“Who’s in charge here?” The man questioned, taking off his sunglasses as he walks to the man in a uniform.
“Me, sir. Roy Smith.” The younger man voiced, looking at him trying to figure out who he was.
“Fitz. Anderson Fitz. FBI.” He says, holding his hand out as a gesture for Roy to take it.
“FBI?” Roy asks curiously, “Why is the FBI interested in this case? What’s so special about this girl?”
“It’s not the girl we’re interested in. It’s her love.”
“Has the FBI not got better things to do than interfere with a teenage girl and her boyfriend?” Roy asks, scoffing.
“Just hope that we find her attacker before her little boyfriend does.” Anderson says, wiping his sunglasses off with his shirt.
“Because if we don’t find them before he does,” Anderson says, cocking his head for Roy to look into the window,
“Let’s just say that the government will have to evacuate the whole area and find somewhere else to live.”
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