The Girl With No Name

Chapter Two

Two whole days had passed when I received a text from an unknown number, giving me the address of another hotel - different from the last one I'd visited - and a time.

Today, 10:00
Please make sure to be on time.

Staring at it through half-lidded eyes, I'd barely comprehended the message when I read it. I was still half asleep. He'd texted me at eight in the morning. By that point, I still had my head buried in the pillow, drool and all. Does he really expect me to be up and at it at that time? Ha. Unlikely.

When I finally came to and realised this message had been sent by my new detective boss-buddy, I all but scrambled out of bed, flinging clothes out of my wardrobe, searching for suitable getup. I'd be meeting new people today, meaning I'd have to pin myself up for yet another important first impression. I'll admit, first impressions were pretty trivial in the grand scheme of things, but I worried about what I looked like regardless. I'm only human. After a good few minutes of rummaging, I began to question why my fashion sense was so radical. God, I really needed to grow out of my teenage phase - and fast. There was no way I was walking into Kira headquarters wearing a low cut shirt and ripped shorts. No chance.

I tugged out a similar outfit to the one I'd worn to meet L, plonking them in a heap on the bed as I hauled ass to the bathroom, grabbing my phone in the exchange. Turning on the lights, my first instinct was to look in the mirror and assess the night's damage, and I cringed almost immediately.

Let's see... Blemished face. Dead fish eyes. Bedhead. Bird's Nest. Yeah. All in all, pretty shit.

Phone back in hand, I dialled Chris and switched it onto speaker phone. The man in question picked up after a few dial tones and began chortling almost instantly, mockingly. "Christ, you're up early. What happened? Armageddon?"

"No," I grumbled, angrily attacking my hair with a brush. "I'm meeting the task force today at ten."

Chris made a surprised sound. "Really? He messaged you?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago."

There was a brief pause. "What's his number?"

I guffawed, likely shocking my associate with the sound. "Oh yeah, like it'd be that easy, Chris! It's an unknown number," I told him, shaking my head. "I haven't tried to find out, but it's probably also untraceable. L's far from an idiot and I doubt he trusts me yet; he wouldn't just hand me his number on a silver platter. In fact, I wouldn't put it past him to have more than one phone number."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask!" Chris argued, voice adopting a more defensive tone. "I just wanted to know in case I ever have to call him up for you. Seriously, do you know how many contacts I went through to find this guy?"

"I'm sure you exercised the entire phonebook, Chris. I appreciate your efforts," I muttered distantly, smearing a layer of foundation across my face.

This response didn't seem to please my friend and he stubbornly kept his silence.

"What?" I asked, perturbed by his refusal to speak.

"I'm waiting..."

I audibly sighed but perked myself up, smiling to myself in the mirror as I swiped chapstick across my lips. "Thank you, sweetie! You're the best detective ever and I love you more than I love the Die Hard movies."

"Please, I already know I'm the best detective ever. You don't need to tell me that," he replied with a haughty scoff. "Anyways, you need a lift?"

I considered it for a moment, seeing as the new hotel was considerably further than the last one, but decided against it. I needed the exercise and Chris always chose to listen to crappy songs from the sixties; they irritated me. I didn't want to meet the task force with a huge scowl on my face. That expression didn't say 'friendly work associate'. That said 'angry hormonal teen with a motive to kill'. I didn't want to scar the poor fellas by showing them my true colours.