Hit man

Peter

A call came in, incredibly early in the morning. The receiver of the 9-1-1 call called in and said they assumed it was a prank, since the girl had hung up immediately. I decided to check it out. I pull my undercover vehicle onto a street, luckily we could trace the girls number. And empty car sat under a stop light with all the doors open. And I mean, all of them; even the gas door. I hold my gun at the ready as I approach the vehicle.

Inside, the keys are sill in the ignition, but the battery's dead. The car, other than that is completely empty. No seats, not seatbelts, just a steering wheel and the front dash. On the back windshield in black marker, the words 'Come find me.' are written in all caps. I pull out my cell and call for immediate backup.

-45 minutes later-

The only evidence is the vehicle, and my commander says it's probably a trick. I would have agreed, until a text message came through on my phone of a girl, tied to a chair, unconscious.

"Bens," I say to one of my teammates, she looks over at me. I toss her my phone. "ID this girl, and trace the number." Felicia Bens nods and slips my phone into an evidence bag.

"Jones," someone says behind me, I turn to him, "We just got a call of a suspicious figure on Jefferson." I nod. I nod to my commander and get in my car, headed for Jefferson street.

I survey the neighborhood and talk to the woman who called in. She tells me that someone was messing around Jessica Lenard's house. When she shows me Jessica's house, and I reach it, the front door is cracked. I push it open, my gun in hand. I check every room. The house is clear. Then I hear a noise in the upstairs room. I creep up, and aim my gun.

"Freeze!" I shout. A fat orange cat is sitting on the bed and I sigh. I flip on the lights and look around. A girl's room, most likely Jessica's. My back up cell rings in my pocket.

"Jones," I answer.

"Peter," Bens says, "The car belongs to a Terry Washington and the picture is of a Terry Washington and I want you to guess who's number that was."

"Terry Washington?" I guess.

"Yep," Bens says, "but I don't get it. Why would the abductor use his victims phone?"

"Less tracing to him," I answer, walking towards the desk. "Bens, send a team to Jefferson street."

"Why?" Bens asks. I stare at the black letters sprawled on the desk, the same as on the back of Terry's car. The words on the desk say, 'Better hurry. Two girls is a lot for one cop.'

"we have to victims, and I don't want to see one body bag on this case, aside from the one that we bag this ass in." I say, "Hurry." I hang up. I pull a pair of rubber gloves out of my back pocket, and I start investigating.