Fruits Of Labor

Date: August 12, 2022

Prompt #12 of @JonicaBradley : Fruits Of Labor

FRUITS OF LABOR.

Greg grunted and cussed loudly as he pressed hard on his brake. He rolled down his window, "Dammit! You wanna die man? Do it alone! Asshole!" he shouted to the car that almost hit him. Then he shook his head driving off. He wasn't in the mood that morning, he was supposed to be in his house eating chicken wings and drinking beer while watching a ball game with his wife. But three minutes after the oven's alarm went off, his boss called.

The upper-ups in the bureau don't understand the basic concept of rest. They consider their people as robots that they could beck and call whenever they want. At least that was how Greg saw it. It was his first time off after a year of joining the team. Finally, he could hear the end of his wife's tirade about not having enough time for her.

He and his wife were looking forward to this week-long holiday. They were married for three years and they didn't get to have a honeymoon due to Greg's schedule at the academy. And right after college the time they were hoping for just didn't materialize. Now they have given a chance and it when into smoke.

Greg wouldn't be surprised if his wife file for divorce in the upcoming years. He promised her to turn off his phone and he would have if not only for the flashing numbers on the screen. The general wouldn't be calling him if it was something trivial.

He sighed heavily before pushing the heavy glass door of their office. "Captain, where is he?" he asked as soon as he saw the man walking towards him.

"Inside. But he will only talk to you."

Greg nodded and followed behind the man. "I will get him. I promised that." Greg's eyes glistened with hope. "We have worked so hard for this case. We will get the victim's vengeance. We will get the killer sir."

"Do it, Greg. I trust you kid." The man patted Greg on the back and then he let him inside the interrogation room.

"Hello--"

"Gregory Marshall Jr.," butted the man shackled in a chair across him. "Good to see you, Detective. How's your wife these days?"

Greg sat down unfazed by the man's banter. "Let's not go astray to the topic of our meeting. You want to meet me?" he asked folding his hands over the table then he nodded to the guard on his side to start the recording.

The man laughed, "You are too stiff Greg. This wasn't the man I met on the field."

He was clearly playing with Greg's mind. It was six months ago when he met the man; a police who pushed himself in Greg's case. Unknowingly, he was the culprit all along. It took Greg half a year to figure it out and he was blaming himself for every murder that had been committed since then. Thus, he promised to put justice over his killings. He wouldn't let the man walk away free.

"Let's cut to the chase, give me the coordinates of the bodies and we will talk about other things."

The man nodded taunting, "Eighty-Four, Daffodil Street--"

"What are you getting into?" Greg was tensing.

"Why? Isn't that your address Greg? Why would you leave your wife alone these days?"

Greg's eyes grew wide, he launched at the man aiming for a hit, "Don't you dare lay a finger on my wife."

A wide smile slowly spread on the man's face, "It's after all the prize of your hard work."

"No!" screamed Greg.