Starting off four years in the past, Detective Monica Rollands is shot and killed at her home in southern California. The only thing that remains of Det. Rollands sad life is her daughter Anna. Anna decides to use her journalism and detective skills that her mother taught her to figure out who killed her mother and other high ranking government officials.
The rain was falling heavily outside as the storm was moving in. Rain drops ran down the windows in streams, as if they were all racing each other. Detective Rollands pulled into her driveway after a long day of work. The last thing she wanted was this tropical storm that was moving into the LA area. Rollands took her key out of the ignition and found her house key, then got out of her car.
"Dammit Anna. You were supposed to be home by now." Rollands said under her breath as she approached the door.
Once Rolland was inside her home, she took off her coat and tossed it on one of the dining room chairs. The current case she was working on had her extremely stressed and tired. Her house showed it as well. It was normal for her to get home at extremely later hours and be back in by three or four in the morning.
"Roger, mommy's home!" Rollands shouted.
Out of nowhere came an orange tabby cat. It purred and then rubbed its head up against Rollands' pant leg. Rollands turned for a moment and opened up her purse to find the can of tuna she picked up from a small convenience store three miles up from her house. Rollands found the can of tuna and opened it and then sat it on the ground for her cat to eat.
"Anna?" Rollands said as she heard the door shut.
No answer, but Rollands didn't notice because she had turned on the radio and was making herself a late dinner of canned soup. While the soup was in the microwave, Rollands went over to the kitchen island and sat her gun and badge on the counter. The microwave beeped multiple times, begging Rollands to open the microwave door.
"Anna, dinner is ready!" Rollands shouted, still no answer.
Rollands looked around the living room for a moment and then grabbed her gun and proceeded to the staircase. She pointed her gun up the staircase, slowly walking up the first step. "Anna, answer me!" Rollands shouted.
"What mom?" Anna said, standing behind her mother.
"Christ Anna. You were supposed to home at eleven. It's almost midnight!" Rollands said, putting her gun away.
"Mom, I'm sorry. My phone died and by the time I was getting ready to leave the storm was moving in. They barely let me into the parking complex." Anna replied.
"Okay. I'm not saying I believe you. Anna, it's just with this person on the loose that is killing police officers and their families, I can't help but worry about you." Rollands said, giving her daughter a hug.
Anna ran upstairs to her room, leaving Rollands alone in the living room. "Kids," she laughed, "why did I have one?"
Rollands walked back into the kitchen and took the bowls of soup out and sat them on the island to cool. Rollands walked back into her living room and turned on the television to the news.
"In other news, tropical storm Leslie is making her way into the southern California. Weather officials say that she'll be hitting the coasts late tonight and early tomorrow morning. Officials also say to stay off any major roads during the duration of this storm. Any person that is found to be dri-"
The power went out. "Great." Rollands said.
"MOM!" Anna shouted.
"I know! I'm going out to the garage to grab some candles and matches." Rollands shouted back.
Rollands grabbed her gun and flashlight and walked over to the door in the kitchen that lead to the garage. She hadn't really been in the garage since her husband's accident while working on his car, which still sat there in the garage; it's sole purpose was to collect dust.
Rollands shined her flashlight on one of the many shelves, hoping that one of them would have candles. She couldn't remember the last time she was in here, or when she had last bought a candle. It barely rained in southern California, and tropical storms were scarce.
"This will have to do." Rollands said, grabbing a peppermint smelling candle. "Roger?" She said after hearing the door shut.
"You're a bitch to find Rollands." A tall woman said, then cocking her gun.
Rollands flashed her light at the woman, who then shot her gun. Rollands looked down at her chest where the bullet had went. "Who are you?" Rollands asked softly.
"The Mistress." The woman replied.
Rollands watched the woman as she reached for something in her purse; a rose.
"You're her. The one that's been killing high ranked officers and then leaving a letter of condolence and a rose." Rollands said as she fell to her knees.
"I don't only kill high ranked officers. I also kill low ranked government officials and a few other people." She replied, laughing.
"But," Rollands paused, trying to catch her breath, "why kill me? I'm not a high ranked officer."
"Simple. You were close to cracking the case wide open." She replied, then walking out of the garage and out of the house.
Rollands rolled over on her back. Her shot wound was now burning and ached. Rollands frantically searched for her phone. "Anna." Rollands cried out, but her voice receding into nothing.
Rollands stared at the darkness that consumed the garage, turning her head to the now opened garage door. She heard footsteps which meant her daughter must have been downstairs. "Anna," she paused, coughing up a small amount of blood, "Anna help! Call 911."
By the time Anna had figured out that her mother was still in the garage, it was too late. Detective Monica Rollands was found in a pool of blood, with one shot through the lung. The police held Anna back as they zipped up the body bag and took her mother's body to the morgue.