Freedom XVII

In the FBI office in Portland, Agent Wilson looked at his text and flinched. It contained the news he’d been afraid to receive ever since Aidan had disappeared. 

He stood up from his desk, exchanged a few words with his supervisor and left the building in a hurry. 

The coastal highway felt endless to the agent as he drove south in search of a little town he’d only heard of from his missing subordinate. Heart in his throat, he at long last arrived outside a picturesque house near the outskirts of town. 

Everything was quiet. A jeep which he didn’t recognize was parked in the driveway, drawing minor alarm from Agent Wilson as he silently prepared his weapon and approached the front door. His knock received no response, so he knocked again, louder this time. 

“FBI! Open the door!”


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