The Crime System

Just Do What I Say

Luke dusted his hands off, still holding the jagged remnants of the broken cue stick. The billiards hall smelled of stale beer and frustration. Aaron Dawson was glaring at him like he'd just burned down his house instead of snapping a few sticks of wood.

"You're a madman, Luke Sullivan!" he spat, brushing off his clothes.

"Madman?!" Luke stepped closer, cue raised, his voice laced with a challenge. "You haven't seen me yet, buddy. Now, check on that person for me, or I swear I'll—"

"Fine! Fine! I'll check!" Aaron Dawson raised his hands in surrender, his voice laced with exasperation. "It's just a search; do you have to go this far?"

"You tell me," Luke shot back. "A simple request, and yet here we are!"

Aaron sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. Let's go."

But Luke wasn't done yet. He gestured to the scattered, broken cues and balls on the table. "Not so fast. You think this is free? Four cues, fifty bucks apiece. Seven balls, twenty bucks each. You owe me three-forty in damages."

"Are you serious right now?" Aaron Dawson's eyes bulged.

"Dead serious." Luke raised an eyebrow and tapped the cue stick in his hand for emphasis. "Unless you'd like to keep playing."

Before Aaron could argue, the younger officer with him fumbled out his wallet, eager to avoid more drama. "Here, five hundred bucks. Keep the change!"

Luke took the cash, smirked, and threw it at the billiards hall owner, who was just regaining consciousness on the floor. "Here. Buy yourself some candy or whatever and stay out of my way. Maybe next time, think twice before crossing someone like me!"

The owner, terrified, nodded frantically. "Yes, sir! Won't happen again!"

"Good," Luke muttered. Then, turning back to Aaron, he barked, "Move it!"

Back at the precinct, Aaron begrudgingly got to work. His specialty was finding people, and he didn't need Luke breathing down his neck, but Luke wasn't about to let him slack off. He pulled up a chair and watched Aaron's every move.

Aaron sighed loudly. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Luke didn't answer. Instead, he watched as Aaron bypassed traditional methods—no ID searches, no bank records. Instead, he accessed hospital databases to track medical records. Clever. People might change their names, but they couldn't change their health history.

Soon, Aaron had compiled a list of matches for the girl prodigy's family. "Here," he said, pointing to the screen. "Earliest record is fifteen years ago—Leroy Davis, the father, from Phoenicia. Admitted to the Hospital for heart disease. Matches the registry office ID number."

He clicked on another record. "And here's the latest—Hannah Davis, the mother. Admitted last June for oncology treatment. Same ID, though it's expired."

So they hadn't disappeared entirely. They'd been right here, in the city, the whole time. Luke's gut churned. Something didn't add up.

"Can you find a current address?" he asked urgently.

"Maybe. But if they provided a false one, that's on them." Aaron worked quickly, and within moments, he found an address.

Luke leaned in, his eyes scanning the screen. His stomach dropped as goosebumps pricked his skin. He typed the address into the map and froze.

"Luke, what's going on?" Aaron asked, his tone concerned.

"No time to explain," Luke snapped. "Send me all this info. Every word. Now!"

Without waiting for Aaron's response, Luke bolted out the door, phone in hand. Adrenaline surged as he jumped into the squad car and sped off toward the address. His hands gripped the wheel tightly, and his mind raced.

He didn't have the full picture yet, but this address—it was too coincidental, too perfect. He could feel it in his gut.

"This time," he muttered under his breath, "I can't be wrong again."