A kidnapping that could only happen in NYC |
“This is the Patty Hearst situation all over again.” I lamented to my partner, John. He rolled his eyes as he poured another cup of stale coffee the precinct provided us. “This woman is going to be found and blame everyone else but the people who kidnapped her.” “I highly doubt that. The kidnappers made a ransom request and offered to send her tongue. They’re probably regretting taking her.” A commotion at the front desk drew our attention. A man, who appeared to have never met a shower was screaming at the desk jockey. John and I inched forward to try and hear what he was saying. “I saw her! That Lindsay Lincoln chick. She was out there, walking. Walking with George Washington. They were laughing about faking the kidnapping. You have to stop her. Make her pay for pretending to be kidnapped.” John listened intently, he wanted this to be true. The Lindsay Lincoln case was one that had been assigned to us when her family had refused to get the FBI involved, they decided that the NYPD was good enough to find their missing daughter. It struck John as odd that this family with enough money to hire God to find the scion left it to the local police to find her. For me, I thought it was a testament to our ability. “Maybe we should take him back and hear what he has to say,” John whispered to me. After I shot a quizzical expression his way, he shrugged his shoulders. “What have we got to lose?” “Time. We should be following real leads.” “Maybe this is a real lead.” “You think that she was walking with the Father of our Country, a man who has been dead for longer than any of us have been alive?” “Maybe not but he can maybe lead us in the right direction.” “You talk to him, I’m gonna hit the street. Find me when you’re done.” I left the station and tried to think of where a kidnapped heiress would be taken in Manhattan. Maybe they would take her to Brooklyn, no one would think to look there. No one wanted to admit they were from Brooklyn, let alone went there voluntarily. As I drove, I noticed that a car was following me. After making several unnecessary turns, and they stayed behind me. My heart was racing. The car sped up and stayed on my tail, our bumpers kissed but nothing more. If I slammed on the brakes, the other driver would be in the backseat of my squad car. After tapping the gas, something caught my eye. Not something, someone. Lindsay Lincoln. My foot pressed on the brake as hard as it could, and the car came to a stop. Unfortunately, the other vehicle didn’t stop in time and sent the squad car flying about 10 feet. The driver got out and ran, but Lindsay stood still. Her eyes widened. After calling in the accident, so that another car would come, I got out and ran over to Lindsay. “People are looking for you. How did you escape the kidnappers?” She shook her head, confused. “What are you talking about? I was never kidnapped.” Before I could ask her more questions, John and another car showed up. His eyes were drawn to the girl beside me. “Did you see Mr. Washington with her?” “Who’s Mr. Washington? I was just taking a walk after watching my favorite cartoon, Snow White and The Seven Dwarves. People keep looking at me like I’m poor. That’s insulting.” “We need you to come down to the station and answer some questions for us.” Lindsay looked at my partner as if he were crazy, but said nothing. John and Lindsay took off for the station, while I answered questions about the accident and how the driver ran off. The other officer drove me back to the station, while her partner waited for the tow trucks to arrive. John was waiting for me in the office. “Look at this.” He thrust a paper in my face, it was a copy of a ransom note that the kidnappers sent, along with a picture of Lindsay with the day’s paper. “What do you make of it?” “We weren’t talking to the real Lindsay Lincoln?” “It gets more twisted,” John continued as I stared at the picture of the kidnapped girl. Something about the space looked vaguely familiar. “The girl that I brought in has Lindsay’s ID, and says that it was a clone that was kidnapped.” “I know where she is! Let’s head out there and find out what’s really happening.” John looked at me confused but grabbed his jacket. We drove over to the Upper East Side and found the building where I thought they were hiding the girl. Gingerly, I touched the front door knob and smelled smoke. I turned to ask John what he thought, but he was already running from the building and calling for backup. Gunshots rang out. I threw myself behind a car and grabbed my weapon. The shots were coming from down the block. I peeked over at John, who was holding his shoulder. He was hit. One of the gunmen came into range, so I fired off a shot. Direct hit, he went down. The Lindsay who had been kidnapped was thrust forward by another gunman. “Come on out copper. Or else I’ll be forced to kill the rich girl.” John shook his head at me, as he stood up and aimed his gun. One shot fired off before the kidnapper returned fire. It hit John in the chest, silently I prayed he wore his bulletproof vest. I stood up and was shocked to see the kidnapper in a George Washington mask. Another shot rang out, and the Lindsay Lincoln I met was revealed as the kidnapped fell to the ground. “I told you guys I wasn’t poor. I have a clone.” Definitely not another Patty Hearst case. |