𝟒. 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

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𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘆, 𝗠𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟰𝘁𝗵, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟬
𝟴:𝟭𝟯 𝗮𝗺
𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗔𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀
𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻, 𝗧𝗲𝘅𝗮𝘀


𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 sleep, Abbie could practically hear her brain screaming. Her eyes felt internally swollen, her ears heavy, and any minuscule movement she made was met with a dizziness and throbbing that covered her entire head, spreading even to her neck and shoulders. The sunlight streaming in from the break between her beige curtains was almost blinding, seeming to land directly on her face no matter how she turned. Her hair was being pulled by the follicles and the only conclusion she could draw was that somebody had drilled into her skull.

But the ringing wasn't only coming from inside her head; it was her phone buzzing across her nightstand. She groaned, scrambling to answer. "If somebody's not already dead," she warned, "they soon will be."

She wasn't expecting the person on the other end of line to be Derek Morgan. "Poor choice of words, sunshine."

Remembering the events of the past few days, Abbie sighed. "Shit."

"They think it's Lisa Holden," he confirmed her suspicions. "How fast can you get to Third Ward?"

She groaned again, rubbing her eyes to then glance at the time on her phone screen. "Give me twenty."

There was a pause. "Make it fifteen, your brother's on edge."

Abbie scoffed. "He's always on edge." She ended the call, dropping her head to her pillows, staring up at the white ceiling above her with a whine. After rolling out of the covers, popping two Advil, and getting dressed, she hurried down to the parking garage of her apartment building to then drive to the address Morgan had texted her, her head still pounding.


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"𝐌𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇, 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 of the recent abductions are members of your group," Emily was explaining to Nina Finch, the coordinator of Modern Mothers. She and Rossi had met with her in the community centre that the group frequented. Her designated office was small but not cramped, with dust-covered blinds hanging over the windows and a family photo angled towards her desk. The two agents sat on the tan vinyl couch, adjacent to the door.

"I heard," Nina nodded, her ring-covered fingers returning a few loose invoices to a file in the drawer of her desk. "I knew Lisa and Marissa, they were good women."

Rossi tilted his head instinctively in response. Nina was referring to the two victims in the past tense. It could simply be a slip of the tongue, but it was noteworthy. "How many members do you have?"

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