Chapter 2- searching for the predator

I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't dare.

Mom either.

She sat hunched over on the dinning table nursing a coffee that had long lost steam.

In front of her was the document the bikers had dropped off two days ago.

We'd spent the most part of the night going over it again and again.

There was no foul play on their end. Not even fine print.

Dad had willingly given up his house as collateral to fund his gambling habits.

Why would they give an obvious drunkard ten thousand dollars?

Those people needed a better financial advisor.

"Anything new?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

She jerked, like she'd been far away and my voice surprised her.

"Oh honey. No, nothing's new" she took in my appearance.

"Going to work already? What's the time?"

"It's 8:05. I'm running late actually"

I wasn't going to work. I'd called in sick. But mom didn't need to know that. I rummage the fridge for any food I can have on the way before giving mom a goodbye kiss and taking the document with me.

"Where are you taking that Honey?" Mom called after me.

"Anywhere away from you! Get some sleep!"

I hoped into my truck and drove out of the driveway.

The main reason I was taking the document with me was to search for any clue of this Gideon and his biker gang. And I would find them, even if I needed to run fingerprints analysis on this document.

The Internet Cafe sat between a pawn shop and a run-down betting outlet. The neon sign had lost its light a long time ago. It was the kind of place people went to disappear for a few hours. The perfect place to find clues.

I parked my red Chevy out front. She’d seen better days, but she was loyal. I took two deep breaths before stepping out. My knitted sweater did nothing to protect me from the chill wind that leisurely pricked my skin as I jogged inside.

The cafe smelled like damp and stuffy. Rows of old computers hummed softly, screens glowing blue and white. A few people sat hunched over keyboards, immersed in whatever was on the screens.

No one cared who I was. No one even spared me a glance.

I paid for a booth near the back and slid into the chair.

The document burned a whole through my bag.

I finally gave into the temptation and pulled it out.

The sides of the papers had worn out from the frequent grip from mom and I.

Caleb Monroe.

Five Million dollars.

Collateral: Monroe's house.

It was as clear as day.

I stared at dad's several signatures, they were all clean. None looked force.

Daddy dearest had willingly and comfortably given up his house for gambling money.

I wasn't going to give it up too.

I pulled open my laptop.

"Well, let's get to searching shall we?"

I whispered.

Gideon.

You'd think they gave up their identity when that dude said Gideon untill you find out that they are over 25,000 people named Gideon and over 5,000 people who are named 'Gideon loan'

And there was nothing useful on Gideon's biker gang.

It was a dead end. But I wasn't giving up that easily.

"Think Matilda" I stared at my laptop hoping to conjure some answers from thin air.

"Where can I get information about a loan shark biker gang that's anonymous and headed by a Man named Gideon?"

Ugh. Dad the ruiner. Fucking up my life even in his death.

How the hell did that drunk bozo get entangled with a biker gang? The only places he went to were the casinos and the bars.

The casinos and the bars.

I searched up on any casino or bar that had ties to a Gideon.

Nothing useful.

Dammit.

It was like there never existed.

Like that bear tattooed guy was a figment of my imagination.

But we all saw them. And the paper in my hands was cold hard evidence that this was real.

One last try.

I searched up on white bear tattooed guy. A bunch of pictures and links to tattoo parlors popped up.

After another unfruitful search, I edited the search to forehead white bear tattooed guy.

Nothing changed. Still tattoo advertisements and inspirations.

"Ugh! For fuck sake!" I dragged my hands down my face in frustration. This was pissing me off.

I was about to delete the search when a rather interesting link caught my eye.

The White bear gang.

The picture attached to it was what gave me the thrill I'd been chasing. It was a grainy picture of that gangster wannabe at a bar, a lit cigarette sticking out of his lips.

I clicked on the link, heart beating frantically.

"What the fuck" I exclaimed mistakenly.

Slapping my hand across my unfiltered mouth, I checked to see if the anyone heard.

No one cared. The guy in the booth beside me had his headphones volume to the max, I could literally hear whatever game he was playing. my eyes trailed back to my screen.

The website had opened to a freaking puzzle.

You've got to be kidding me. What was this? Some kind of prank?.

But this was the only reasonable lead I'd gotten so far, and honestly, as a kindergarten teacher, I was really good at riddles.

The riddle read:

I walk wrapped in winter

Crowned by silence and snow

The cold bows when I breathe

And hunters pray not to meet me

I am colour and creature_

Both mercy and death

What do you dare say I am?

"Oh for fuck sake, what was this? Game of thrones? The north?"

Take deep breaths Matilda. Five year old Millie has given you weirder riddles that you had to solve. No one beats my Millie's riddles.

I read the riddle over and over again, piecing every clue in my head.

It probably exists in the Winter.

The hunters fear whatever this is

And it is a creature

What creature exists in the Winter and is feared by hunters?

White tigers?

wolves?

Polar bears?

I had three animals but just two chances to get it right.

I went back to the riddle.

What clue can streamline my options?

I am colour and creature.

Color? White tigers!

I quicky typed out my answer in the space provided.

And animated and overly exaggerated red X popped up claiming I was wrong.

1 chance left.

Shit. "How the hell was I wrong?"

Colour and creature! White and tiger!

You know what? Fuck it!. This was probably just some dumb website created by some dumb kid to play dumb tricks on desperate people.

Fuck the dumb kid, fuck my dad and fuck the gangster wannabes with white bear tattoos on their forehead.

Wait! White bear? It was worth a shot.

I typed in the words, cursor hovering over the enter option.

Here goes nothing.