*EDITING; DON'T READ*

Chapter 4

The stupid girl's car was gone by the time I arrived at her typical California townhouse. Did she really think I wouldn't find her? She must be nearly as slow as her father is. Oops. I thought to myself, nearly snickering. Was. The lights were off in every room of the house, and none of her neighbors payed any attention to the nearly 7 foot tall man pick-locking her front door. He did it with finesse, as usual. Strange how such a burly man could have such discreet fingers. The lock made a slight clicking noise and our team of 4 was inside, shutting the door behind us quickly.

The house didn't look unkempt nor flawless, as Brick had said. And Brick never lies. At the snap of my fingers, the three burly, identically dressed men started to ransack the house in search of the letters. Obviously the girl had removed them from the office which Brick had entered because he looked through every inch of the room.

"Don't leave a single stone un-turned." I said walking towards a picture of the man who damned me.  Just the sight of him made my head hot. He found so much, in such little time. Who knows how much his daughter has found out? Hell, she could be right on my tail for all I know. I picked up the picture and looked at the uniformed officer. A feeling of disgust swept over me. All I could hope for was that his daughter would end up the same way he did. Sliding my empty left hand into my black suit pocket, I adjusted my black tie to go tighter around the neck of my red button-up shirt.

"I'll be upstairs; and don't forget to look up there, too." I said, walking up the wooden stairs.

I found her room almost immediately. It looked like what I'd imagine any other teen girl's room would look like. An amity by her dresser, pictures of her and her friends, a slightly unmade bed. Normal teenager stuff.

The first place I decided to look was under her bed. I crouched and peered under the loose blankets that fall over the edge of her mattress. There was only a spare shoe and some cobwebs.

I made sure to check every box in her closet, throwing anything that was unimportant behind me, making a mess of her floor. Excellent. The drawers of her dresser was just about as interesting as the closet in the aspect that it held nothing of importance either. All it held was female clothing. No letters. No evidence. Nothing. I tossed her pillow on the ground after finding that the case had nothing to offer.

My men were now thrashing her father's old office. I walked in there and saw them burning random papers that could be of any use to the police. I was about to shout at them that they were going to set the fire alarm off, but found that they had attached wet towels to every fire alarm in the building. My men. My brilliant men. So brilliant, they made me smile ear-to-ear. At least now I knew I wasn't the only smart one around, just the only genius.

That's when I noticed a picture on the ground. I picked it up only to find that it was a high school picture of her.

She was more beautiful than I'd like to admit, but I couldn't help it. She had sleek brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, pink-ish lips, and a pearly white smile that could stop a man in his tracks. But, I would never want to do anything to this girl except get her killed, and that was that.

Another picture was on her nightstand, this one of her, her father, and presumably her mother. What a nice little family portrait. Nice enought to make me jealous. Brick came into the room with a frown on his face, but I could tell he was having fun burning things; he'd always been a sort of pyromaniac. But then he spoke the words I did not want to hear.

"Sir, there's nothing. We've looked in every nook and cranny, they're no where!" An annoyed look spread across my face. I'd like to say I kept my cool, but where's the fun in that?

This girl was smarter than I thought. Or dumber. I couldn't really decide which fit her better, considering that she actually took the letters with her, wherever she went. I stood still for a moment, taking it all in, looking at the picture off her father in my right hand.

I let out a shout and chucked the glass frame holding her dead father's face against the wall opposite of me as hard as I possibly could. Which was very hard, apparently, because the glass shattered, spraying all over that side of the room, and made a dent in the drywall by her bed, which was now covered with shards of glass.

My men watched as I ran impatiently down the stairs and ripped a pen and paper out of a random drawer. I wrote her a fancy,  yet sloppy, letter explaining her utter stupidity, and signed it with my extravagant  trademark: G. M.

My serene attitude was back as I gently set the letter on her dining room table, which was now on her couch for unknown reasons. My men came down the stairs.

"What do we do now?" The shortest, going by the name of George, asked.

"Wait for her to come to us."