Detective Jeffery remembered his academy days, how he skipped running classes for other training exercises. At six-foot-four with heavy bones, sprinting had always felt like punishment.
As he raced up the driveway toward the mayor's house, he wished he could fly. Or better yet, appear right inside the private study where the mayor was.
He turned into the hallway at full speed, and… oomph! collided with a figure in black cloak and hoodie.
They crashed to the marble floor in a tangle of limbs. Unbothered by the jolt of pain as their heads knocked together, Jeffrey scrambled and threw his weight onto the figure to pin them down.
A heavy blow slammed into his chest knocking the breath from him yet he tightened his grip around the figure's neck and squeezed.
He heard heavy footsteps as members of the Crime Investigation Unit ran into the house and down the hallway.
“Sarge!” Carson dropped to his knees beside him, shaking his shoulders. “He's unconscious, sir. The deputy mayor… is unconscious.”
Jeffrey froze, his gaze darting between the unconscious Wolfe Hartmann and Carson. Then he slowly eased off the deputy mayor and stared at his hands as if trying to understand how it all happened. He cleared his throat and stood upright.
“How did this bastard get out of his house?” He demanded as one of the officers cuffed Wolfe.
“We found his ankle monitor on a mannequin in his study,” one of the officers replied, his brows drawn tight with anger. “Disabled, sir.”
“Also, the mayor is alive but in the ICU. The hospital will update us after his surgery,” Carson added, his worried gaze fixed on his boss.
Jeffrey visibly sighed and nodded. “Good. Good. The box? Have you searched this place?”
Carson grimaced. “Sorry, Sarge. We can't find the evidence yet. The box is not in the study.”
“What do you mean? We heard their phone conversation—”
“I know,” Carson cut in. “I suspect the mayor hid it somewhere Mr Hartmann couldn't reach. Let's hope he survives the surgery to tell us where the box is.”
Jeffrey watched quietly as his team got busy tidying the scene. As they carried Wolfe Hartmann to the patrol car, a knot tightened in his chest.
He must get his hands on that box. Whatever was inside…he didn't want anyone else to die because of it.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece which is a chapter in a thriller series. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "can’t find the evidence". You can follow the attached links to keep up with the story.
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Image credit: Pixabay