Follow the Leader
by Ann (redwaller at msn.com)
Lestrade walked into the usually calm environment of the
Metropolitan Police Headquarters, only to be almost run over by a
short bald man who was too interested in his computer to watch where
he was going and then barely muttered an apology. Lestrade didn't
even have time to call him a jerk, because when she looked up her
breath was taken from her. It seemed as if all of New London wanted
to catch Tyler Lestrade. Officers were rushing to and fro with all
sorts of maps, charts, files, and disks. A few videophones were
ringing and Tyler's face could be seen almost everywhere.
Lestrade's mouth hung open a little as her mind raced. If
they find him, she thought, then the story will come out.
Half of her mind wanted him to be safely off the streets; the other
half wanted revenge....
"Lestrade! In my office, now!" barked a gruff voice. She
obediently followed him. Quite unlike her to go without a fight. As
she followed him she noticed two things:
1) Greyson was standing some distance away from her, on purpose
2) There were three men in official-looking suits sitting in
Greyson's office that Lestrade didn't know.
She walked in boldly, hoping that the message that she gave
them was "you wanna piece of me?!!?" but it was probably more like
"Holy fishsticks, Batman! I feel like a scared little bunny and I
wanna go home!" Once again, not like our Lestrade.
Greyson sat behind his desk, leaving Lestrade at first to
stand awkwardly beside the door until Greyson pointed to a chair.
(Lestrade would usually just plop right down, but this is the unusual
scared bunny Lestrade that I made up for my story.)
Greyson cleared his throat and looked at Lestrade guardedly, as
if he half expected her to jump up and kill everyone. "Inspector
Lestrade," he said softly, "I know this might be a touchy subject
for you, but do you know Tyler Lestrade?"
Lestrade felt her blood drain, "No. I do not, never have and
unless he is caught I probably never will. Now if you will excuse
me, I still have some weekend left until I am to be back here. And
you are wasting your time asking me. He is no relative of mine, and
if he was I would drag him out into the streets and shoot him, for
that is all that he deserves." Without saying anything else she got
up to leave, but one of the men in suits stood up first.
"Excuse me," he said in a clearly American accent, "but I
will need to ask you a few questions. My partner and I are with the
FBI, so it would be easier to just cooperate with us, so there isn't
"My name is Special Agent Rickard, and this is Special Agent
Cummings. The FBI feels that we must question any one that may have
come in contact with him, at any point of their lives. Now the only
connection that we can find with you is the last name. Are you sure
that you have no idea of his whereabouts?"
"I have never met a Tyler Lestrade, and I am not lying. Never
has there been one in my family either." She sent Greyson a burning
"Our files say you are 24 and come from the New York area.
Exactly how old that girl that he beat is now, same area too. How
sure are you?" questioned Agent Cummings, staring in her eyes as if
trying to read her soul,
Lestrade looked at Greyson and said, "If you do not believe
me I'm sorry, but what I tell you is the truth. I have never met
Tyler Lestrade; he has never been in my family. Now may I please go!"
Before any answer was given Lestrade bolted out the door,
knocking over the short bald man, and out the main door. She heard
rushed footsteps following her. She looked back to see the two
agents and Greyson.
"Well, they'll lose me at the intersection," she thought as
she blended with the front of the crowd waiting to cross the road.
Lestrade watched the signal, but a gloved hand wrenched her forward
into traffic , right into the path of a large hovercar. She froze;
fear crossed her face as the driver's menacing face bored into hers.
His mouth twisted into a grin.
On to Part 3!
Back to part 1
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