Follow the Leader

Part 2

by Ann (redwaller at

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 any trouble.

"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 stare.

"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!

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