It was the middle of the night when the knock came at her front door. She rolled out of bed and slowly made her way to the front door and leaned up to look out the peep-hole. The area in front of her apartment was empty, lit by a dim wall sconce that was long over due for a change. She slowly backed away and reached under the entryway table drawer behind her, pulling out a loaded handgun. She flipped off the safety and even slower, opened the front door, gun held tight in front of her.
There was no one there though. No one she could see at least. But sitting on her welcome mat was a small white envelope. She hesitated, looking around once more, before picking it up and hurrying back inside.
Once her door was locked again she flipped the safety back on the gun and put it back in it's place. She turned the envelope over in her hand, it was blank, no writing that could be seen, and she couldn't make out what was on the paper inside even when she held it up to the light.
She yawned as she turned off the hallway light and made her way back to her bedroom. When she slid back into bed, envelope still in hand, she finally opened it.
Inside were two pieces of paper and a photograph. One paper with familiar handwriting that read:
It pays more than the last. High risk, high reward. Read the next letter and you'll understand.
She slid the other paper out from underneath the first one and scrawled in messy childish writing was:
Please save me from the bad man. I don't want to play girlfriend anymore.
She stared at the paper for longer than she knew she needed to before pulling out the photograph of an older man who she guessed was in his late forties early fifties, and a small girl, no older than seven standing next to him. Her round face was bruised and her hair was matted. She didn't need more incentive. When she flipped the picture over there were three things written on it in that same familiar handwriting.
Todd Aster. 48. 1,000,000.
She let out a long sigh and sat back in bed, letting the picture and the letters rest on her lap. Tomorrow. She'd take care of it tomorrow.
When tomorrow came she'd put on her jeans and gray t-shirt, pulled on and styled her blonde wig, she was ready. After morning coffee and a slice of toast she headed quickly out the door, black backpack in hand. She had spent a good portion of the night doing research on Todd, finding where he lived and where he worked. He was the head of an accounting firm in the city, and lived in a penthouse downtown. It wouldn't be easy to get up to him but that didn't bother her.
She found an inconspicuous spot at the coffee shop across the street and chatted up the barista and some patrons while she sat there on her laptop, looking as if she was doing work but really scoping the area and his building. She had gotten there early, before the work day had really begun and saw him leaving at 8am. She left the coffee shop not long after, walking down opposite sides of the street and watching him get into his black SUV.
She knew what car to look for. What license plate to find. She knew where he worked.
She stayed behind to scope the area around his building before making her way to his firm, finding his car in the parking garage and acting like she was supposed to be there.
The day passed slower than she would have liked but she waited patiently for him to finish work. She watched as he didn't get into his car but walked down the street towards the row of bars that were two blocks away. An idea hit her and she changed outfits into something more bar worthy from her backpack. She followed him distantly until he walked into a bar on the corner. She left her backpack in the alleyway outside and headed in, weapon secured inside her thigh under her skirt.
At the bar he had already ordered a drink and undid his tie. She could see now the small scratches on his hands and neck that he had covered with his collar and no doubt blamed on some pet. She didn't sit next to him, she instead sat opposite him on the other side of the bar, shirt open more than enough, and waited for him to make his move.
And he did. He ordered an extra drink from the bartender and made his way over to her. He placed it down in front of her and smiled, his eyes falling on her chest. She played it up, gained a sliver of trust, just enough, for him to invite her to leave the bar with him. Something she happily did.
He didn't want to go back to his place though, he wanted to have her in the alleyway. Just enough danger to make it interesting. He liked danger. She knew that.
So she went with him, she let him kiss her, let him touch her. She let him call her 'baby girl' and called him 'daddy' like he asked. It disgusted her but she needed him fully vulnerable. She needed it to hurt most.
She let him force her to her knees and unzip his pants, but he was in her hands now. She had him right where she wanted him. She pulled the syringe out from between her thighs and, while he was too focused on his erection than anything else, she plunged the needle up into his taint. He gasped as the poison plowed through his body. The pain was unbearable but he couldn't scream, all of the air inside of his lungs seemed to flee him and his eyes bulged. She stood up and put the needle into her backpack that she had stashed not far away before she had gone in.
His bulging eyes looked up at her, pleading for an answer. But she didn't give him that satisfaction and instead pulled out her phone and send a quick picture to her employer that would send and delete immediately. A moment later a red check mark appeared on her phone screen, mission completed.
She left the alley and headed back the way she had came. A quick change in a distant alley saw her return to the jeans and gray t-shirt and the blonde wig was shoved back into her backpack.
She returned to her apartment later in the night to a bag sitting on her doorstep. Payment. She brought it inside and as she always did, locked the door and checked her gun.
Upon opening the bag was a note and a picture.
The girl is safe. Good work.
The picture was taken from a distance of the girl sitting on the trunk of a police car.
She took a seat on her couch and placed the picture inside the book that sat on her coffee table. She'd file it away as she always did later, but for now she needed to decompress and she desperately needed a shower.
