and nodded. “Are you all right, babe?”, the man asked, coming closer to her. “You’re white as chalk”, he added, touching her face. <br/><br/>The woman took a deep breath. “Not feeling my best today”, she finally muttered. “I will be as good as new after a good drink”, Anna completed, her hands moving almost automatically to prepare both drinks. Handing Bill his, she finished fixing her own and took a long sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol calm her nerves. She needed to keep her cool and talk to the detective. “I’m thinking of going out on the town for some shopping, if you don’t mind, honey”, the woman stated, in control of herself again. “Do you need a car?”. Anna shook her head. “No, honey, I will take a cab. I don’t want people to look at me funny”, she replied, planting a kiss on the man’s lips. “I will bring you a treat on my way back”, she promised, before gulping down the rest of her drink. <br/><br/>The next few hours were spent in her room. Anna tried to read, but her mind couldn’t focus. She tried to write in her journal, but her words were a jumbled mess. She tried to rest, but as soon as her eyes closed, she heard the gunshots all over again. It seemed like time wasn’t passing, but it finally did, and she got dressed to leave the house. She tried to sound as normal as possible when she said goodbye and allowed Bill’s chauffeur to drive her to a point where she could get a cab. He had insisted, and she felt that refusing could have made the man suspicious.<br/><br/>It had taken Anna a while to find the exact location of the office, but once she did, she walked up to the door, knocked, and waited nervously for someone to open. Whoever opened the door would see a blonde, well dressed in a black figure-fitting dress, her hair in waves around a delicate face, marked by deep blue eyes. The woman was clearly nervous, biting on her lower lip and wringing her hands. “Good afternoon”, she greeted, her voice quiet and polite. “I am looking for Mr. Stockton”.</div>