Snatched…a new story…unedited…

The driver of the Orange Fury Ford Mustang sat across from the Fredericksburg Savings and Loan and pondered whether it was a greater sin to rob from the rich or to be born into poverty.

Tray Tan figured it didn’t matter. He had survived poverty and amassed a small fortune through his various endeavors. The sin he thought would be to fall into poverty after he worked so hard to escape it. 

He pressed the small button that caused the blue light to illuminate his watch face, it read 0050. It was time for him to meet the others. 

Bradley M. Freeman sat in the 24-hour diner and watched as the rain fell in thick sheets on the town of Fredericksburg. It rained here often. Some days it rained all day, as if God had turned on the spicket and forgot to turn it back off, and other days a quick shower would blow in, dump its water, and left as quickly as it arrived. 

It looked as if the spicket got left on to Bradley. 

“How’s my favorite jack-of-all-trades,” Denna asked as she balanced multiple trays on her right arm. Bradley looked up from his coffee and nodded his head. 

“I’ll do until something better comes along, Denna. Trying to wait out the rain.”

Deena filled up his coffee mug without asking. Like some other people Denna knew, Bradley was a coffee hound. 

“I see you’re a security guard tonight, or this morning. All that work you do is going to kill you one day.”

Bradley lifted his mug and gave Denna a lopsided grin, the scar underneath his left eye stretched taunt revealing the depth of it.

“We all die of something,” he said downing the coffee in one long gulp. He sat the mug on the counter and put a ten-dollar tip on the table. “Take care of yourself, Denna. I’ll catch you later.”

Then, he turned up his collar and walked out into the rain-drenched abyss known as Fredericksburg.

At 0730, Detective Sergeant Thermopolis Konan could hear the phone ringing in his living room. He didn’t care, he was amid his bathing routine. Whoever it is will call back if it’s important, he thought as the drew the razor down his cheek. The phone shut off, and a few ticks later began to ring again. It shut off again, and then rang again.

He sighed and walked into his living room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Konan picked up the phone and stared at the screen, in small words it informed him that Lilly Thompson had called eleven times.

Konan cleared his voice and pressed the call button. Lilly answered immediately.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“Because I am trying to get dressed? What’s so freaking important that you called here 11 times.”

“We’ve got a murder and it’s bad.”

“All murders are bad, Lilly. What makes this one worse than any others?”

“Get dressed and come see for yourself hotshot. I sent a squad car after you.”

Konan ended the call and finished getting dressed. He sat on the edge of his bed and listened to the rain as it pounded against the tin roof. “It sounds like someone putting the last nails in a coffin. I’m too old for this crap.”

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