"f**k!! f**k!!! f**k!!!"
Detective Cindy screamed in frustration, kicking the tyres of the car angrily.
It was the worst night of her entire life.
The rain poured heavily. Her hair and clothes dripped wet.
As if freezing from the wet clothes was not enough, her arm was bleeding badly from the gunshot. She was in unbearable pain. There was no way she could drive with a bleeding right arm. Not that she could even use her car now that the tyres were completely damaged.
The f*****g creep had just driven away fast. She had tried to get a glimpse of the car's number plate but was shocked to discover that it didn't have one.
What kind of a car doesn't have a f*****g number plate?
A criminal's car.
All sorts of questions roamed around her head endlessly.
Rhetorical questions. Que
