Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I don’t even notice it at first when I get back to my apartment after a long day of working on multiple case profiles at once. I’ve been spending so much time with my obsession over Nico that I’ve barely been keeping up with the rest of my work. When I sit down at my desk inside my home office, nothing seems to be out of place. But when I glance up at my evidentiary board hanging on the wall, I see it.
There, right in the middle of the web of notes and articles and photographs, is something that I didn’t put there. I stand up and walk toward it, seeing before I even reach for the white envelope that it has my name on the front. When I open it, there’s a GPS location and a military time. I guess this answers the “when and where”. Now, all I need to do is decide whether I’m going to go.
The GPS pulls up a very remote location in the desert outside the city. I’ve never been out there myself, but from what I can see based on the online maps, there doesn’t appear to be very many actual structures out there. So, unless it’s something that Nico has kept off-grid for a while, or something that totally blends in with the surroundings, I’m not entirely sure what I’m walking into if I decide to go.
I look at the envelope again. I’m not the best at military time, but I’m pretty sure it lines up with tomorrow at sunset. That means that I could find myself out there in the desert after dark without anyone knowing where I am if something happens. I suppose I could tell someone, but if I did, I’m sure Nico would find out about it somehow, and then he might call this off. Even if it is some sort of trap that I’m walking into, it’s the closest that I’ve gotten to actually being able to meet with him. Not counting the few minutes that he pulled me off the street the other day.
I get up and pace around my apartment for a few laps as I deliberate what to do. But even though it takes me several minutes to talk myself out of going, I already knew from the moment that I got the third clue that I’d accept this chance.
If I were listening to my professional profiling insight, then I would know better than to do something this reckless. After all, this man is a notorious, infamous assassin. The Ghost is a killer.. I know it’s dangerous, but I don’t give a damn. I need answers.
I can hardly wait until the following evening as I watch the hours tick down. It’s like waiting for Christmas morning, except instead of presents under the tree, I’m hoping to get answers.
I drive out of the city and deep into the desert until the city looks like a tiny miniature model in my rearview mirror. When I think that I’m getting close to the coordinates, I see something up ahead—a small, dull, sand-colored building that does indeed blend in out here. It looks like the perfect safe house for an assassin who doesn’t want to be found. No one would have reason to venture out this far away from things to begin with. And even if they did, they’d likely either not see or not care about a house like this. He really does have a knack for staying invisible.
I park the car and walk up to knock on the front door, but when I do, there’s no answer. After knocking a few more times, this time even louder, there’s still no answer. I’m positive that I’ve gotten both the coordinates and the time correct. I walk around the house to see if maybe he’s outside, but there’s nothing here besides the house itself, not even a car. It looks like no one is even home.
The inside of the house is dim as I press my face against the front window to look inside. There aren’t any interior lights on. Perhaps something happened that held him up. Seeing as though I came out all this way, and that he isn’t even here, I guess that makes this a prime opportunity for me to do some snooping around.
Luckily, I always keep a crowbar in the glove compartment of my car. It’s one of the few useful skills I learned from my dad. Honestly, they come in handy in more ways than you’d expect. After grabbing it and returning to the house, I go around to the back and find a window to pry open. I’m sure this isn’t exactly legal, but then again, I don’t think either Nico or I are playing by the rules.
Once I get the window open and crawl through, I step inside and find myself standing in the middle of a dark, modern-looking kitchen. Funny, it looks a lot less humble on the inside. Even with little light, I can make out the sleek appliances and the small blinking of a security camera in the ceiling’s corner.