6. Repulsive Mint.

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Chapter Six

Repulsive Mint

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A sensation of something creeping up my spine caused me to shiver. Rachel had been taken. No one knows where or who by. She could be suffering right now. I hope to hell she's alright.

The detective looked between the officer and me with no emotion. What's with this guy? Is he an alien or some shit?

"Now, do you believe me?" I asked, folding my arm. Yes, I know it's childish, but my vision was correct. "I told you she was—"

"Tziporah Summers, I am placing you under arrest for..." I zoned out because I don't recall him finishing the sentence.

My arms were forced behind my back, and I felt something metal come into contact with my wrists and wrap around them. Someone pushed me forward, making me walk through the house. I passed a picture of Rachel and her mum hanging in the hallway and couldn't stop tears from spilling down my cheeks. I could hear voices around me, but so many thoughts raced through my mind, blocking the voices.

If only I had called Rachel this morning instead of texting, maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be missing, and her mum wouldn't be dead.

Oh god, what is my mum going to say? She's best friends with Mrs Smith.

I hadn't realised we were outside until the sun came out from behind a cloud, causing me to squint. I felt someone push me from behind, almost making me trip.

"I'm taking this one to our headquarters," I had to sudden urge to slap detective dickhead; how dare he refer to me as this one! I have a name. "Keep officers stationed here until further notice."

"Yes, sir!"

We walked down the narrow path leading from Mrs Smith's front door, across her lawn and to where a black van was parked on the side of the road.

A van of all vehicles.

He drives a van.

Why not an expensive car? I'm confident he could even afford a limousine.

"Nice ride," I commented as we approached the van.

Did Detective Daniels respond?

Well, what do you think? He's a man of few words. So no, he did not.

Instead of answering, Mr Finn Daniels removed the cuffs from me, opened the back door, slid it along the van's side, and motioned for me to get in. Against my better judgment, I obeyed. Climbing inside, my nostrils were engulfed by a minty aroma.

Ugh, disgusting.

I hate the smell of mint. It's repulsive.

Now, sitting in the middle seat, the door closed, and I noticed windows suddenly became tinted as if someone turned a switch. I must admit that was incredibly cool. The interior was completely black, matching the exterior. Leather covered the chairs, and a dividing cage separated the front from the back.

"Van's have plenty of room," the detective told me as he entered the vehicle, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Room for what? You to hide dead bodies?"

Adjusting the rearview mirror so he could see me in it, Mr Finn Daniels locked eyes with mine for a split second. "I am sorry about your friend," he said.

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