[ 29 ] 1969

-

"He's your son, not mine, so its not my problem. His stupid crying woke Cole, your other son in case you forgot. Now you have to get both of them to stop." 

-

"Officer Vega," The person spoke over the wiry static of the radio in his police car. "we have a ten thirty three on Firestone Avenue. Whats your twenty?" There was an emergency situation on Firestone Avenue, and the station wanted to know his location in order to determine if they wanted to send him to the scene.

"Firestone." He replied, specifying after a moment, "Irwin residence."

He hadn't wanted anyone to know where he was, but this was an emergency. The police department was no longer conducting its investigation on the murders, but Bobby couldn't let it go. Ashton had been his friend and he needed to know the truth about what happened to the family that night. He had been having his suspicions for a while now, but he still needed evidence. Of the many things he had learned at the marine academy, he knew that an investigation and an accusations were nothing without evidence. It wasn't enough to suspect someone of having committed the crime, that was amateur work.

"The call came from across the street." Bobby was informed. He looked in the rear view mirror to see the house he house where there was a supposed emergency.

It was Conrad Hood's house.

-

Bobby Vega stepped out of his police vehicle and observed the house across the street for a brief instant before proceeding. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary from the outside. Then again, like the other houses in that neighborhood, the land it was built on was vast. Anything could have happened.

He checked his holster for his gun. It was safely tucked away in the leather pouch of his holster from the police department. Bobby carried around two guns whenever he was on the job. Many of the other cops at the stations didn't understand why he did it. They called it paranoia and often told him that carrying around one gun was enough. But the one clipped to the left of his belt wasn't like the other ones. That was a special gun that had been given to him by his father and it was a gun for a different purpose than a regular gun. Bobby was almost relieved when he also remembered that he had worn a bullet proof vest before leaving the station that afternoon.

It would be of some help to him, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

He rushed across the street stealthily, keeping himself hidden in the afternoon shadows. He would have to go in alone until back up arrived. The station was around ten minutes from the rich neighborhoods in town, but it would take them at least five minutes to dispatch a few more vehicles. For the time being, he would have to handle the situation all on his own. He reached the front gates and saw that they were locked, but there was no one at the security booth. They were more likely tending to whatever was happening inside the house.

Bobby looked for another way to get in and found a service entrance near the back. As he knew from working at Claire's house, the service entrance was always open because there were always people coming and going from it. He snuck into the property that way, he had been called over there anyway, which would give him the excuse. Otherwise he'd have been trespassing. He reached the mansion a short walk off and barged through the kitchen door, where there were several house workers in tears.

"Sydney Police Department, Officer Vega." He introduced himself, putting his gun away. "I was called because there was an emergency situation reported at this home. Back up and paramedics are on the way."

The oldest woman in the room walked up to him with tears in her eyes, "I called emergency services because Miss Ann-Sophie...is dead."

Bobby's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The confusion of knowing her dead quickly turned into a sadness for the sickly woman he had known for years now. "Ann-Sophie? I knew her. Can you lead me to the body?" He asked the woman to take her to the scene where the body was found. She took him up the stairs and to the end of a long hallway, opening the door to reveal a blonde haired woman in bed, as he had always known her. Her eyes closed and her face peaceful like she had gone in her sleep. Next to her was a crying little boy, about five years old, who was being torn away from her side by another woman he recognized as Claire Feeney.

"Come on, Richard." She told the child in a soothing--on the verge of annoyed--voice as she pried his little hands from Ann's cold one. "Your dad is on his way and he'll take you somewhere nice if you behave."

But the little boy continued crying. His mother had just died.

Bobby took in the entire scene and asked, "What happened here?"

Nothing looked out of order in the room. Ann-Sophie had died, but it appeared to have been of natural causes. Beside her was a tray with food. The food itself was scattered on the sheets when she dropped them after she had passed away. Claire's eyes were glossy with tears and her face was red and blotchy from her crying. From what Bobby was gathering of his observations, Claire had only visited and Ann-Sophie died in front of her. 

The maid that had taken Bobby to the room successfully convinced the child to go with her and they left the room, leaving Claire and Bobby with Ann's dead body. "Oh, Bobby." Claire cried, running to his side and throwing her arms around him dramatically. She cried into his police uniform shirt as she continued with her account of what had happened, "We were having a nice conversation together when she suddenly started having difficulty breathing. I don't know what happened to her and I didn't know what to do. Then her son came in when he heard me crying and he refused to leave her side. The service called for help, but it was too late."

Though reluctantly at first, Bobby wrapped his arms around her small frame and said to her, "I know this is going to be hard on you because she was your best friend. But I'm going to need you to give me every detail from the moment you arrived. We're going to run a few tests to rule out any foul play, but we'd still like to know everything that happened." Bobby sighed, resting his chin atop her head as she continued crying. Bobby felt for her. She had lost Ashton, and now Ann-Sophie, all in the span of a few years. It was a lot of grief for a person to go through in such a short amount of time. He also felt sorry for the little boy who had been in the room.

Knowing the way Con was, the boy had only one parent who had actually taken care of him and loved him. Now that person was gone.

Within a matter of minutes, back up and a team of paramedics finally arrived. They had a few attempts to bring her back, but it was no use. Ann-Sophie was gone. The medical team carefully placed her on a stretcher and wheeled her away to run some tests on the body as well as to prepare all the information about the case. Soon, the whole room was swarming with officers and detectives, snapping photos of everything and gathering evidence.

Bobby left the investigation to them while he walked Claire back to her house. Her parents still lived in the neighborhood, very close to Ashton and Con's houses. Through his friendship with Claire he had learned that she wasn't living with her parents anymore, and didn't remarry after Ashton's death. She was renting an apartment in the city, on her own, but she often returned to the neighborhood to see her parents or Ann. They were by the entrance of Con's house, on their way out the front gates when a black car stopped right in front of them.

From it emerged Conrad Hood.

He was clad in a suit and tie, coming home after working at his office for hours on end. The man with dark brown hair took a look at all the police cars surrounding the property and said in a worried tone, "Claire called my office and said something happened with Ann. Is she okay?" Bobby almost wanted to scoff at the fact that Con actually looked like he cared for his wife. But Bobby had seen how badly and uncaring Con Hood was in regards to his wife to believe that worry was real.

"The paramedics did all they could, but it was too late." Bobby explained. If he felt sorry for anyone in that house, it was for Ann and the little boy who was their son. As for Con, he would investigate thoroughly to make sure he hadn't been involved in his wife's mysterious death.

Con shook his head in denial, his dark brown eyes filling with tears. "What about my son? Where's my son?" 

"Inside." Bobby replied. At least he cared about his son.

The dark haired business man hurried past them and disappeared into the house, leaving them both outside alone. 

"Be careful around Con, Claire." Bobby warned her. "I have a bad feeling about him."

Claire tensed at his words, trying to play it off with a small laugh that sounded more nervous than convincing. "Why do you say that?" If he was already onto Con, it probably wouldn't be long before he would suspect her too.

But Bobby said nothing. He walked her the remaining way to her parents' house, where she had dropped off her car. Then he returned to his police car which was parked across the street and drove away.

-

Later that night, Claire was in the bedroom of her apartment. Nearby was a crib with a sleeping one and a half year old child. She had just gotten him to sleep after trying everything in her knowledge to get him there. Claire sighed at the fatigues of motherhood. She had always heard how her motherly instinct would kick in and she would know just what to do. She thought she would be loving and nurturing, but in reality she wanted nothing more than to drop that baby off at an orphanage.

He cried, slept, and ate all the time. 

She couldn't drop Cole off with her parents because they didn't know that she had a son, no one knew except her and the baby's father. Claire often found herself leaving the baby with the maid that came by in the day time. She didn't want to be around him.

Not in that tiny apartment she was living in. She wanted to live in the mansion, she wanted to be the first wife, not the shameful lover that had to be hidden away somewhere. But that was all about to change. She would soon have the position she had always wanted, and both of them would be sitting on piles of money which had belonged to the Irwin family and the Fontaine family.

Claire had only done it for him. He had promised her that if she got Ann-Sophie out of the way, they could finally get married and live as a family. Con had been slowly slipping poison into Ann's meals for years, which had made her so weak that she had to remain bed ridden after the birth of their son. All Claire had to do was to slip a lethal dose into her meal to finish her off, and it would make her death seem like she had died of natural causes.

It was some time in the middle of the night when she heard the front door to the apartment open. Soon she heard the cries of a child that she had heard earlier that day. The child was so loud that he had woken up the baby in the crib, making Claire groan in frustration. She couldn't handle any more crying. She had enough earlier when she had to pretend she cared about Ann-Sophie and her passing away. The blonde grabbed her pillow from beneath her head and placed it over her face to cover her ears, but it was no use. 

The crying was closer as Con came down the hall with his son Richard in tow. He opened the door to the bedroom and called to Claire, "Help me get him settled into the other room. He hasn't stopped crying all fucking day." 

Removing the pillow from her face, Claire replied, "He's your son, not mine, so its not my problem. His stupid crying woke Cole, your other son in case you forgot. Now you have to get both of them to stop." 

The raven haired man threw his head back and groaned loudly. 

He stood out by the door way with his crying five year old son until he finally took a deep breath and knelt down at eye level with his son who looked more like his mother. "Caine, I know you miss your mother, but just think she's in a better place now. We'll be living here with aunt Claire for a couple of days until the police investigation ends and you can get to know your little brother Cole." He explained, trying his best to keep calm. Claire hated the way that Con was able to talk to his son like a real parent, like he actually loved him. He had always been so condescending with everyone else, including her, but never with his son Richard.

The little boy almost immediately stopped crying and wiped the tears from his eyes. Claire rolled her eyes at them and scoffed over the crying of the baby in the crib, "You're five years old, Richard. Get over it."

"And you're twenty six, Claire." Con retorted. "Grow the fuck up."

"Rude!" Claire yelled as Con walked down the hall to the other room in the apartment.

"Get the other one to stop crying!" He told her from the hallway.

Claire refused. "You do it!"

"I have to get Caine settled in his room." He shouted a reply.

Bringing the pillow to her face, she told herself, "Just a few more months of this crying children hell and I'll have the mansion and all that money to share with Con."

-

a flashback chapter for you all, even though its a flashback chapter. bobby is beginning to suspect con, but not claire. i know the flashbacks don't include ashton anymore, but they are important to the story plot, so i'll keep adding them. thank you so much for reading and supporting this series. it means a lot to me.

qotd: cats or dogs? i'm gonna have to say dogs because i have two dogs, and a cat killed my pet chicken. his name was luke-hemmings-the-chicken and he was killed by a cat. so now cats are my arch enemies. and it wasn't a merciful kill either. my pet chicken suffered, guys. the cat bit off a chunk of his thigh, under his wing so i didn't notice until after luke died. it was full of little worms and he was rotting away slowly. but he looked fine up until he died. stupid cat.

anyway, i hope you all enjoy the update. sorry i took so long to post this. i was a bit excited with my '3000' fanfic, and i kind of forgot about this one. but i'll try to keep up with both.

-clary xx