Triple Digits

Corey Strickland

"You know, it is ridiculously easy to tamper with other racers' cars."
The killer's voice emanated from somewhere off-screen, a video feed of Triple Digit still tied up in that same chair.
Corey leaned forward angrily against the desk in the briefing room, where Dunfield had gathered every officer Mid-City had left- twelve, to be exact- for them to watch the video together before they would be heading to the Docks to try and find Triple Digit and the killer. He scoured the background for any sign of where Claire was being held, his heart hammering in his chest. All he needed was a single thing- anything to go off of, or research. The shape of a doorway, the type of flooring of the building they were in- anything.
Nothing stood out. This kid, however young, was aggravatingly smart.
The walls appeared made of plain white tarp, with no patterns or markings on them to indicate where they were bought from, and the chair was just a simple, metal camping chair, the kind that could be folded up and packed in the back of a truck.
Nothing on Claire herself said where she could be. Her eyes shifted between the camera, and somewhere to the left of it- looking at the killer?
She said nothing. She didn't tap her feet in morse code, or blink. She didn't try to mouth anything thanks to the gag across her face.
"They all leave them in their private garages, and those things are easy to hack or break into. Quickshift didn't even know his car had been tampered with the day he began racing. My victim tonight won't know what I did to her car, not until it's entirely too late."
Claire paled sharply in the chair, and Corey gripped the edge of the table when the killer strolled into view, hating him more than anything else in the world. The other officers in the room all leaned forward, searching him for clues. He wore that same black hoodie, the same boots, and his hands were in gloves tonight, obscuring the tattoo.
There were no professional tattoo parlours in Mid-City, which meant the kid had either lived elsewhere previously, or gotten a backyard tattoo. Considering the state it had been in, with wobbling, broken lines, Corey was betting on the latter. Which meant there were no leads for him to hunt down in that department. Anyone could have given him that tattoo.
Leaning in, the killer said in a quiet voice barely loud enough for Corey and the others to hear, "I caught some people who are very near-and-dear to you."
Claire's muscles tensed in her arms, like she was trying to hug herself even with her arms tied behind her back, and his heart broke. She must have been terrified, not knowing if anyone was coming to save her or not, or what the killer had done to Maddison and Helix. Those were the people Claire would assume the killer spoke of. Her 'near-and-dear.'
"I want an officer monitoring for any reports about missing people," Dunfield ordered at the killer's words. One of the officers rose from his position at the front of the room, and left to do just that.
Corey knew for a fact the killer was lying, and that Maddison and Helix were safe in hospital, guarded by an officer each in front of their doors, but Claire didn't. The terror in her eyes was real.
Please don't let me die.
"Is she trying to break out?" Another Officer questioned, noticing the same movement but interpreting it entirely differently. Corey shook his head silently at the back of the room, not bothering to verbally correct the other officer. Dunfield raised an eyebrow toward him, having noticed it. Corey turned his gaze back to the screen, rather than answer Dunfield's silent question.
He couldn't explain what he knew, that she was trying to hug herself, without revealing who Claire was in the racer world. He wouldn't do that to her.
"If you race, Triple Digits, then I'll release your friends, safe and sound. Of course, there's no guarantee you'll survive this race."
He tightened his grip further on the table, silently urging at the camera, at Claire's shaking body, 'Say no! Refuse to race! Save your own life, just for a little bit longer!'
Gods, he prayed she figured out the killer was lying, and that there was no way he could have gotten to Maddison and Helix.
"It will be interesting," Dunfield remarked at the head of the room, everyone turning to look at their Commissioner, "to discover who Triple Digits friends are." Corey knew what Dunfield was thinking- the kidnapping of people in Mid-City would be reported, and once they knew who Triple Digits allies were, it would narrow the search down on Mid-City's best street-racer. The fact that she had been kidnapped, was possibly being tortured, was second to finally having the satisfaction of finding her.
Except Dunfield didn't know that the killer was lying, and Triple Digit's friends were safe in the Mid-City hospital, and there were no missing people to be found.
'It was another taunt,' Corey realised with a grimace. By implying that more people were in danger, the station would be divided up to find everyone in time, rather than just searching for Triple Digits.
Unless Corey revealed who she was, that Triple Digits was Claire Miles. If he did that, then they would know the missing people were a fake claim, and the attention could be turned back to finding his girlfriend.
It would mean throwing her to the wolves. Dunfield had been furiously hunting Triple Digits for years. Her presence in the city was viewed as a constant mockery of the Mid-City police.
Out of the frying pan, and into the fire- Claire would be rescued from the killer, but thrown into jail for ten years.
Corey could be thrown in there with her, for being an accomplice. Maddison and Helix, too.
The problem with Claire was she would do anything for her friends, a fact that became blaringly obvious when she swallowed thickly on the other side of the camera, and choked out, "I'll do it. I'll race." No!
The table he flipped had every Officer, including Dunfield, swinging to face him, Corey panting sharply with anger. Why?! Why would she agree to die for them?! How the Hell could she not know the killer was lying to her?!
He stormed for the door. The killer was still speaking, this time to the Officers. Corey had a feeling his name was spoken, not that he cared. That asshole could rot in Hell, along with his mocking! He didn't need anymore reminders of how he had failed Claire.
"Strickland, a word in my office!" Dunfield barked angrily at his back, motioning for two Officers to right the table while the others awaited further orders. Their Commissioner looked to them.
"I want six of you at the races tonight, including you, Strickland, if you can learn to control yourself. The rest can be following reports about missing people in the Mid-City area. Go. Strickland, office. Now."
His body was buzzing by the time he made it to Dunfield's office, waiting in the hall by the door, scanning for signs of Dunfield, who emerged half a minute later, his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, the Commissioner unlocked the office door, waving Corey in.
He couldn't even sit down, reduced to pacing back and forth like a caged animal in the small space.
Dunfield's office looked like it had stepped out of a different era. Striped blue and white wallpaper with a decorative wooden board running waist-high around the room, yellowing curtains, and an oak desk with a computer that was plugged into the wall. There were no personal effects- no photos of Dunfield's family, or any decorative items. A bookshelf against one wall held dozens of law books, police reforms, and case files, each one labelled neatly and clearly. A cupholder on the desk sat above a journal, where Dunfield was taking notes on the killer, his notes colour-coded for ease.
The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air, broken up by an air freshener plugged into the wall, smelling strongly of lavender. A record player on a table by the window played a relaxing hum, and Dunfield took a seat on the other side of the desk, reaching behind him to where a counter was cluttered with kitchen appliances. Pulling out two mugs, Dunfield poured a cup of tea, sliding it on a coaster toward where Strickland was standing near the door, still struggling to regain control of himself. He wanted to flip another desk.
Corey had never been a violent person. In fact, his mother had called him a 'softie' growing up, while his father lovingly referred to him as his 'teddy-bear'. But tonight, he needed to hit something. Desperately. He felt like he was losing his mind!
"Sit down, son." Dunfield's voice was no longer stern now that they were out of view from the other Officers. Instead, it had gone soft, but firm.
Not wanting to be pushed out of the case, he forced himself to pull out a chair and sit in it, bouncing his leg wildly. Dunfield motioned to the cup of tea, and Corey picked it up, clinging to it. He took a hesitant sip, tasting chamomile. It settled deep in his empty stomach. He hadn't slept much, even when Dunfield had sent him home, and he hadn't eaten anything.
"I know you are eager to find the killer, and that there is a personal aspect behind your lack of conduct," Dunfield began with whatever speech he was planning to scold him with. While he spoke, the Commissioner reached back behind him again, opening the cupboard under the counter and pulling out a packet of biscuits that he broke open, dropping three on a plate and placing them down next to Corey's cup of tea. Two chocolate biscuits, and a shortbread.
"But you need to calm yourself down. Everyone here is eager to find the killer. We all have people we love, Strickland."
Corey's heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he clung a little tighter to his cup of tea. Had Dunfield figured out who Claire was? That the woman they were watching in the videos was Claire?
"I am going to ask you something, and you are going to answer me truthfully."
Gods... He had. He'd figured it out! Corey braced himself, knowing he couldn't lie to Dunfield, not even to save Claire, and Dunfield asked, "Is Miss Miles an ally to Triple Digits? Is that why the killer has taken her? To use her as leverage against the racer?"
Relief made his shoulders slump, and Corey shook his head, "No, Sir. She's not. I think Claire was taken to taunt me, and thus, the Mid-City Police."
Dunfield nodded slowly, exhaling, and then mused, "Which is equally interesting. There are plenty of Officers with family members, and ones that are more... established," Dunfield chose his word carefully, like he was afraid of sending Corey into another rage, "than you and Miss Miles. Why not take one of them?"
"I think it's because of Claire's ties to the racing world. Our relationship isn't as established as a married Officer, but she's probably the only girlfriend or wife of a police officer to be a criminal, Sir, and one with connections to the killer's world."
"I see. Do you think the killer could be someone Miss Miles knows from the racing community?"
It was possible, but Claire hadn't recognised the kid who had come into the café.
Then again, all the racers wore disguises at those events. The killer could be someone Triple Digits knew, but not outside of their outfits and aliases. Corey took another sip of tea to steady himself, and admitted, "They all wear disguises, and have fake names at the races, Sir. Claire didn't recognise the killer when he came into the café where she worked, but it's possible they still knew each other." Dunfield knew about everything leading up to, and during, the trip to Redwood. Including the visit to the café. The footage had already been requested from the security camera around the university, and analysed. All of them had gone out ten minutes before the killer had arrived, and only come back up long after he was gone. The same thing had happened to any security cameras set up in the homes of Maddison's neighbours. They had nothing to go on but Corey and Claire's descriptions, and what they could see of the killer in the videos- which wasn't much at all.
"For the killer to know who Miss Miles is, he would have to know her racing name."
"Yes, Sir."
"Do you know her racing name, Strickland?"
Corey bit his lip, pretending to think. He had a choice in front of him.
Dunfield had not directly asked if Claire was Triple Digits. Twisting the conversation would need to be done expertly, to make sure Dunfield did not realise that he was avoiding answering the question.
"I am aware that she is a racer, Sir."
It was a non-answer, the kind of bullshit a lawyer might spit. Luckily, there was a knock on the door before Dunfield could question him further, and Officer poking his head in and confirming, "The footage from tonight was a live-stream, but it wasn't sent out on any connection, just to the station, Sir."
Which meant the killer had an intimate knowledge of hacking, to broadcast it only to the police, and nobody else. As well as cars.
A high schooler who could hack, and knew enough about engines to tamper with them. That would narrow it down. Dunfield had said the kid didn't attend the school, but if he was used to disguising himself, like a racer would, then he might be hiding in plain sight.
"This was also found, posted from the same account the killer is using to broadcast to us, Sir."
Dunfield waved Officer Chrisholm into the room. They typed something into the search bar of Dunfield's computer, and moments later, pulled up a post on a popular social media page. It was a vote between Triple Digits and Velocity, titled only as: 'Winner on Monday?'
The post detailed the cars they would be driving- Velocity in an S-Class Basilisk, while Triple Digit would be driving an X-Class La-Luna.
There were thousands of votes for both racers, and an argument starting in the comments on who was more likely to win. Hundreds of comments poured in. Some stated that Velocity was driving the faster car, others said it didn't matter, Triple Digits was better. She could beat Velocity in an X-Class.
It seemed even people from outside of Mid-City were voting. Corey could see comments from Terradale, Cotaroo, Redwood... Dozens of cities flashed by, along with names and profile pictures.
The vote was set to close in ten minutes.
What was the vote meant to be? Or was it simply the killer trying to ascertain who the people of Mid-City liked more, so he could kill the other?
"I need to be down at the Docks," Corey begged Dunfield, twisting in his chair to face him.
If Claire was going to be there, he needed to get her back.
Dunfield hesitated, watching the votes shift minute-by-minute, and to hone it in, Corey hissed, "The killer is going to kill one of those women tonight, Dunfield, if not both of them! We should at least try and stop it!"
Would Casanova and Bullet show up? Were they also in danger?
Officer Chrisholm looked between the two of them, stepping forward and saying, "With all due respect, Commissioner, I think Officer Strickland is right. Quickshift's death was brutal. We should be out there trying to prevent more."
With a sigh, Dunfield gave in, nodding, "Very well. Six of you will be at the Docks. Strickland, you can go with them. Considering your knowledge of the racers, you can lead the team. I expect you on your best behaviour."
He rose without hesitation, Dunfield waving them out of the room, and Strickland headed to his locker in the police station. He still had his gun on him, and it was mostly loaded, minus one bullet.
Grabbing an extra pair of handcuffs, he placed them on his utility belt, along with a police radio. In the locker room, other Officers were grabbing equipment as well, and Dunfield entered the room.
"Tonight, Officer Strickland will be leading the five of you," he began, "We want to catch the killer, and prevent further deaths. Once the killer is caught, he will be brought to the station, unless he puts you or civilians in danger, in which case, you may handle the situation as your training dictates." Dunfield looked to him for this. He was the wildcard tonight, in Dunfield's eyes.
"Good luck tonight, Officers." Dunfield positioned himself so he was close to him, leaning in and mumbling under his breath, "Remember they all have families, too, Strickland."
Corey took a moment to survey the room once Dunfield was gone.
Officers Chrisholm and Officer Lambert were talking while they did a weapon check.
By the door, Officer Quinn was checking to make sure she had everything before they left, having already grabbed her equipment, while Officer Hawkes was sipping from a cup of coffee.
They were all awaiting his orders.
"Travel in two's," he ordered, thinking back to the attack earlier tonight, where Officer Justin had been killed, and Officer Higgins injured, "Keep your eyes peeled and your wits about you. Remember, we are there only for the killer, or any of his kidnapped victims. Do not waste time charging anyone else for anything."
"What if they're breaking the law?" Officer Hawkes questioned, and Corey took a deep breath, reminding, "We're going to an illegal street-race. Everyone there is, by rights, breaking the law. We are there for the killer, or his victims. Try your best to find the main racers and convince them to drop out of the race. Tell them about the danger to their lives. Velocity, Bullet, Casanova and Triple Digits."
He saw the Officers jotting down the names, and with a final exhale, he looked through the briefing room, to the screen that was frozen on Claire's terrified face. Dunfield had paused the live-feed on that frame, which showed the entire room, to check it for more clues later.
He needed to find her tonight...
The Officers filed out, Corey grabbing the keys for another police car, since his was in evidence, and made his way down to the Docks...