02/25/2014 Writing Practice
Her leg's feel heavy as she climbs the stairs to her apartment. Juggling a back-pack, brief case and a box of her own collected evidence she manages to get the keys out of her pocket and place them in the door. That's odd... I was sure I locked this when I left today. I must need to sleep more than I thought.
Christine pushes the door open, sets the box on the coffee table. Slinging her brief case and back pack down on the couch she collapses next to them.
Reviewing the day in her mind she retraces her steps.
She arrived at the crime scene and her SO had been giving her a hard time for being around at all. The case is personal, you shouldn't be here. But no one grudged her for wanting to be involved. But there was something the SAC said that bothered her. Or... it was he didn't say. He seemed to be holding back on her.
"How's the investigation going?" she'd asked.
He had the faintest bit of pause when he saw her approach. Then when he answered her his face twitched involuntarily, the same way it usually did when he was trying to bluff her at poker.That was before he became too good for that because the Special Agent in Charge. "We've got our best people working on it. Why don't you go home and get some rest. It's been a tough week for you."
She nodded and faked a faint smile, she'd go home. She'd just take the long way home, right through the middle of the investigation unit to glance at their findings "on the way to her office", she'd told someone who asked.
On the way home she stopped by the crime scene again. Yellow tape was gone, people were going about their business as usual. They had no idea that her best friend and lover had been taken from this very spot. That her life had been crashed to a halt in one moment.
She went over every moment of the traffic cam footage in her mind. Retraced every step the investigators took to collect the evidence. Something wasn't right. That was three weeks ago. Tire marks on the street where they'd taken off too quickly and spun the tires. She retraced the grass, the sidewalk, the gutter. Clean. Well actually it was disgusting, full of hastily discarded chewing gum and other nastiness, but it was clean of evidence. Wait...
There's a glimmer of something coming out of the drain. Drain! Yes! They missed the drain! She took out her flash light and peered down into the mess. There was a ring down there. She pulled it out using some floss, paper clip, and a letherman she always kept handy.
Now she's back at home. She uses the rest of her will to force herself off the couch. Her legs ache. The world spins for a moment; she looses her balance. She regains. I've got to get more sleep. She reaches the kitchen and takes a cup from the shelf. Fills it with ice water from the refrigerator. Then something gave her pause.
She turned around and noticed a glass on the counter in the drying rack. She'd done dishes this morning and left the kitchen spotless... hadn't she? Christine put her glass down and pulled her Beretta from the holster instead.
Turning around and taking the hallway first she cleared each room. Then she noticed the guest room door was slightly ajar. They hadn't used the guest room since they'd moved in. In fact he'd insisted on keeping the door closed and vents closed to save on electricity.
"No need to warm or cool a space we're not using. That's just a waste of money." he'd said.
She pushed it slightly with her foot. The door moved quietly back against the wall. Everything looked right. Nothing out of place. Bed made. Once she'd cleared the whole house she sat back down on the couch, replacing her side arm with the glass of ice water again.
You're losing it Christine. You forgot you used a glass and forgot to lock the door. That's all. Nothing else. Maybe you do need some more sleep.
With that the pushed her stuff onto the floor, wrapped herself in the light blanket they kept on the back of the couch for just such a nap and fell asleep.
He hadn't expected her home so soon. He didn't have time to put that glass away. He didn't want to close the door all the way either because she'd hear it. Hiding in the hall he'd managed to get out without her seeing, closing the front door behind him as the noise from ice hitting her glass covered the soft sound of the front door latching closed.
That was close...
I'll have to be more careful. Mitchel would let her in soon. He'd tell her what was happening. But only after he'd figured out a plan. Something that would keep her safe. His own apartment was the perfect place to hide, because it's the last place they'd expect him to go. But it's not a long term solution...
FBI Research = Wikipedia
- Field Agents
- New Agent Trainee (until graduation from Quantico)
- Special Agent
- Senior Resident Agent (non-supervisory, in a Resident Agency (satellite office))
- Supervisory Senior Resident Agent (only applies in Resident Agency offices)
- Supervisory Special Agent
- Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge (ASAC)
- Special Agent-in-Charge (SAC)
- FBI Management
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