The Kidnapper

My First Lead

        It has been a few months since the dreadful day. Cynthia's funeral has passed and Asher is finally, after weeks of refusing to go, has returned to school. I have been talking to the police and trying to get any possible lead on who could have done this and why. 

        "Find anything today David?"

        "Nope sorry," replied my new police officer friend. He's a little overweight and likes to wear sunglasses to look "cool." His rounded, pudgy face would have been cute if he was four or five, but he si in his mid-thirties. David is the definition of a stereotypical cop. "I will call you if we find anything. You know what," he thought about it for a second, "can you keep a secret?"

        "Is it about Cynthia?"

        "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there was an eye witness that we have already interrogated. He wasn't too helpful, but if yo-"

        "Tell me," I interrupted, "where he lives. Please, David."

        "Woah, dude, chill. I know what you want and I was planning on telling you that. He lives on 4483 N. Irene Street."

        "Thanks," and with that, I turned around and walked out.

        "Hey Mark!" David called. I stopped but didn't look or say anything. I had too much on my mind. "Go easy on the poor fella, he seemed pretty shaken up." Like I was gonna do that. That poor bastard was going to tell me everything he knew, or things will head south for him, and fast. I got in my car, a 2009 Subaru, and started the engine. The sound reminded me of my anger for the murderers and the hate that I felt for them. That man was definitely gonna talk.

    ~~~

        Knocking on his metal security door provoked his St. Bernard, causing her to bark her head off and get aggressive. Good thing she was inside because I would get torn apart from a dog that size, I thought to myself. The man that came to the door was a big, slightly muscular man with a small, crooked nose and wide set eyes. "Go, get!" He yelled at his St. Bernard, "What do you want?" He stepped outside.

        "I heard you were a witness of the break in that happened a few months ago. I just wanted to ask a few questions."

        "I don't have to say anything to you," he replied sternly. Definitely not shaken up at all.

        "Unless you're an accomplice I personally don't see any reason for you to be rough with me." That was a mistake. He instantly got defensive and his face got red.

        "I outa punch you now, accusing me of something like that. I don't need this," and with that, he left. He got into the car in the driveway, a big SUV, and drove off. I saw this as my chance and got in my car to follow him. There's something strange going on and I don't like it.

        Tailing this man proved more difficult than I thought. Staying a few cars behind was easy, but keeping sight of him was tricky. I would lose him on almost every turn, get stuck at red lights, and I couldn't get any closer. It was infuriating! After ten to fifteen minutes of anger filled searching and following, he arrived at his destination. It was a bar named The Drunken Nobleman, a bar with a unique medieval theme to it.

        Five minutes after he walked in, I walked in on a hunch something helpful was to be gained, and it was my only lead so I didn't really have a choice. The man was sitting at a table off in a corner and had a couple friends with him. There were two men and a woman, all shady and suspicious. I sat at the bar just six or seven feet away, listening to their conversation.

        "Anybody follow you?" He looks like the ring leader.

        "Nah, s'all good." Said the man I followed.

        "Alright, down to bui-"

        "Would you like a drink sir?" Of all times for a waiter to show up. 

        "Uh, yes, give me a Blue Moon please," I replied. It was the only beer I liked. I glanced over at the people I was eavesdropping on and they looked back. That means no more looking.

        "-ey still on your case, or are you in the clear?" They all sound the same, I couldn't tell who was talking.

        "This guy showed up to my door earlier t'day asking 'bout me being an eye witness, but no feds."

        "I say we kill 'em!" That sounded like a girl. I think.

        "We don't 'ave to do that, and keep your voices down! Now, did ya get the stuff?

        "Here's your drink sir," interrupted the waiter, sliding a glass across the table, "sorry for the wait."

        "Yeah, it's fine," I muttered, tuning back in to the conversation.

        "-n the way to the warehouse."

        "Hey guys," their voices got hushed, "-omeone is... keeps loo-... we sho-... then I... do you..."

        "-ot bad... keep it... okay? We can't... no feds..."

        "But th-..."

        "-e got this, okay?"

        "Well, I gotta take a piss," bellowed the man I followed here.

        "Don't fall in," one of then said, leaving a chorus of laughter to follow. This is my chance at a personal investigation, I thought. He walked in the bathroom taking a bowie knife off the wall, which I didn't notice at the time. I promptly followed. As soon as I opened the door, I was met by a fist to the face.

        I blacked out.