Most days, Kari didn’t regret deciding to slide off the grid into the shadowy haven L.A. offered to those with a desire for faceless anonymity.
There was still enough cop in her to eye the rampant graffiti and know it as far more than artistic expression. It served as a territorial marker in a street lingo she knew well which is why, when she jogged, Pepper was along. She knew the LAPD K-9 Unit had to be pissed she’d left the job without bothering to return her partner to them. Oh, well.
Something on the radio she wore snapped her back to the present. Another body found…tortured…sexually assaulted….anyone with information contact….it ended with the Major Case hotline number.
Kari abandoned her run by heading for an area offering some privacy. Fishing out her phone, she hit the speed dial and waited to be routed to the detectives. She kept the call brief and her inquiry direct.
“Tell me again, assholes. How many of these silly bitches do I have to kill before you figure out who I am and catch me? I only ask ‘cause I’m getting tired of this game and may just take my act on the road.”
This story was written for the weekly Menage Monday flash fiction prompt.