"Madison, faster!" Coach Lyle yelled, causing me to pick up my speed. I rolled my eyes as I caught up with a girl in front of me and easily passed her. This was only my second lap and I was already exhausted. I was so out of shape from not playing last year.
When I finished the four laps coach insisted on us doing, I collapsed down into the grass, feeling the sun blazing down on me.
"I didn't think you were playing this year?" I looked up and squinted my eyes at the figure coming towards me. Finally I realized it was Kat.
I smiled, sitting up and crossing my legs just as she sat down beside me. "Yeah, I needed to get back into shape you know?" I laughed, picking at the grass that was on my shoes.
Kat Lyle was Coach Lyle's daughter, and we both played volleyball for him.
She shook her head, letting her hair fall loose down her back.
"Not running?" I asked, taking a drink of water.
"Doctor said it would be two more weeks before I could start conditioning. Just until I finish physical therapy."
"Lucky, first day of summer and we already have conditioning."
She shrugged, fanning herself and looking away, before looking back at me, placing her hand on my knee. "How have you been?"
"It's been…hard." Ever since my mom died, my uncle hadn't been the same. He'd shut down. He sometimes locked himself in his room for days and days.
I knew he had a drinking problem. He knew he had a drinking problem, he was just too afraid to admit it. He tried to stop once a few months ago; It didn't last long. It took away his problems, but it also caused more.
"Madison, your uncle is right outside the gate, he says he needs you. To leave, actually. You may go." I looked up as Coach Lyle walked up to me, stuffing his phone back in his shorts pocket.
I looked over and Kat and shook my head. "I don't know what this is for."
I got up, jogging over to the fence and letting myself out, closing it behind me. "Madison, they want us down at the police station."
Slinging my gym bag over my shoulder, I climbed into the back of the SUV.
"Why do they need us down at the police station?"
He shook his head, driving out of the parking lot and onto the road. "I..don't know."
I knew he was hiding something. I was actually surprised to see him dressed and out of the apartment. His eyes flicked back and forth from the rearview mirror back to the side mirrors over and over.
The police station was a good fifteen minutes away, so I pulled out my headphones and stuck them in my ear, pulling up Pandora.
All of a sudden, I felt several pinches in my cheek, feeling like needles. It only lasted half a second, but the shot felt like forever. Someone had shot through the back window, missing my head by smaller than an inch.
I screamed, covering my head with my arms and slid down into the floor on top of all the glass.
"Ryan!" More shots fired as he hit the acceleration, throwing me back against the seat, digging into my stomach.
"Madison, Madison are you okay?" I felt his hands clutch at my arms, pulling them off my head. My cheek stung pretty terribly.
I grabbed at him, being pulled out of the car and arms wrapped around me. I slowly moved my hand up to my cheek and felt blood.
What the fuck just happened.
"Are you okay?" My eyes fluttered open, looking up at Mike Weston.
"Um, yeah I guess so.." I sat up in the bed. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan was a retired FBI agent. Him and Mike had worked together on a few cases before, but he had an injury where he had to get a pacemaker to keep his heart going. Since then, he had to quit being an agent. I didn't know Mike that well, I had only met him a few times as I went to visit Ryan with my mom, he was sometimes there.
He simply picked up the remote, turning on the tv in the room of the hospital. The news channel popped up, with the headline, "Two women mudered in attack on city bus".
"What does this have to do.." He shushed me, motioning towards the tv.
It showed two women who had been sliced all over their bodies, with a deep gash above their right shoulder and a cut across their neck.
The exact same way my mother had died.
He turned off the tv and sat the remote back down and leaned back against the wall. "It's the exact same way your mother was killed."
Nothing was making sense. "Why did they try to kill us yesterday?"
"You, actually." He responded.
"Thanks, asshole." I rolled my eyes, pushing my hair behind my ears.
He shrugged, frowning. "No I didn't mean it like that."
Laughing, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, slapping my hands on my thighs. "I know."
He smiled, sitting down in the chair just as Ryan walked in. "They said we're both good to go. How are you feeling?"
"It's just a little scratch, I didn't think it was worth going to the hospital for."
He looked over at Mike. "Did you show her?"
Mike nodded, looking back over at me and then to Ryan. "I don't get it, could this be one of Joe's followers?"
Ryan shook his head. "It just..."
"It's not one of Joe's followers." I spoke up, causing them both to look at me. "They never got the person who killed my mom on video or audio and they didn't get the bus murders. Joe always wanted his murders public right? Whoever is doing this is wanting us to think its something to do with Joe, considering they are killing them the same way."
"She's right, actually. Joe would want this to be broadcasted, and his followers know that. We haven't heard from them in years." Thank you uncle Ryan.
"If you were a few years older you'd be perfect for the FBI." Mike said, standing up from his chair.
"I want to be a writer."
"A FBI, writer person maybe?"
"You're funny Michael Weston."
Funny.