(Authors note- This story has swearing, so if you are not comfortable reading

this kind of writing than please do not do so)

~

I press on the brakes of the taxi and slowly slide to a stop. I spot a man coming towards me and absentmindedly press the button that automatically opens the car door like I do every time and turn around, but I don’t realize the panicked expression on his face until I feel a calloused hand gripping my shoulder tightly.

“Please, hurry up!” He says in a urgent voice.

I turn around, trying to shake his hand off.

“Excuse me, sir?” I widen my eyes at him. What is he doing? Why does he look so scared? And what is he running from?

“I need you to get away from here as fast as you can and don’t pause at any red lights.”

His dark brown eyes stare intently into mine, pronouncing every word with urgency.

“But where do I-“ He finally loses patience and grabs the steering wheel and turns it with a hard jerk. The car lurches to the left of the road.

“What the fuck!” I can’t help but curse out loud.

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” I shove his hand off the steering wheel with all my might.

He finally lets go and breathes a sigh of relief as I start driving in a random direction.

Cars honk crazily at us, the drivers opening the windows and saying-uhm- some very unsavory language.

I ignore them and keep my eyes on the road in front of me. Not my fault I have a psychopath in my car.

“Thank you.” The man says after a few minutes of silence, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” I tell him.

“It’s…complicated.” He says in an unreadable tone.

I don’t answer but instead look in the rear view mirror to get a closer look at the man’s face. He has raven black hair and dark brown eyes that glint with rays of sunlight, and fair skin. The most interesting thing about his appearance though is a small scar which runs diagonally from his cheek up to his right eyelid.

I narrow my eyes briefly. The scar appears to be inflicted by a knife based off of how the skin is cut. The man must have gotten involved with some shady gangs. No wonder was so panicked. He probably did something to one of them.

“Ma’am?” The man says questioningly. I quickly snap out of the daze I was in and turn back around. I feel my face reddening. I hadn’t realized I was looking at him so long.

“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to distract him.

“Alexander. Alexander Thorn.” He says. “I work for the F.B.I.” He adds.

I almost chock on my spit.

“What?” I say, not sure if I heard him right.

“I work for the F.B.I.” He repeats calmly and takes out his wallet to show an ID. He’s right. The ID shows a picture of him and below it has a caption that says, “Chief Investigator”.

I don’t know wether to laugh or cry. It seems so silly but somehow I don’t think he’s lying.

“You’re a chief investigator?” I ask.

“Yes.” He says with a nod.

“Okay.” I respond, still not believing him totally.

“By the way, where should I let you off at?” I ask him. I’d been driving around the city randomly for 30 minutes, which I think was enough time to shake off anyone on him. Of course, if anyone was really on him.

“Drive a bit more to that bookstore at the end of the street, then you can let me off.” He says.

Once I reach where he asked, the car slowly slid to a stop but he didn’t get out.

“What is it?” I ask, not sure why he was hesitant to get out.

He stares at me for a while before answering.

“I know your brother.” He says, looking closely for a reaction.

And he does get one. All the breath is knocked out of me by those words, and I grip the steering wheel tightly.

“How.” I ask, breathing deeply. “How.” I repeat again.

My brother died four years ago from drowning, and his body was never found. But he had never reappeared so the police wrote him off as deceased. Though I had agreed with them and not spoken a word of doubt, I still held a faint shimmer of hope in the back of my mind for all these years. And now someone was confirming that this hope was not foolish, but actually justified.

“I was a friend of his in college, and when I heard he drowned I didn’t believe it for a second. He used to be head of the swim team and won so many competitions that I even thought he’d go to the Olympics one day. So when someone anonymously contacted me through my social media accounts and said they were him, I knew it was true.” He responds.

“Where is he. Please, take me to him. I’m begging you.” I say. If I hadn’t trusted this man before, I do now. Everything he said about my brother matched up. He was head of the swim team, won many competitions, and did have a friend named Alexander in college that I had never met before but he had mentioned to me.

“I can. But…I need to ask this first. Do you fully trust me? He asks, a solemn expression on his face.

I look at him, and study his eyes. They stare at me unflinchingly like steel, daring me to say no.

“Yes.” I reply. “I’m ready.” I say, staring at him confidently.

The expression is still on his face, but I can see the corners of his mouth turn upwards very slightly.

“What are you waiting for then?” He asks, and offers his hand to me.

I take it, smiling.