The wrong man
1082 Words
MARIA CASTILLO
The wrong man?!
"Who are you, and what do you know?" I typed the message quickly, my fingers tense against the screen.
The response came almost immediately.
“Meet me at 1627 Smithfield Street. You have just one hour. Come alone. Unarmed, if you want the truth,” came the response.
I narrowed my eyes at the message. Unarmed? Not happening.
I got up from my desk and walked straight to the Cyber Intelligence Unit. If there was one thing I trusted, it was tech.
"I need a trace on this number," I said, dropping my phone in front of them.
One of the analysts, Davis, took it and started working. His fingers moved fast across the keyboard, his face set in concentration. I tapped my fingers against the desk impatiently.
Seconds passed…then a minute.
Finally, Davis let out a frustrated sigh. "It's untraceable."
I frowned. "What do you mean, untraceable?"
"The number is bouncing off multiple relays. Whoever sent this knows how to cover their tracks. It's like trying to track a ghost."
I clenched my jaw.
"What’s this about?" another analyst, Kim, asked.
"Never mind," I muttered, grabbing my phone and walking out.
If I wanted answers, I had no choice but to go. But I wasn't going in blind.
I slid into my car, checked my gun, and tucked it into my holster beneath my jacket. If this was a trap, I’d be ready.
The drive to 1627 Smithfield Street was quiet, the streets nearly deserted. The location was on the outskirts of the city, an area mostly abandoned except for a few empty warehouses and a couple of shady businesses. The perfect place for an ambush.
I pulled up to the address and turned off the engine. The place was dead silent. No movement, no lights. Just the cold night air and an eerie feeling creeping down my spine.
I stepped out cautiously, scanning my surroundings. The warehouse in front of me looked abandoned, its walls covered in graffiti, windows broken.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: “Turn around.”
I stiffened. Slowly, I turned.
Nothing. Just shadows.
I exhaled sharply, my fingers hovering over my gun. My phone buzzed again.
“If you're not afraid of me, show your face,” I texted him.
A voice rang out. Sharp. Accusing.
"I told you to come unarmed, but you disobeyed me."
Before I could react, a gunshot cracked through the air.
My instinct kicked in. I dove to the side, rolling behind the hood of my car as another bullet shattered the windshield.
Damn it.
I pulled my gun and fired back, but the shooter was already moving. His footsteps echoed against the concrete, darting between shadows.
"You don’t want the truth, do you, Maria?" the voice taunted. "You just want an arrest."
More shots rang out. I barely managed to duck behind an old dumpster as bullets ricochetted off metal.
I needed to move… and fast.
I fired a few more rounds, enough to keep him busy, then dashed to my car, jumped in, and gunned the engine.
The tires screeched as I sped away.
I burst into the CID Headquarters minutes later, my adrenaline still high.
"Emergency meeting. Now." My voice cut through the noise of the office.
Detectives Andrews, Ryan, Perez, Kane, and a few others gathered in the conference room within minutes.
I wasted no time.
"I was ambushed a few minutes ago," I said, dropping my phone on the table. "Someone tipped me off about Lorenzo's location, but it was a setup. The guy knew what he was doing. He told me to come unarmed. I didn’t. He tried to kill me."
Kane let out a low whistle. "You think it was Lorenzo?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. This guy was sharp, professional. He wasn’t some low-level thug."
Ryan crossed his arms. "So, Lorenzo has backup?"
"That’s what I’m thinking," I said. "He’s not working alone. There’s more to this case than we thought."
Silence settled over the room as that reality sank in.
"So what’s the plan?" Andrews asked.
I leaned forward. "We find him. Now. We have 24 hours left before the Director pulls this case from us."
"Where do we start?" Perez asked.
I took a deep breath. "We hit every lead we have. Hard."
After hours of chasing dead ends, we finally got something—a tip-off about a safe house Lorenzo was using. A warehouse near the docks.
It was time to move.
We rolled up to the location just before dawn, armed and ready. My heart pounded as I stepped out of the car, my gun drawn.
We surrounded the warehouse, moving in silently. Then—
A crash from inside.
"Go, go, go!" I shouted.
We stormed in.
Lorenzo was already running.
I sprinted after him, weaving through stacks of crates and old machinery. He bolted toward the back exit, but I was faster.
"Stop!" I shouted.
He ignored me.
I fired a warning shot. "I said stop!"
He skidded to a halt. Slowly, he raised his hands. But when he turned, his eyes were sharp, defiant.
"You’re making a mistake," he said.
"Turn around. Hands behind your head," I ordered.
He didn’t move. "I didn’t kill Damian."
"Tell it to the judge," I snapped, pulling out the cuffs.
"You’re being played," he muttered as I locked the cuffs around his wrists. "The real killer is out there. And they’re laughing at you right now."
I shoved him forward. "Move."
At the Maximum-Security Prison, I sat across from him in the interrogation room.
He looked calm… almost too calm to be a murderer.
"You know what’s funny?" he said, smirking. "You think this is over."
I leaned forward. "It is."
"You think you got me, that I’m the bad guy?."
"You killed a man, Lorenzo."
His jaw tightened. "Did I?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You want to tell me something?"
He exhaled. "Damian was killed because he knew too much. And now, you do too."
I stilled. "What are you talking about?"
Before he could answer, my phone buzzed. It was the same strange number.
“You arrested the wrong man. Tick tock, Detective. I'll always be steps ahead of you.”
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Lorenzo. He looked lost.
The real killer was still out there.
And I had just put the wrong man behind bars.
“What is it?,” he asked, curious.
“Who are you?.”
- Writer
