Run, Girl (If You Can)-Chapter 348: Which Category?
Posted on January 28, 2025 · 1 mins read
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Darren came to work with a headache the next day. He'd barely slept, unable to stop thinking about the anonymous tip.

He'd managed to forget it during his wife's birthday dinner, but the moment the presents were opened, the cake eaten, and everyone departed, the worry returned, an insistent itch he couldn't scratch.

He'd received many anonymous tips. Some came from cranks seeking notoriety; others from well-meaning but unhelpful individuals. Still others originated from criminals seeking to distance themselves from their associates.

But which category did this tipster fall into? The detail was unsettling—remembering a license plate number, even a peculiar one. Most people can't recall full plate numbers, often confusing similar letters like "V" and "U" in fleeting glances.

The timing was also suspicious: the delay between the murder, the reward offer, and the tip. Who waits weeks to report something and still remembers it vividly?

Most troubling, the tipster contacted him, not the precinct handling the investigation. Why him? How did the tipper even know who he was? The tipper claimed a friend called Darren "the only trustworthy cop he knows." This was both flattering and insulting—a testament to his reputation, yet also a slight against his profession.

This friend must have been involved in one of his past cases, but with so many over the years, recalling them all was impossible. He might vaguely recognize the friend if he saw him, but that was likely the extent of it. Human memory has its limits.

If legitimate, this tip could lead to an arrest and solve the mystery. That outweighed his burning curiosity.

Darren reviewed his call notes. The tipper was male, age indeterminate—difficult to gauge by voice alone, especially over the phone. He was reportedly afraid of the killer, implying he'd seen the killer's face. This suggests a power imbalance; perhaps a boss-employee relationship?

The killer was either personally known to the tipper or a recognizable, powerful figure. The victim was a socialite; the murderer might be wealthy and well-known.

Access to Lacy Knighton's case file would simplify matters, but detectives are territorial. Obtaining permission from the other precinct would be difficult. Still, he'd need to contact them once he determined the tip's validity. He should focus on the license plate.

Running the plate was simple; within minutes, he had a name: Harry Ramone, a Taxi Star driver. He'd need to visit Taxi Star and see if they'd cooperate. If not, he'd get a warrant.

The owner of Taxi Star, a wizened old man with surprisingly bright eyes, proved surprisingly cooperative when Darren explained the murder investigation and the suspect seen entering one of his cabs. Few people were so civic-minded these days; warrants were increasingly common, even for simple requests.

"You're looking for someone who got into Harry's cab, right? If I remember correctly, he was testing out a new hidden dash cam…we've been having some vandalism problems lately," Mr. Wilson mumbled, typing at his computer.

Darren hid his excitement. A hidden dash cam? This was incredible! Clear footage of the killer's face might be available; all he'd need then was facial recognition software.

"Ah, here we go. Harry dropped someone off in the Flatiron District at 12:48…let's see…his next fare didn't give a name and paid in cash. Let me find that footage for you."

Mr. Wilson fast-forwarded, stopping at 12:48. He rotated the screen for Darren and pressed play.

A man in his forties exited the cab; Harry quickly drove off, picking up another fare shortly after. The dash cam only showed the car's interior.

A woman with long black hair—Lacy Knighton—was roughly shoved into the cab. A man matching the tipster's description followed, appearing annoyed, though sunglasses partially obscured his face.

Lacy attempted to kiss the man, who shoved her away and fastened her seatbelt. She persisted, clinging to him like Velcro throughout the ride. The sunglasses remained in place, a disappointment to Darren.

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