Taken Away

CHAPTER 7

I burst into our office, almost making Josh jump out of his seat. "Meet me at the forensic laboratory." Josh looked at me, confused but intrigued by my sudden appearance and urgency. "What's going on?" he asked, clearly startled by me. I didn't waste any time answering him, but instead simply turned and hurried out of the office, waving my arm for him to follow me. "Just come with me," I said. "I'll explain once we get there." Josh quickly followed after me, a sense of urgency and curiosity in his eyes. He didn't say anything as he rushed out of the office and followed me out of the precinct and towards the forensic laboratory, his pace quick and his mind racing for answers.

As Josh and I entered the forensic laboratory, we saw Lisa sitting at her desk, her red hair tied up in a ponytail, and wearing a white coat as white as a cloud. She looks up at us as we walk in, and her expression immediately turns to one of surprise when she sees us come in with the evidence bags. She stood up and walked over to us, a look of curiosity and anticipation on her face as she took the evidence bags from us. "What have you got?" "I did some digging in the park and found two cups," I explained, handing one of the evidence bags to Lisa. "One for Lia and one..." I looked at Josh, and he completed my sentence.

"And one for the killer," he whispered. Lisa took the evidence bags, examining the cup with Lia's name on it carefully.

"It better have his fingerprints," I echoed, turning my attention to Lisa and watching as she examined the evidence.

Lisa looked at us and nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. "Hmm, I'll take a look, then I'll give you the results," she said, her tone indicating that she would do her best to help us get to the bottom of this case. I could see that Josh was just as eager to find out more about this discovery as I was. We both wait expectantly for Lisa to finish her examination of the evidence bags.

As Josh and I returned to our office, I couldn't help but get a nagging feeling in my gut. Something about this case seems off, and I can't shake the feeling that this is not the end of the story. "Why...why do I have a feeling that all of this is just a play?" I echoed, biting my lip in thought. "Like he's playing with us," I said, my voice quiet and reflective.

Something about this case feels off, and I couldn't help but feel like the Heart Collector was playing a game with us. It's like he's taunting us and daring us to catch him.

As I sat at my desk, trying to make sense of the discovery of the cups, my mind raced with thoughts and theories about The Heart Collector.

What if the Heart Collector left the cups there intentionally, as a way of taunting us and leading us on a wild goose chase? What if this discovery is just part of a larger plan by him, and we're playing right into his hands? My thoughts continued to spiral, filled with doubt and uncertainty. We spent most of the afternoon looking through notes and trying to find any clues or patterns that might lead us in the right direction. When Lisa called for us, we headed over to her office, expecting to learn more about the results of her examination of the evidence bags. Lisa looked up at us, her expression serious and her tone formal. "There are no fingerprints...on his cup," Lisa said, her expression shifting to disappointment. The discovery of the Starbucks cups with Lia and Leo's names on them brought us a ray of hope that we might finally catch The Heart Collector, but Lisa's report has destroyed that hope. The Heart Collector wore gloves to avoid leaving behind fingerprints, and he knew what he was doing. This meant that we couldn't rely on forensic evidence to solve this case. We have to come up with a different strategy for catching the Heart Collector.

As I walked up the stairs to my apartment complex, my phone started to ring. The number was unknown to me, and I wondered who could be calling me at this hour. I answered the call with a sense of nervousness, hoping that it wasn't too serious. "Hello?" I said, trying to hide the concern in my voice. "Too far from the truth," a raspy, deep voice replied, its words sending a chill down my spine. My heart jumped into my throat. I tried to stay calm and collected, but the fear and intimidation in his voice are hard to ignore. I didn't reply right away; instead, I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I have to be careful with what I say, not wanting to give him any more information about our case or investigation. "What?" was all I managed to say before the caller hung up on me. I'm left standing in the hallway, phone in hand, trying to figure out what just happened. Who was that? What did he mean by "too far from the truth"? I didn't have the answers to these questions, and I was left with a sense of uncertainty and unease. I saved the number so I can recognize it if he calls again. I tried to get some sleep, but I was still shaken up by the call. The words "too far from the truth" keep echoing in my mind, leaving me with more questions than answers. I lay in bed, unable to sleep, my mind racing with thoughts of who the Heart Collector could be and what his motives could be. It was clear that the case is taking a toll on me, and I couldn't help but feel frustrated by the constant dead ends and setbacks that keep getting in our way. After tossing and turning all night,I decided to take another look at the picture of The Heart Collector that we have. I pulled out my phone and zoomed in on the picture, staring at the mysterious figure and trying to spot any details or clues that we may have overlooked before. I look at his face; the expression on his face reveals nothing about his thoughts or motivations. I also look at his body, trying to determine if there's any clue about his identity or background. Nothing. The mask hid his face well.

"How did he get my number?" I wondered to myself, my mind racing with possibilities. Who does he think he is, calling me at this hour and taunting me like that? He clearly has no idea who he's dealing with or if he thinks he can easily intimidate or manipulate me. He wants to throw us off his track, but he's playing with fire if he thinks he can just toy with me like this. I moved out of bed, walking towards the window where the moonlight was peeking through the blinds. I dialed the number once again. I dialed the phone number once again, eagerly awaiting a response. However, as soon as the phone rings, I instantly receive a message: "The number you have dialed does not exist." "Of course," I murmured, rolling my eyes in frustration. "If he wants to play, so be it." I'm going to catch him and make him pay for his actions, no matter what it takes.