Career Sucide
He holds the phone against his ear for a few long seconds, the smirk completely vanishing from his face. He lets out a heavy, dragging sigh.
“Wait a damn minute, then.”
He shoves the phone into his pocket and pushes himself up from his chair. Tosses a few bills on the table. Grabbing his coat, he throws it over his shoulders as he steps through the front door, the roar of the downpour flooding in.
He doesn’t slow his pace, he makes his way through the rain across the empty parking lot, toward his car. A jet-black 1974 BMW E9 glints under the streetlights. He pulls the driver’s door open, slides inside, and slams it shut, cutting off the deafening roar of the rain.
Pushing his dripping hair back from his forehead, he pulls out his phone and presses it against his ear.
“Go on.”
A voice crackles through the speaker. “You still remember the missing Carter case?”
“You can’t be serious right now,” Adam mutters, resting his wrist against the steering wheel. “You want me to look for a fucking girl even the cops won’t touch? I’ve already looked into it. It’s a cold case with nothing but dead ends.”
“Adam, you need to start taking some damn cases, man,” the voice cuts him off, sharp and strained over the speaker. “Or our agency is fucking dead. You’re committing a career suicide if you don’t even want to try. All we do is track down cheating husbands for a quick buck. Useless, and you know that already.”
Adam remains silent with just the sound of water drops hitting the roof above him.
“And I wouldn’t have reached out to you if I didn’t have something new.” The voice continues, lowering slightly.
Adam raises his eyebrow, his grip tightens on the phone, “Go ahead.”
“There’s a rumor, someone found a phone and a few bloody clothes,” the voice crackling with static. “Somewhere near Old Mill Lake. They could be hers. Turns out runaway girls don’t usually leave their phone and blood behind. The client reached out to us directly, and they’re offering a solid payout.”
Adam lets out a long, heavy breath, resting his head against the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll look into it. Bring me everything you have on Sofia.”
“Sweet,” the voice crackles back, relief dripping from the word. “I’m signing the contract now. You’ll have everything on your desk by sunrise.”
And the line goes dead.
Adam drops the phone into the passenger seat. He twists the ignition, the vintage engine roars to life, and pulls out of the empty parking lot, melting through the dark, rain-soaked night.
Adam pulls onto the main road. His gaze stays fixed straight ahead, unblinking, but his mind is miles away, this case, feels similar for some reason.
The BMW holds a steady forty miles an hour across the slick, wet asphalt. As the road bends into a sharp turn, two massive eyes reflect in the headlights. A towering silhouette steps straight into his lane.
“Jesus!” Adam swears.
He slams his foot onto the brake pedal. The tires screech against the wet road, bringing the car to a sudden halt just feet away.
His heart hammers against his ribs as he takes a few long, ragged breaths. Standing dead-center in the glare is a massive moose, staring back at him through the rain.
It isn’t uncommon to run into wildlife, especially at an hour like this.
He just sits there in the idling car, letting the motor rumble under the hood. Glancing down at his wrist, the dull glowing hands of his watch read 12:21 AM.
He looks back up at the moose, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “When are you going home, Big guy? Don’t have a wife waiting on you?” He mutters to himself.
For a few more minutes, neither of them moves. Then, it slowly wanders off into the treeline. Adam steps on the gas, leaving the shadow of the woods behind.