With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Inescapable

The photo frame was made out of iron with intricate swirls and slim aluminum edges. The photo inside was of two barefoot men in suits with huge smiles on their faces as they jumped, the scenic background of the famous California beaches behind them. The man holding the photo frame smiled—grinned, really—before carefully putting it on the desk, angling it towards the man.

Greg smiled, fondly looking at the picture they had asked someone to take of him and Joshua. Humming under his breath, Greg turned the laptop on, not bothering to turn on the printer beside it.

He was in a good mood.

The sun was shining brightly over the beautiful California sky, the birds were chirping, and he could actually hear them chirping, instead of the normal noises made by traffic.

Life was good.

It may not be good the next day, or the day after that, but Greg wasn’t delusional. He knew that it was better for him to just accept what he got and take the blessed morning with gratitude. It had been years, really, since he had his last day off the office, and he was going to be grateful he even managed to have one despite planning to spend it trying to know just who exactly Eena’s killer was.

Whistling cheerfully—or as cheerful as one could be at eight in the morning—Greg walked to his kitchen barefooted, making himself a cup of coffee as he thought about the date he and Joshua had scheduled that night. A smile made its way on his face, and Greg absently thought that he shouldn’t be smiling so much.

He probably looked like a man high on drugs with the way he just seemed to grin out of the blue.

With a cup of deliciously warm coffee in one hand and a plate of toast on the other, Greg made his way to his office.

A sudden noise made itself known just as Greg was stepping through the threshold, and Greg abruptly stopped, his coffee sloshing dangerously near the edge of the cup.

A moment passed in silence, and Greg waited with bated breath, his senses alert to any possible disturbance.

The printer started eating paper, and within seconds, two newly-printed pictures were lying face up. Greg shook himself to alertness, hurriedly walked towards the pictures, and stared, barely registering the sound of ceramic breaking and the hot sensation of coffee making its way to his bare feet. Instead, his eyes were focused on the two pages.

The first page was a picture of the crime scene—Eena’s crime scene—in Singapore. Greg closed his eyes and turned the picture as to not see the vivid red against the dull gray concrete, getting the other page.

The second page was a picture obviously taken from a security camera. It was a picture of Reini about to enter some convenience or grocery store.

Greg felt his jaw drop.

A whirring sound directed his eyes to his printer, where another piece of paper was currently making its way through the ink cartridges.

Eighteen words were printed in black ink.

You weren’t able to save Senior Agent Eena Acker. What about Senior Agent Reini Saunders?

Play the game.

Greg turned around, his eyes wide and unseeing as he tried to figure out if there was a hidden camera in the room. After a few seconds of looking around, Greg took a deep breath.

With shaking hands, Greg got his phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

“Chase.”