fbi- lrh

.26

Evelyn.

"What do you think?" Ashton's voice echoed from across the hall.

Luke responded, "I don't know, maybe it would be better... this way."

I turned around to see them trying to hang up a piece of art in the hall, though ultimately failing completely.

A laugh escaped me when Ashton grabbed the hammer, trying to hit the nail but accidentally hitting his own thumb. In that commotion, Luke dropped the artwork, it crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Get out of the way you two," I grabbed the nail and hammer, hitting it straight in. Then I took the picture and hung it up correctly.

I muttered, "Dumb and dumber over here."

"Hey!" Luke exclaimed, a tone of whining in his voice. I rolled my eyes as he wrapped his arms around me, tucking his head into my neck.

"Awww," Ashton hummed, "Oh Chief Hood how are you?"

I nearly screamed, ripping myself from Luke's grasp and whipping my head around, just to find nobody there.

Ashton cackled in laughter, tossing his head back as I groaned, "I have a hammer in my hands."

Then, his laugh went silent.

Lovely.

"Anyways," Luke nudged me, "Ready to go question our suspect?"

I nodded. The man captured from the club the other day was now healthy, prepped, and ready to be questioned.

Just then, I received a call. I looked down at my phone, and- to my surprise- it was the President of the entire Federal Bureau.

Nerves shot down my spine at the sight, anxious at what that possibly could entail for me. He was above Calum, above everyone in the entire FBI.

I swiped to answer, lifting it to my head with a slight shake to my hand, "Sir?"

"Hello Agent Fitzgerald," He slowly spoke, "It's been a while."

I answered professionally, though nerves racked my entire body, "Yes it has sir, what could I possibly do for you?"

He sighed before talking once more on the phone, "We think the Painter is back."

My blood ran cold.

The Painter, although aninnocent-sounding name, was not innocent at all.

He was one of my older cases, a serial killer that truly put me on the map in the FBI, and what got me promoted to the level that I am at today.

The Painter was a man who kidnapped women between the ages of 25-30, killed them without a mark, and then returned them to their houses.

The creepiest part was how he returned them: he painted their faces, adding a swipe of red lipstick, and glued their eyes open.

Horrific, to say the least.

I had gotten very close to busting him- I nearly found out his identity. I saved his last victim and busted his warehouse.

Yet, that was exactly when he went underground. With our trail falling short, the case became cold very quickly.

"I'll send you the information right now," The FBI president continued, "I trust that you will get on this as soon as possible."

Emphatically, I spoke into the phone, "Right away sir."

With that, he hung up. I turned around to the two men, who were both staring at me with wide eyes.