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Wilson hammered on his laptop searching for answers. He was desperate to bring Natasha home. He had spent the last few days talking to all her friends and going to all her favorite spots. But still he had not found any leads. He called his mother and sister to inform her of his plan. He maneuvered his vehicle around a dozen or so news trucks littering the parking lot. He went inside and met up with his mother and sister in the conference room.
“Wilson don’t do this,” Mrs. Verna pleaded with tears in her eyes.
He turned on his heel, facing her. “Mom time is running out.”
“But Wilson, what if something goes wrong?” Gina asked, while passing him a black money bag.
“The worst thing that can happen is that we get a lot of leads.”
Captain Michael Summers stepped up and placed his hand on his shoulder, “No. The worse thing that can happen is that we get too many leads?”
Wilson hesitated a moment before saying, “I’m doing this.” He swung the door to the conference room wide open and proceeded down the hallway as if he ruled the world. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like a red bull.
Several reporters from the local news stations turned his way when he stepped outside.
Determined, he cleared his throat as he made his way to the podium. Wilson glanced over his shoulder at his mother and Gina. He winked his eye at them.
Wilson moved in closer to the microphone. “My sister Natasha is missing.” He reached back and grabbed the large framed picture his mother held in her hands.
The reporters began firing off question after question.
“Did your sister have a boyfriend?”
“No, she didn’t,” he responded.
“Do you think this is related to one of your cases?”
Wilson shook his head and said, “No.”
“How can you be sure?” A blonde reporter in the front inquired.
“Have you received any demands for money?” another asked.
He held up his hand, “Wait... wait.”
Again, he held up the picture. “This is Natasha. She’s been missing several days now.” He stopped talking and pulled out one of the bank bags.
“We don’t know who took her, but we want her back.” He glanced over at his mother before he allowed the next words to fall out of his mouth.
“We have half a million dollars.” He leaned forward and glared right into the camera. “We will give you half a million dollars for the revelation of who kidnapped my sister and where she may be...” He pointed a thick finger at the camera. “In cash.”
The voices from the mass of reporters sounded like a roar in his ears. Cameras clicked, flashbulbs flashed, almost blinding him. Wilson threw up his hand in front of his face. He left the podium and took the hands of his mother and sister. In unison, they walked back inside the police station.
Minutes later, the police department switchboard was lit up like the midnight sky on the Fourth of July.