Who: Pete Wisdom When: Last Night Where: His rooms What: An Ending
Pete knew something was wrong the moment he unlocked the door.
He stepped in, and old instincts, old habits, snapped into place. The scent—
As he inhaled, he went pale, and then he was moving. His gun was out before he even thought about it as he moved from room to room. Places were searched, and a feeling of unease grew.
But as he came to a halt back in the front room, he knew.
She was gone.
He made the call less than five minutes later, and the agents, all from his department, arrived soon thereafter. He waited outside as they swept the place and the agent he had tasked with checking her out before stepped to his van to do so again. It was when the boy returned, a mask of puzzlement on his face, that Pete knew, absolutely knew, this was worse.
“Sir—“
“Yes, Peeves?”
“There’s no record of her.”
“None?”
“None, sir, and worse… all records from my previous search are missing, including the hard files. She’s--- it’s as if she stopped existing, sir.”
Pete exhaled, and closed his eyes for an instant, the mask still intact around his features. “Put the new details in a file and mark it G-class, then forward all record of this mission to me.”
“All, sir?”
“All.”
“Yes, sir.”
They were gone soon thereafter, and Pete walked back into his place, and closed the door. And then the mask slipped, as he sank to his knees. Bitter tears slipped out as he cried, sobbed, as he had not for years. He cried because he missed her, the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, and of her smile, and the feel of knowing they had a chance at a future, a real future together. He cried for possibilities, and for love, and for lust, and he cried in hope she would find something better out there. When he was done, he showered, for a long time, and then he left the apartment.
So, Gigi had taken her. So be it.
Pete Wisdom would survive. Even if sometimes, some very long times, he would wish he had not.