ᴇᴍᴇʀᴀʟᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴋ.

XX

3:39 PM

Mumbling a rap verse to herself under her helmet, Alex laid across the seat of her bike, the kickstand leveling its balance. Her eyes remained closed under the helmet until she felt her personal phone vibrate in her jacket.

She flicked her visor up before digging into her inner jacket pocket, smirking at the caller ID, brightening her screen. "I assume you got everything, yeah?" She asked as soon as she answered the call, pressing the speaker button.

"Yeah, I did, but what the fuck am I lookin' at?" The slightly deeper female voice on the other end smacked their teeth. "I already know who lil' shawty is, but who's the nigga with her?"

"Ain't you supposed to be the detective?" Alex snorted. "We only know he goes by Juju; we don't know his real name, not even his surname...but I don't think he's the problem here, to be real with you."

"You thinkin' it's the girl?"

"I know it's her, man," Alex corrected the entity she spoke with. "And I got the tape recording to prove that shit too. You free around...eleven tonight?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"I clock out around then. Now, if I get called back in after that, that's a whole different story."

"Well, clock out, and meet me at my place around that time, got it? I'll let you listen to the recording when you get there..." Alex instructed the detective, tapping away at her phone screen.

"I ain't got the addy, Alex-"

"Just sent it through." She cut the detective off, rising from her position on her seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta head back to EP before London gets sus."

"She gon' ask you where you been regardless." The detective stifled a low laugh. "Based off the shit you told me, she sound like she be keepin' tabs on all you niggas..."

"She's our boss; it makes sense." Alex snorted. "It ain't like she got chip trackers in our necks – she just wants to make sure we're out handling business, whatever and wherever it may be. Speaking of trackers..."

"Wassup?"

Alex bit down on her bottom lip, soon shaking her head. "Actually, I'll wait 'til we link up. Not sure how I can explain what I'm thinking over the phone..."

"Nah, go 'head 'n say it." The detective encouraged Alex. "You already had my niggas put a tracker on her whip; what else you need?"

"...Hmm..." Alex hummed, adjusting one of her side mirrors. "If I can get my hands on her phone and ask your people to pull some info from it, how much would that cost me?"

"What info we talkin' 'bout?"

"Message logs and call logs, Google search results, bank account statements; anything to help build my case against her," Alex explained. "The one thing I don't know how to do yet is hack cell devices. That's why I'm asking you."

"Heard that..." The detective huffed. "Aight, tell you what – get her phone and scrounge up another hunnit-k by Monday. I got a homie at the bureau that can handle that."

"That easy?" Alex raised an eyebrow at her phone screen.

"I mean, not unless you want me to bring the bitch in for questionin' and fuck up ya whole plan-"