sweet dreams are made of screens

[Laverna]

Chapter 8


Laverna wondered why her mother hadn’t returned as swiftly as usual. Devlin, ever the joker, teased that maybe Carmen had landed herself in prison. Laverna rolled her eyes, already knowing that Lee Galese, the family’s private lawyer, could get Carmen out faster than a cheetah running from the police—probably even faster than Clyde Barrow riding a cheetah across Texas.


She pulled a chicken pot pie out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave, then brewed a cup of Russian Earl Grey tea. The scent of bergamot curled through the kitchen, soothing her nerves as she went through the familiar motions. Devlin sat on the couch, absorbed in a Rubik’s cube, his fingers flicking over the dials with practiced ease. In front of him was a TV dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce and a can of Pepsi. It had become the typical dinner for him, especially when he was buried in his own world.


Laverna sighed quietly to herself. If Carmen were here, she’d probably lecture them about asking one of the employees to cook something “nutritious” or, better yet, about having a balanced meal delivered. But right now, the silence of the house was a strange comfort.


Her attention shifted to the news, her green eyes scanning the screen for any sign of Carmen’s arrest. She replayed the broadcast over and over in her head, waiting for any mention of her mother’s name or image.


Then, the sound of the front door jingled, breaking her concentration. It didn’t sound like the usual two footsteps entering—it sounded like four. Laverna froze for a moment, her mind racing through irrational conclusions. Maybe it was a hallucination, another strange symptom of the unknown condition she’d been dealing with for months.


Devlin, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration, didn’t even seem to notice, his attention still fixed on the Rubik’s cube.


The doubled footsteps continued, and Laverna slapped her forehead in frustration. She winced at the sharp pain, the sound of her hand striking her skin echoing in the quiet room. Devlin’s laughter cut through the tension, but it was short-lived, as Carmen’s sharp voice echoed through the house.


“Laverna, Devlin, my office. Now.”


Her tone was unmistakably authoritative, and though they were both used to her command, the force behind it still made them move without hesitation.


Exchanging a glance, the two sprang to their feet and raced toward Carmen’s office like a couple of kids caught doing something they shouldn’t. Devlin, ever the first to claim the best seat, slid into the leather spinning chair, spinning it once with a grin. Laverna let out a resigned sigh as she grabbed one of those plastic toys with the pegs you press your hand against to create odd designs.


She didn’t make a big deal of it, despite the fact that Devlin had beaten her to the chair. Sitting in it would guarantee a playful jab from Carmen about trying to overthrow her. It was one of those games they always played when she returned from a heist.


But when Carmen finally entered, she was dressed entirely in black, as though she had just come from a funeral.


Laverna froze, noting the lack of the usual crimson lipstick—now replaced with a muted peach—and the unfamiliar scent that lingered in the air. It wasn’t the usual jasmine and amber fragrance from a heist. This was something sweeter, almost burnt—brown sugar and vanilla. Laverna’s brows furrowed, suspicious. It felt like Carmen was deliberately masking something, as if she didn’t want to be recognized in her usual persona.


Carmen’s hair, always wild and tousled after a chase, was neatly pulled back with a simple gold clip. It was an understated look, not at all like the chaos Carmen usually reveled in. Her outfit was equally subdued—gray-and-black plaid slacks paired with a burgundy shirt under a black blazer. No chaotic coat thrown over her arm, no rogue hat from an escape. Just a controlled, somber appearance.


A subtle scent of candles and incense lingered in the air, adding to the odd, almost mournful mood. Laverna had never been to a funeral before, but something in her gut told her this was it. Everything about Carmen’s appearance screamed a shift, something she couldn’t quite place but instinctively felt.


Her mind raced—maybe she was just jumping to conclusions, as usual, but the combination of all the changes unsettled her. She pushed the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave. Carmen had definitely not come from a heist today. Relief washed over Laverna, but that only led to another unsettling question. Whose funeral had Carmen attended? That was the part that didn’t sit right. She had no frame of reference for something like this. But the thought of Carmen attending a funeral, of all things, made her stomach twist.


“So, who died?” Laverna asked bluntly, unable to stop herself. “Or is this your way of telling us you’re retiring?”


Her curiosity often ran ahead of her, and this was one of those moments.


Carmen waved her hand dismissively, but her gaze was sharp. Devlin stood up, stepping aside as Carmen slid into his chair, her presence commanding. “Laverna, I’m not in the mood for your games,” Carmen said, her voice flat. “Yes, someone died. A dear lover of mine from England, if you must know.”


The usual teasing in Carmen’s voice was gone, replaced by something colder and more serious. Laverna’s face flushed, realizing her timing had been awful. She bit her lip, but didn’t speak again. The moment for a joke had passed.





“Alright, first things first,” Carmen began, her tone as serious as ever. “We’ve got a new member of the family. I don’t want her to find out about… well, everything. We’ve been a criminal organization for a long time, and I need you both to stay focused. Laverna, you’ve got research to do. I need a paper on the psychology of gangsters and outlaws—pick any one you want. I want it in two weeks.”


Laverna nodded, already mentally sorting through her options. The thought of diving into criminal psychology excited her; it was exactly the kind of challenge she thrived on.


“Devlin, you’re up next. I need you to develop a serum that can knock someone out, no brain damage, and causes amnesia. Got it?”


Devlin gave a mock salute, rolling his eyes playfully but knowing full well how serious Carmen could be.


But just as Carmen finished, a small voice broke through the tension. “Mommy?”


The door opened, and in walked a little girl, her eyes wide and innocent, breaking the adult atmosphere like a tidal wave. Carmen’s expression softened instantly as she bent down to greet her.


“Okay, Ophelia, this is your sister Laverna, the one you’ve been so eager to meet, and this is her fiancé, Devlin. Laverna, Devlin, this is Ophelia Fairchild. Her father just passed away, and we were attending his funeral,” Carmen explained, her voice softening as she scooped the little girl up into her arms.


Laverna felt her heart race, her mind spinning as she processed the words. A sister? She had a sister? The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d never known, never even considered it.


Ophelia’s eyes were wide, and Laverna took a hesitant step forward. She barely noticed Devlin’s quiet presence as he stood beside her, his demeanor so typically self-assured and confident, as if the idea of a new family member was just another minor development in his perfectly controlled life.


Devlin, noticing Laverna’s shock, leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “Well, well, look at that. I guess you’ve got more family than you thought,” he said with a playful smirk, leaning back against the wall with that signature arrogance of his. He always had to put his own spin on things, even in moments like this.


Laverna shot him a look. “Not the time, Devlin,” she muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. Despite everything, his presence was oddly reassuring.


Ophelia, still clinging to Carmen, turned toward Devlin, her small hand reaching out toward him. “You’re my sister’s friend?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.


Devlin straightened, wiping the playful smirk off his face as he crouched down to her level, his tone shifting to something much gentler. “I’m Devlin. But I’m not just your sister’s friend, Ophelia,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of teasing and sincerity. “I’m also going to be your brother-in-law.” He flashed a crooked grin that was just cocky enough to be charming.


Laverna rolled her eyes at his dramatic flair but couldn’t help a small smile. She was still processing everything, but the presence of Devlin’s cockiness somehow helped break through the tension. The way he acted, like nothing could rattle him—he was nothing like the little boy she remembered. There was something intoxicating about that, something that made her heart flutter even in the strangest moments.


Devlin, sensing the shift in the mood, stood and straightened his jacket with exaggerated flair, as if he were preparing for a royal entrance. “Well, I’m glad to make your acquaintance, little one,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too confident. “Now, don’t worry, I’m sure Laverna and I will take good care of you. We’re family now.”


Laverna shot him a pointed look, but this time, it wasn’t just annoyance. It was something else—something deeper, more complicated. She’d never expected any of this. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but Devlin’s relaxed arrogance seemed to make it all a little easier to bear.


Ophelia, still unsure of what was happening, looked between them, her small frown deepening. “Sister… and… brother-in-law?” Her words were tentative, but there was a spark of curiosity in her gaze.


Laverna’s heart softened at the sight of her sister’s confusion. She stepped closer to Ophelia, kneeling down to her level. “Yes, Ophelia,” Laverna said gently, her voice warmer than it had been moments ago. “We’re family now. And we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of.”


Devlin, sensing the moment was turning more serious, let out a soft sigh and placed a hand on Laverna’s shoulder, his usual cocky grin replaced by a rare, more genuine expression. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice quieter now, as if the gravity of the situation finally hit him. “We’re in this together.”


Laverna looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a mixture of uncertainty and something else she couldn’t quite place. He was right. Whether or not they were ready, they were in this together. And for the first time since Ophelia appeared, Laverna realized that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work—no matter how complicated the situation was.


Devlin turned his attention back to Ophelia, his confident mask sliding back into place, but there was something softer in his eyes. “So, what do you think, Ophelia? You ready for a new adventure?”


Ophelia’s eyes sparkled with a bit of excitement, her small nod giving Laverna a sense of hope she hadn’t expected. “Yeah,” Ophelia said, her voice still soft but filled with curiosity. “I think I’m ready.”


Laverna stood, her mind still racing but feeling a little more at ease with her sister’s simple, hopeful smile. She glanced over at Devlin, who was grinning like he’d just won a battle, and couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet warmth in her chest. Maybe this would work out after all.


Carmen, holding Ophelia close, gave a small, knowing smile. “We’re family now. It’s time to start fresh.”


Laverna nodded, feeling something shift inside her. And no matter how chaotic and unexpected things were, she realized that with family—however untraditional it was—they could face whatever came next.

 

[Laverna]

Chapter 8:


Laverna awoke around 2 am to a sickening sensation in her stomach. She assumed it was jealousy twisted into nerves, making her feel nauseous. After all, she had just been gifted a British princess as a baby sister that afternoon—like it was some perfectly normal situation for any young adult to discover that their mother apparently had more lovers than they ever realized. She stared at the clock on her cherry wood desk, watching the delicate golden hands ticking away as time slowly passed by.


The muffled sound of Disney lullabies drifted from the bedroom to the left, filtering through the paper-thin walls. The branches of the trees tapped against the wooden roof with a soft, rhythmic pittering sound. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the ache in her joints signaled that a storm was brewing to the east. The wind was picking up behind the wooden building where she lay on her soft yet firm mattress.


She carefully slipped out of her quilted bedding, the soles of her feet brushing against the cream-colored shag carpet where her bed frame rested.


The mattress squeaked with an audible gasp as her body’s weight was lifted from its cotton frame.


.She stumbled around as her eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings of her cozy and spacious upstairs bedroom. There was an absence of the usual silvery moonlight that normally illuminated the room; the dark, brooding storm clouds had effectively imprisoned the light.


Eventually, her fingers found the switch on the lamp that stood tall on her cluttered nightstand. However, as she adjusted her grip, a pill bottle tumbled to the carpet, spilling mint-green pills into the jungle of shag carpeting.


The warm, yellowish light flickered on with a prominent hiss, yet only Laverna and a few others could hear the little voices of things we often overlook.


A pained groan escaped her perched throat as she acknowledged the tumbled bottle of Lyratic, a neurological stabilizer that her mother hasn’t been informed of her daughter taking for the past three weeks. The tiny millimeter long pills were entangled in the whirling of cotton and polyester in the rug.


She easily picked each bluish pill from its tangible mess, as if she were a mole building a tunneling system in the garden. One, two, three. Six. Twelve and Twenty.


She tightened the lid properly on the bottle, cursing herself for not doing it correctly the morning before when she took her daily dose.


“Devlin and his friend Nero discovered that my brain is abnormally developed this month. Well, mother thought we were probably slacking off during her month’s absence, so we tried to solve my health mystery for her,” Laverna whispered to herself as she placed the bottle in her nightstand drawer next to a package of strawberry-flavored chewing gum.


Devlin invented the medication—just your average romantic gentleman in the expansive yet intimidating basement, crafting pharmaceuticals to atone for his own transgressions and save the love of his life. His best friend, Dr. Nero, a neurologist nearly twice his age, helped him along the way.


Side effects. It was something Devlin had forgotten to disclose to Laverna. Or perhaps he simply overlooked it—his arrogance often led him to neglect informing others of critical details about the questionable treatments he concocted in his laboratory.


The sore throat and occasional cough from the cold she was suffering caused Laverna to grumble as she hugged her arms around her chest. Yes, the side effects were mild in relation to everything else in the world—mostly itching from a minor rash and dry mouth. But Laverna hadn’t the heart to explain the nightmares.


She turned on her bedroom heater, the wires glowing red. For a split second, Laverna felt as if her vision had turned entirely purple, but it quickly returned to normal. She swiftly sprang back into bed, hoping to sleep off the symptoms of her abnormal brain condition.


“After all, the sleep Carmen worried about was simply a form of heavenly relief, seen through a different lens of Laverna’s personal hell.”:


Devlin lay soundly asleep in his bedroom, which was to the right of Laverna’s. Nestled under a plush comforter, one bare foot dangled off the edge of the bed, as if daring the figurative monster beneath to strike. He was sprawled on his stomach, his deep, steady breaths filling the room as he rested peacefully.


He couldn’t hear the faint lullabies drifting melodiously from the newcomer’s room, which lay on the opposite side of Laverna’s. A mild rash had appeared on his skin, a result of falling asleep in a rush, too caught up in the excitement of Ophelia’s arrival to remember to shower. He thought of how he might win over the little one with his candy-making skills or perhaps craft a perfume perfectly suited to the delicate “little lamb” who had unknowingly been brought into a den of hungry lions.


.The storm didn’t disturb his sleeping position. In fact, he slept better than he had all month. Deep in the stages of REM sleep, he snuggled his lumpy pillow closer, his body fully at ease despite the chaos outside.


However, The storm illuminated her bedroom casting scary shadows across the bare bedroom that was devoid of personal belongings or depth yet. She laid in a fetal position with subconscious crying heaving in her sleep. Her stuffed teddy bear being choked to death in Ophelia’s grief-stricken slumber. A small radio Carmen placed was plugged into the wall played Disney lullabies that was contained in a burned cd with doodles of Mickey and Minnie on them. The words sleep mix written in youthful inexperienced writing

 

[Laverna]

Chapter 9:


Laverna grumbled as she had her baby sister doing a piggyback ride on her back. The girl was surprisingly strong as she basically ordered the infamous sister around like a horse in the Mall of America. Devlin smirked playfully at the sight of Laverna being used as a pack mule.


They were here shopping for clothes for Ophelia, and Laverna wondered why she was doing henchmen duties by carrying a Sandiego on her back. Carmen was leading the pack like a homeschooling mother marching them into the massive mall and out of the parking lot.


No henchmen, no tech, no heists, no goons, and no pesky detectives. According to Laverna, this would be a disaster if any of the three infamous individuals dared to be recognized in such a tourist destination.


“Mother, a road trip to Minnesota? Don’t we have clothing stores in New Vile Haven?” Laverna asked, standing next to her mom, who just laughed.





“New Vile Haven? What’s that?” Ophelia asked, her British accent making a few passing individuals stop and stare at the British angel.


Carmen quickly glanced around, sensing the attention Ophelia was attracting. “It’s where we live now, sweetheart,” she replied with a casual smile, steering Ophelia away from the curious stares. “A quiet place… away from the chaos.”


Laverna, overhearing, snorted. “Quiet, she says,” she muttered under her breath, but Carmen shot her a sharp look, reminding her to keep the peace—at least for now.


Ophelia blinked up at her mother, still a bit confused. “It’s… not like Britain, then?”


“Not at all,” Laverna said with a smirk, her tone dry. “Just a little more… lively.”


Devlin had disappeared, though no one was particularly surprised. After all, he wasn’t exactly dragged along on the trip like Laverna, figuratively speaking. He had his own money, his own ambitions, and his own reasons for tagging along to the mall.


Laverna caught a glimpse of him entering a jewelry store. Christmas had nearly been forgotten in all the hustle and bustle. Their house hadn’t been decorated, as if they had merely forgotten the holiday even existed. So, the Christmas decorations spiraling around the mall gave Laverna a headache. “I can’t believe I forgot Christmas,” she muttered.


Her thumb instinctively rubbed against her golden promise ring as she realized they would never have an engagement. Once Carmen was done messing around, a royal wedding would be planned, one grander than Queen Victoria’s, who wore the first white wedding dress that everyone still copies to this day.


Her prince had no need to buy any silver or gold jewelry, Laverna concluded. It was probably a gift for her mother, or perhaps for the British brat who was chewing gum while riding her like a bouncy horse.





After an hour, Laverna groaned, carrying all of Ophelia’s bags, while the girl clutched the Build-A-Bear cardboard tote, happily swinging it by her side. Laverna carried everything else. Devlin had returned to their side, his backpack stuffed full of actual purchased merchandise.


Carmen was laughing her head off at how kids somehow manage to turn everyone into their servants. The laughter echoed as they found themselves lounging in the American Girl Doll Café.


“Christmas came…” Laverna started, but Devlin quickly covered her mouth just in time to stop her from shouting a horrible slur in a room full of children and their plastic counterparts.


They placed their orders from the shiny waiters, and a newly acquired limited-edition Kristen Larson doll sat next to Ophelia, who was serving the doll pink lemonade in a teeny tiny teacup. Laverna asked to go to the restroom, but Carmen didn’t hear her, and Devlin was too busy wondering why American Girl sold boy dolls, which was an oxymoron—“American Girl” and “boy doll” just didn’t seem to fit together.


Laverna slipped away; her black leather boots never made a sound as she left the elusive doll store.


She didn't care about fancy sweet potato fries and darling heart-shaped cupcakes, Her red plaid pleated skirt billowing as she speedrun towards anything interesting


Christmas carolers were singing nearby, their cheerful voices echoing through the bustling mall. Laverna barely paid attention to them as she strolled past, her thoughts elsewhere. She had $115 in her pocket, handed to her by Carmen earlier with a cryptic smile and a casual wave of her hand. It was hers to spend on whatever she wanted—no strings attached. Or so Carmen claimed.


Laverna couldn’t help but wonder how “dirty” the cash was. After all, Carmen’s money always seemed to come with an unspoken story, one that likely involved bending or outright breaking the law. Was this considered money laundering? She didn’t know the finer points of financial crime, but she reluctantly assumed the answer was yes. At this point, it was safe to say she was partaking in money laundering. Let’s be honest: any cash that passed through Carmen’s hands had to be illegal in some form.


She’d been given the money while sitting in the passenger seat of a luxury SUV that Carmen had allegedly borrowed from Vic the Slick. Carmen had referred to him as “Victor Sleave” the entire time, as though it were his actual name, which made Laverna smirk despite herself.


The memory played in her head—swirling around in the plush leather chair like she didn’t have a care in the world, even as Carmen handed her the bills. She shoved the money into her black leather jacket pocket without a second thought, as if this was perfectly normal. It wasn’t, but normal wasn’t exactly a standard in her life.


Now, as she wandered through the mall, the faint smell of cinnamon and roasted nuts wafting through the air, she debated what to do with the money. She could buy something fun, something practical, or just hoard it for later. But no matter what she spent it on, that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. Carmen’s world had bled into her own, and Laverna couldn’t ignore the weight of her actions, even if they were as mundane as spending some cash in a mall.


Shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, she sighed. “Normal people don’t have to think about whether they’re laundering money at the mall,” she muttered to herself. But then again, when had her life ever been normal?





The warm, sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air as Laverna stepped into Bath & Body Works, but she wasn’t here for the overly sugary fragrances. She needed something more grounded, something that would help her relax after the whirlwind of the day.


She made a beeline for the Aromatherapy section, where the cool, refreshing notes of Spearmint Eucalyptus immediately caught her attention. The sheer variety of products was almost overwhelming—body wash, lotions, room sprays, even candles. It was like the scent had taken over an entire corner of the store. Laverna’s eyes sparkled with intrigue.


She grabbed the body wash first, then the body lotion, and after briefly eyeing the bath salts, she added those to her basket, too. But it didn’t stop there. She spotted a shower gel, a matching shampoo and conditioner set, and even a foaming hand soap.


Without really thinking, she tossed each item into her basket, adding a few more things as she went—candles, a body scrub, and a massage oil. If she was going to treat herself, she might as well go all in.


She took a breath, enjoying the fresh scent that seemed to wrap around her. It was a bit indulgent, but Laverna didn’t mind. The day had been chaotic, and this was her time to just breathe and unwind.


At the counter, the cashier—a friendly woman with a wide grin—scanned the items, commenting, “Spearmint Eucalyptus is one of our top sellers. Great choice!”


Laverna gave a tired smile in return, but her mind was already elsewhere—wondering how much longer she would have to stand in line before she could just escape for a while.


She handed over the cash from Carmen, the bills almost feeling too clean in her hands. The cashier bagged everything up, wishing her a good day.


Laverna nodded silently and walked out of the store, the scent of spearmint and eucalyptus in tow, ready to find some much-needed peace.


Laverna’s steps were light as she strolled away from Bath and Body Works, bag in hand, feeling the weight of her indulgence. She glanced down at her phone screen, her mind racing through the things she still wanted to buy. Maybe she’d pick up something for herself in Spencer’s. The flashing neon lights beckoned to her, and without a second thought, she pushed through the revolving door, the warm air inside offering a stark contrast to the chill outside.


Her leather jacket creaked as she moved deeper into the store, eyes scanning the shelves for something interesting, something she didn’t already have. But as she moved through the aisles, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Her fingers hovered over a display of novelty socks, and she glanced over her shoulder—nothing. But the feeling lingered.


It wasn’t until she reached the back of the store, near the less-than-legal items, that she saw him: the security guard, pretending to adjust his uniform but clearly keeping an eye on her. His sharp gaze tracked her every movement, and Laverna’s heart skipped a beat. She had a feeling this wasn’t just about her odd shopping choices.


There was a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing that someone was onto her. She didn’t know whether it was the thrill of being caught or the adrenaline rush of not getting caught that made her smile to herself. Maybe I’m not so good at blending in after all, she thought, but the idea of an extra chase had always been too tempting.


She reached into her jacket pocket, her hand brushing against the extra cash she had tucked away—cash that didn’t come from Carmen. A flicker of mischief crossed her mind. Maybe she had more to her name than just the $115 she had been given.


Then, before she could turn around, she heard the telltale click of a walkie-talkie crackling behind her. The guard wasn’t too far off, and it seemed like he was getting closer.


A mischievous grin spread across her face as she picked up a small trinket from the shelf, casually placing it in her jacket pocket. “Guess I’ll make this one interesting,” she muttered under her breath.


With a swift turn, she moved toward the back exit of Spencer’s, knowing the guard wasn’t far behind. The chase, she thought, was about to get a lot more exciting.



Laverna’s mischievous grin lingered as she slipped the trinket into her jacket pocket. The thrill of the chase pumped through her veins as she maneuvered through the aisles of Spencer’s. The Christmas lights above twinkled brightly, casting festive shadows across the store. She could hear the faint sound of holiday music playing over the speakers, but it didn’t do much to dampen the rush she felt.


She was about to turn toward the exit when she caught sight of the security guard again. His eyes were locked onto her, sharp and focused. He wasn’t pretending anymore—he was actively following her. And she could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical presence.


She made a quick decision. She wasn’t getting caught—not now, not after everything.


With a swift turn, she moved toward the door leading out of Spencer’s, her boots clicking against the floor as she picked up speed. The guard wasn’t far behind, his footsteps echoing in her ears. She pushed through the door, her heart racing with exhilaration. The cool air of the mall greeted her, but she didn’t stop to breathe it in.


Her leather jacket creaked as she sped up, weaving through the crowds of shoppers. Christmas decorations dotted every corner of the space, with garlands hanging above and trees twinkling with lights. The mall was bustling with holiday shoppers, but to Laverna, it was just an obstacle course. She darted left, then right, dodging between people and kiosks, always keeping one eye on the guard behind her. She could hear him shouting into his walkie-talkie, calling for backup, but she wasn’t going to let him catch her that easily.


She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of his determined face. He was relentless, and that only made the chase more exciting. She pushed herself harder, moving past the food court and down toward the quieter part of the mall where she knew the back exit was located.


The security guard was closing in, but there were too many people in the way. She knew the layout of the mall well; she just needed one more turn, one more dash to get out of his line of sight.


She made the turn toward the back of the mall, the holiday crowds thinning out. Her breath came faster now, but she could feel the exit just ahead. She was almost there—just a few more steps.


But as she reached the back hallway, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in behind her. She turned around, a rush of panic flooding her chest. The security guard was faster than she anticipated.


Her gaze darted around, searching for a way out. But it was too late. With a sharp yank, hands grabbed her from behind, spinning her around. She twisted and fought to break free, but it was no use. He was too strong.


“Gotcha,” the guard muttered under his breath as he dragged her toward the security office.


Laverna’s heart pounded in her chest as she struggled, but she could feel the pressure of his grip tightening. The Christmas lights above flickered, the holiday cheer of the season suddenly feeling like a mocking contrast to her growing sense of panic. She hadn’t expected to be caught—not like this.


“Let me go!” she snapped, trying to wriggle free, but the guard didn’t release her. The backup was already on its way, and Laverna realized just how deep she had gotten herself into this.


The sound of Christmas carols and the chatter of holiday shoppers faded as she was dragged toward the security office. The game had changed. And this time, she wasn’t the one in control.


She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. The security guard had caught Carmen Sandiego’s daughter—if only he knew. He’d be on cloud nine. Laverna smirked, knowing full well that her mother would probably just pay for her release. After all, Carmen had a reputation to uphold as a “gentle thief,” and she would do whatever it took to keep Ophelia from finding out about the criminal organization they all lived in. Laverna was sure Carmen would pay to keep this little incident under wraps, as always.





Carmen, Devlin, and Ophelia hurried through the crowded parking lot, the festive lights around them doing little to soothe Carmen’s growing irritation. It wasn’t like Laverna to vanish without a word—well, not without a good word.


Ophelia held tightly to Devlin’s hand, her stuffed bear clutched under her arm. “Why did Laverna leave lunch?” she asked softly.


“She didn’t ‘leave,’” Devlin muttered. “She bailed. There’s a difference.”


Carmen shot him a warning glance but said nothing. Her focus shifted to the scene ahead: two police officers escorting a young woman in handcuffs toward a waiting squad car. The sight made her heart sink.


“Is that…?” Devlin squinted.


“Yes,” Carmen said with a sigh, her eyes narrowing.


Laverna, clearly frustrated, was arguing with the officers. “I told you, my name is Charlet Saylor! You’ve got the wrong person!”


Carmen approached briskly, her heels clicking against the pavement. Devlin trailed behind, carrying Ophelia, who looked on with wide eyes.


“Excuse me,” Carmen said smoothly, stepping into the officers’ line of sight. “What’s going on here?”


One of the officers glanced at her. “Do you know this young woman?”


Carmen tilted her head, her expression calm but concerned. “Yes, I’m her mother. Charlotte Saylor. Is there a problem, Officer?”


Devlin blinked at her, caught off guard by the use of the alias, but he wisely kept quiet.


The officer gestured to Laverna, who was now glaring at Carmen. “She’s been caught pickpocketing and stealing over a thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise from the mall. We’re taking her in.”


Laverna scoffed. “Mom, tell them this is a misunderstanding! I was just—”


Carmen cut her off with a sharp look. “Quiet, Charlet.”


Laverna’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Charlet? Seriously?”


Carmen ignored her, turning back to the officers. “I see. Thank you for letting me know. I trust you’ll process everything appropriately?”


The officers exchanged a glance, slightly puzzled by her composed demeanor. “We’ll be taking her to the station,” one of them said.


“Understood,” Carmen replied. “I’ll ensure she faces the consequences of her actions.”


“Mom!” Laverna shouted as the officers guided her into the squad car. “You’re just going to let them take me?!”


Devlin shifted Ophelia in his arms, muttering under his breath, “Not surprising, honestly.”


“Why is Laverna being arrested?” Ophelia asked, her voice trembling.


Carmen placed a reassuring hand on her back. “It’s complicated, sweetheart. Let’s focus on getting you home.”


As the police car pulled away, Laverna’s muffled protests faded into the distance. Carmen stood silently for a moment, her expression unreadable.


“You’re oddly calm about this,” Devlin said, watching her closely.


Carmen smirked faintly. “A thousand dollars in one afternoon? I can’t say I’m not… impressed. But she has to learn.”


“You’re really going to leave her in jail?”


“She made her choices,” Carmen said, walking toward their car. “And now she’ll deal with the consequences.”


Devlin followed, shaking his head. “She’s going to hold this against you for years.”


“Good,” Carmen said with a sly smile. “Maybe it’ll keep her out of trouble next time.”

 

[Laverna]

Laverna had just realized Carmen was right—being arrested was humiliating. She’d been searched, stripped of all her clothing, and had her personal belongings thoroughly investigated by male officers. At 21, this was incredibly degrading. The situation had only worsened when they discovered she was Carmen Sandiego’s daughter. Now, everyone in the jail was laughing, mocking her for failing to escape the police, just like her infamous mother.


She sat in her cell, her hands dangling loosely outside the bars. The orange jumpsuit irritated her skin, causing it to break out into a rash. Her skin had always been sensitive, so this discomfort was just another layer of frustration. At least she had the solitary cell—no smelly cellmate to deal with. Eventually, two officers arrived, grabbing her roughly and dragging her out of her cell, taking her to the interrogation room.


A blonde woman in a military green jacket sat on the other side of the desk. This wasn’t a regular officer, and Laverna quickly realized it was an ACME detective. The woman was about her age, tapping her fingernails on the wooden desk with an air of impatience. She smelled distinctly of Russia, like she had just come from there—Laverna knew that scent all too well after spending a year in Russia herself. It wasn’t the typical “stereotypical Russia” smell people might imagine; it was something more specific.


Next to her stood a scruffy man with brown curly hair and red glasses, clearly working with her. Laverna recognized the jacket the blonde woman wore—she’d seen it before. It belonged to Zach. Carmen had kept a photo of him and Ivy in her office, and Laverna could easily identify it now.


Laverna was mesmerized by the holographic quality of the blonde woman’s hair. Purple, blue, green, and silver hues swirled and spiraled in the light from the single bulb in the interrogation room. For a moment, she couldn’t look away—it was the same as her own hair. Nobody else’s hair ever did that. Until now, she had thought it was something unique to her. But seeing it on this woman was like staring at a strange reflection, one she couldn’t explain.


“Evening, Miss Sandiego. I am Detective Anya White, and this is Detective Ruslan Child. You are being transferred into the custody of the ACME Detective Agency, as your mother is a high-profile criminal on our radar. Do you understand?” The Russian spoke with an odd accent—partly Russian, partly something else, which made Laverna feel a strange sense of relief. She wasn’t about to be dragged to Siberia out of nowhere.


“Well, Mom ain’t getting me out of this for a while,” Laverna muttered under her breath. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was now bait in the hands of the ACME Detective Agency—the very agency her mother had once worked for. A strange sense of curiosity tugged at her. How would this play out?


Laverna knew a lot about ACME. She’d spent a year there, at age 16, undercover as an exchange student for her mother. The whole thing had been part of a covert operation, and she had used an alias during her time at ACME Academy. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, with her arrest, it dawned on her that using that same alias might have set everything in motion. It was like a twisted game, and she was caught right in the middle of it.


ACME Detective Agency had grown systematically over the past thirty years. They now operated as more than just an international detective organization—they maintained privately owned prisons and mental hospitals, extending their reach far beyond traditional law enforcement. With their vast network of agents, state-of-the-art technology, and nearly unlimited resources, ACME had evolved into a miniature version of the FBI or CIA, untethered to any one country and answering to no governing body. Their power and influence were undeniable, and their authority extended into areas that blurred the lines between justice and control.


It was, without question, her mother’s game that had driven ACME to expand so enthusiastically. Carmen Sandiego’s exploits had not only challenged their methods but had also exposed their vulnerabilities, forcing them to adapt, innovate, and grow. ACME’s transformation was as much a response to Carmen’s legacy as it was to the changing demands of global crime-fighting.


Still, for all their reach and power, one thing Laverna was certain of: ACME was better than Minnesota.


As much as ACME, in their frustration, wanted to discipline Carmen for fleeing the agency 40 years ago, they would likely stop short of harming her daughter. Superstitious ideals would hold them back from using violent or torturous means against Laverna. Instead, they might keep her confined in a mental hospital wing, curled up on a plastic couch, playing Uno with a guard, rather than subjecting her to harsher treatment.


Laverna acknowledged the possibility, analyzing several clues from the ACME detectives sitting in front of her. Anya wasn’t interrogating her—there was no yelling, no circling the desk, no evidence shoved in Laverna’s face. The two detectives’ shoulders were slumped, rounded, their body language open and non-defensive, save for Anya’s natural Russian disposition.


Ruslan, the beige-colored detective, sat with his legs spread apart, glancing at the clock mounted on the wall as if waiting for the next step. There wasn’t a hint of fear in their tone, no hasty movements or bobbing of Ruslan’s Adam’s apple, which would have indicated lying.


From the detectives’ angle, Laverna seemed to be gearing up to break the restraints holding her down. She pushed her strength downward into her toes, preparing to flip the table or the chair over. Her jaw clenched, causing a bluish gleam to flash across her cheeks. Her hands were tightly balled into fists as she calculated whether she wanted to make a move and jump.


She was eventually marched into a sleek ACME van. Laverna noticed Ruslan holding a paper bag, which she assumed contained her personal belongings. ACME clearly didn’t waste time moving her from Bloomington, Minnesota to San Francisco, California. The van passed through a glittery portal, and in an instant, the scenery outside shifted entirely. Laverna wanted to ask what it was, but she was pretty sure the detectives wouldn’t explain.


“Click.” The van’s door slid open as it locked neatly into its compartment. Laverna raised an eyebrow at the efficient, almost mechanical precision ACME seemed to run on. It was unsettling how everything clicked into place like clockwork.


The thought sparked her curiosity. Who even runs ACME these days? There wasn’t a CEO or any clear leadership listed anywhere, and Laverna knew that for a fact. She’d done her homework. It felt almost as if the agency itself had come to life, like a sentient being pulling the strings behind the scenes.


Of course, she might have been jumping to conclusions. More likely, ACME’s leadership was just better at hiding than Carmen ever was.


There were still Christmas decorations hung around, their cheerful colors clashing with the building’s cold, imposing presence. Laverna quickly realized this wasn’t the ACME Detective Agency headquarters. Carmen had told her all about that place—complete with a laugh over how her old dormitory was still intact, a story that had left both of them snickering.


This place was something else entirely. Taller. Grayer.


The structure stood ten stories high, surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Laverna’s sharp gaze took it all in, comparing it to the notes she’d compiled for her mother. Either this was one of the private prisons I researched for her… or one of their mental institutions.


She couldn’t tell for sure yet, but one way or another, she was about to find out.





Chapter 11


Ophelia clutched her freshly stuffed Build-A-Bear teddy tightly, her brow furrowed as she tried to follow the rising tension between Carmen and Devlin.


“She’ll be fine,” Carmen said, her tone calm and measured. “Laverna made a mistake. I’ll bail her out tomorrow, and this will all be behind us.”


“But what kind of mistake?” Ophelia asked, her voice small. “Did she really forget to pay for something?”


“Something like that,” Carmen replied smoothly, her smile not faltering.


From behind the SUV, Devlin groaned loudly. He slammed the trunk shut with a bang that made Ophelia jump. Dusting his hands off on his sweater, he stomped over to Carmen.


“This is ridiculous,” he hissed, his frustration barely contained. “Your daughter—the future head of the Villains International League of Evil—is sitting in a holding cell because she shoplifted! And you’re acting like she broke curfew!”


Carmen’s calm demeanor flickered as she glared at him. “Devlin, lower your voice.”


“No, I won’t,” he snapped, throwing his arms up. “You’re Carmen Sandiego, leader of V.I.L.E.! You don’t do ‘normal.’ You don’t even pretend to do ‘normal.’ And now you’re standing here, trying to play the concerned mom while your heir—”


“Wait,” Ophelia interrupted, her soft voice cutting through the chaos. Her wide, innocent eyes darted between Carmen and Devlin. “Mom is what?”


Both adults froze, Carmen’s composed mask cracking for a split second.


Devlin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.”


Carmen crouched down to Ophelia’s level, her blue eyes meeting the little girl’s confused gaze. “Sweetheart,” she began gently, “there are… some things about our family that are complicated.”


Ophelia hugged her teddy bear closer. “You run a league? What kind of league?”


Carmen hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “A group of people who work together to achieve… certain goals.”


Devlin snorted, muttering under his breath, “That’s one way to put it.”


Carmen shot him a warning glare before turning back to Ophelia.


“But what kind of goals?” Ophelia pressed.


“Well…” Carmen began, her voice soft. “Sometimes, those goals involve things that other people might not agree with. But everything we do is carefully planned and… strategic.”


Ophelia tilted her head, her confusion deepening. “So… is that why Laverna is in jail? Because of this… league?”


“No,” Carmen said quickly, shaking her head. “Laverna made a mistake all on her own. She got caught shoplifting, and that’s why she’s there. But it’s not something you need to worry about, okay?”


Ophelia glanced down at her teddy bear, her small fingers brushing its soft fur. “But isn’t stealing bad?”


Carmen’s expression softened. “Sometimes, sweetheart, life is a little more complicated than ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ But you don’t need to worry about that right now. Just trust that I’ll make sure everything is okay.”


Ophelia nodded slowly, though her eyes still held doubt. She climbed into the backseat with her bear, her small face thoughtful as she tried to piece everything together.


Carmen straightened, brushing off her coat as she turned to Devlin. “Are you satisfied now?”


He scoffed, leaning against the SUV. “You’re the one trying to sell her on the ‘normal family’ act.”


Carmen smirked as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s called parenting. You should try it sometime.”


Devlin rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he slid into the driver’s seat.


From the backseat, Ophelia hugged her bear tightly, her mind swirling with questions about this “league” her mother led and what it meant for her new family.


Carmen’s fingers hovered over the screen of her phone, sending text after text to her private lawyer, Lee Galese, and then quickly switching to her henchmen’s chat. Her mind worked quickly, orchestrating the release of Laverna and keeping everything under control, all while keeping Ophelia blissfully unaware of the chaos around her.


Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen saw Devlin watching her, his gaze sharp and filled with skepticism. He wasn’t impressed with her calm, calculated demeanor, especially considering Laverna’s situation.


“You’re really doing this?” Devlin scoffed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Hiding behind texts while Laverna’s in a holding cell?”


Carmen didn’t even look up from her phone. She continued typing, her expression unreadable. “Yes, Devlin, I’m handling it,” she replied, her voice cold, the words laced with authority. “You’re not in charge of this operation. I am. So unless you have something useful to contribute, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”


Devlin’s eyes widened slightly, but he couldn’t argue with her. After all, she was the boss of V.I.L.E., and as much as he didn’t always agree with her methods, he was still an employee in her criminal empire.


Carmen shot him a look, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “You’re not the one pulling the strings here, Devlin. Remember your place.”


His jaw tightened, but he held back whatever retort he had, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Carmen didn’t need to say more. Her authority was clear. The matter of Laverna’s release would be resolved on her terms—and everyone, even Devlin, would fall in line. .


Carmen instructed Devlin to drive to the hotel so she could think in peace. Devlin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he backed the car out of the parking spot, his eyes flicking between the dashboard monitor and the mirrors to ensure no one was walking behind them. His gaze occasionally drifted toward his boss—soon to be his mother-in-law—who, in his opinion, was acting strangely.


Truthfully, Carmen wasn’t acting unusually at all—at least, not by her own standards. She thought everything was under control. The only thing she wanted was to avoid Devlin spiraling into unnecessary dramatics. After all, what was there to worry about? It was just a jail in Minnesota. Hennepin County, to be exact.


Besides, Carmen believed Laverna needed a taste of her own medicine. This wasn’t the first time her daughter had escaped, wandered off, and landed herself in trouble over the past few months.


They arrived at the hotel, the sleek black SUV pulling up to the valet with a low rumble. Carmen stepped out almost immediately, her movements brisk and purposeful. She paused just long enough to give a quick, curt instruction to Devlin before striding through the grand glass doors of the lobby, leaving him and Ophelia alone in the vehicle.


Devlin shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror where Ophelia sat clutching her newly bought teddy bear. She gazed out the window, her wide eyes filled with wonder as she took in the grandeur of the hotel.


The silence in the SUV was thick, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Devlin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his unease growing as he realized he was now in charge of the young princess.


“So…,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. “First time staying in a place like this?”


Ophelia turned to him with a polite, expectant look. “No, but it’s very nice,” she replied, her tone measured and composed, leaving Devlin feeling even more out of his depth.


Devlin gripped the wheel of the sleek spy-grade SUV, his jaw tight with frustration. Carmen’s stubborn insistence on playing innocent infuriated him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Ophelia perched in the backseat, her teddy bear clutched protectively to her chest, her wide eyes betraying her confusion.


“She wants to play civilian? Fine,” he muttered with a dark chuckle, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “But I’m not sticking around for it.”


Ophelia tilted her head, her small voice breaking the tension. “Where are we going?”


Devlin shot her a quick glance, his grin growing mischievous. “We’re going on an adventure, princess. You’re about to see what being part of this family really means.”


As the GPS announced its route to the jail, Ophelia frowned, hugging her teddy bear tighter. “Are we… picking someone up?”


“Oh, not just anyone,” Devlin replied, his voice dripping with excitement. “My Bonnie, your sister—Laverna. We’re partners in crime, and I’m not letting her rot in some cage.”


Ophelia’s brows knit together, her confusion deepening. “Bonnie and Clyde?”


Devlin laughed, leaning back as the SUV sped off. “Exactly, princess. And now, you’re along for the ride. Better hold tight.”


The sleek SUV zipped through the streets, Devlin expertly taking shortcuts, the city lights flashing by like a blur. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, tension coiling in his chest, but there was a part of him that couldn’t resist the little thrill of the chase. In a rare moment of distraction, he stole a few Skittles from the cup Ophelia had left on the seat next to him. He popped them into his mouth one by one, the sugary sweetness cutting through the stress of the evening.


He glanced over at Ophelia, her eyes glued to the window, the teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. For a moment, the little girl seemed so innocent, so unaffected by the chaos around her. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him.


Get Laverna out of jail, he reminded himself, his thoughts a constant swirl. And protect everything we’ve built. For her. For us.


The AI system’s robotic female voice interrupted his thoughts, her tone dispassionate. “You have reached your destination.”


Devlin’s grip tightened on the wheel, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings as the car slowed and parked. His gaze flicked back to Ophelia, still unaware of the weight of what was happening, what he was about to do.


He let out a frustrated sigh, swiping another handful of Skittles, and then without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to make his move.


“Stay here.” Devlin barked, his voice sharp and commanding, as though he were the one in charge of everything—an illusion he was desperately trying to uphold. He shot Ophelia one last look before storming out of the car, his hand brushing against the door as he slammed it shut behind him.


His footsteps echoed as he made his way toward the automatic doors, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The world outside was colder than he expected, but that was the least of his concerns. He couldn’t afford to lose control now. Not when Laverna’s future—and his own—hung in the balance.


His mind raced as he approached the entrance. This is just another mission, he thought, but even he could feel the lie in his own head. It wasn’t just another mission. This was his life, his place in the world, slipping through his fingers.


The doors slid open, and he stepped inside, focusing on the task ahead, his jaw tight with determination.


Get in. Get her out. Keep it all together. For her. For me.


.Unfortunately, she wasn’t there, and Devlin returned to the hotel, feeling defeated.

 

[Laverna]

Chapter 12:


.Laverna quickly realized that this building was not as easy to categorize as she had initially assumed. She found herself settling into her temporary living quarters, with Anya standing just outside the wooden door. The door itself had an unusual feature—a small window that allowed only those on the outside to see through.


She sat on the firm mattress, leaning back against the thin sheet, her mind racing as she analyzed her surroundings. There was no physical escape—shatterproof glass barred any hope of breaking out, there were no electrical sockets to exploit, and a security camera loomed overhead, silently watching her every move. Everything in the room was bolted down, immovable, and even the bathroom lacked a door, stripping away any semblance of privacy.


“Anya, darling, what is this place?” Laverna asked, her voice dripping with a teasing, villainous tone. However, the blonde woman sitting just outside the door made no effort to entertain Laverna’s curious questions. She remained silent, her expression unreadable, as if the answers to Laverna’s inquiry were not for her to give.


“Silence, Sandiego,” Anya harshly barked in reply, her tone unwavering. “I’m trying to process your inadmittance paperwork to this facility.”


Laverna snorted in response, her amusement barely contained. The formality and sternness of Anya’s words only seemed to fuel Laverna’s defiance, as if the attempt to control her only made the situation more entertaining.


“I don’t even get a say? What is this, a trouble teen wilderness retreat? Oh, never mind, we aren’t even outside,” Laverna sighed, lying on the bed with her head hanging off the edge.


“According to our records, You aren’t a child and you are actually a grown woman.” Anya fought back a laugh at Laverna's deflection techniques., she opened a side google search to study troubled teen industry to comprehend Laverna’s retort as any information gathered can be used for the greater good.


Laverna smirked, realizing ACME wasn’t going to fall for her baby act. How delicious—to finally be seen as an adult, like everyone else. But then her expression faltered. The world around her began to distort, turning purple, green, and blue. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not here, not now. She blinked, but the kaleidoscope of colors only deepened, swallowing her vision. Was she losing herself in it, unable to see anything clearly?


She remained quiet, curling back into the bed, the sterile environment pressing down on her like a heavy weight. The mattress was too firm, the room too cold. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the chaos in her mind. Slowly, tears slipped down her cheeks—silent and unnoticed, marking the first time she felt utterly alone, stranded in a world that no longer seemed to care.


Laverna hadn’t realized she had drifted off, the exhaustion of the past twelve hours finally catching up with her. The room remained eerily still, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing.


Outside the door, Anya stood, watching through the small window. She’d been standing there for a while, making sure Laverna hadn’t tried anything—her eyes never leaving the girl’s form. It had only been twelve hours, but she knew how quickly the notorious Sandiego could turn the tables. Still, there was something different about the girl’s stillness now, a hint of vulnerability that Anya hadn’t expected.


Anya opened the door softly, stepping inside with quiet purpose. She approached the bed, watching Laverna’s sleeping face for a moment. For someone usually so composed, so calculated, Laverna looked almost peaceful—something almost unrecognizable about the person who had caused so much chaos.


“She’s actually sleeping peacefully,” Anya murmured to herself, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and amusement. She couldn’t help it—Laverna’s usual bravado was nowhere to be seen.


As she stood over her, Anya let out a soft breath, almost as if to remind herself to stay sharp. She reached down, her fingers brushing a stray lock of Laverna’s hair away from her mouth. The motion was slow, deliberate, but gentle. As Anya tucked the hair behind Laverna’s ear, her hand lingered for a second. There was a strange, fleeting tenderness in her actions, though her face remained unreadable.


“You know, you really should’ve picked a better spot to cause trouble,” Anya muttered, her voice almost teasing. “I mean, getting arrested for shoplifting? That’s hardly the grand crime I expected from the infamous Laverna Sandiego.”


Anya studied her for a moment longer, her eyes scanning Laverna’s face. Despite everything—the schemes, the chaos, the manipulation—this was the first time Anya saw her as anything but a criminal. There was something almost human about her here, in this fragile moment. But Anya knew better than to get caught up in it.


With a final glance, Anya drew her hand back, taking one last look at Laverna before silently closing the door behind her. The room returned to its quiet stillness, with only Laverna’s soft breathing filling the air.


It didn’t matter, Anya thought, as she walked away. Tomorrow would bring a new set of challenges. But for now, Laverna would remain exactly where she was: trapped in a cage of her own making.

 

[Laverna]

Chapter 13:


Laverna pretended to stay asleep as a nurse pushing a squeaking cart entered the room cautiously. Laverna raised an eyebrow at the ascendo of the nurse’s approaching footprints. Their awkward rhythm jarring her nerves like a poorly played melody .





She didn’t have a clue what time it was or where she was, but she wasn’t about to sit up suddenly and startle whoever was standing next to her bedside.


“Ms. Sandiego, we don’t have full records on you, so we request your cooperation in the process,” a strong, low, stern voice of a man boomed in her ear.


She opened her eyes and sat up, eyeing the man up and down, sizing him up. She decided not to act irrationally because he was at least 6 feet 11 inches tall, which was double her height, and he appeared to be triple her weight.


“Good morning, sir, what is your name? I see. You are already familiar with my name. I do have to correct you—Ms. Sandiego is my mother. You may, however, call me Laverna,” Laverna politely quipped.


The nurse cocked a bushy, unkempt eyebrow, drawing attention to his dark brown eyes, which held an intense warning not to play any games with him.


“Oh, you’re under orders to not fraternize with the inmates?” Laverna questioned aloud, catching herself as she pulled the plastic zipper higher on her orange jumpsuit.


“My name is Hunter Smith,” the nurse answered in a monotone, almost scripted manner.


Laverna nodded as the nurse took her temperature with a device she hadn’t seen before. She was used to lead thermometers in Devlin’s laboratory or those state-of-the-art digital ones under the tongue, the ones her mother preferred to supply her criminal empire.


This device was like a cop’s radar gun used to catch speeders—a device she was aware of but had never held in her curious hands. Yet, this one measured temperature instead of speed in mph.:


“A startled reaction overtook her as the red laser beam from the device landed on her clammy forehead.


‘He isn’t going to hurt you, you know.’


The familiar voice of Anya filled the room, her heeled boots clicking sharply against the floor as she made her way over, either to assist or intervene.


“I wouldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t,” Laverna groaned, eyeing Anya as she stood near the door, as if ACME expected her to bolt. She might be a criminal, but on one side, she was outmatched in height and weight, and then there was the ace detective standing guard.


If she was going to escape like Carmen Sandiego, she would have done so overnight, in a puff of magenta smoke.


Yet, She knew her mother left her alone, She rarely leaves her employees in the hands of the law, this perplexed Laverna deeply as she secretly felt abandoned or like she wasn’t worthy of her mother’s eccentric love anymore.


“Now then, what’s your date of birth?” Hunter Smith asked after he had written down her temperature of 98.9 degrees Fahrenheit.


“October fourteenth, 2xxx,” Laverna sighed as she mentally assessed the situation again to figure out her choices.


“Now, may I have your middle name and your current state or country of residency?” he asked in the same tone he had used earlier.


“My middle name is Annalise, and I choose not to disclose my location of origin,” Laverna replied sharply, a bare-faced smirk appearing on her face; It didn’t last long, even as the questioning dragged on. After the mandatory tests and questions had been conducted, she was instructed to join the other patients in the rec room.


“Now I get it. This is one of ACME’s private mental hospitals,” she groaned as she was led into the room, a thousand complaints brewing in her mind.