In practice, he had spent his day listening to complaints about suspicious gaijin—Westerners—from all over the country. The presumed kidnapper’s description was so vague that it fit just about any white male, or at least, his fellow citizens seemed to think so.
In fact, he was currently on the phone with an elderly woman from Nagoya, a large town 200 km south of Tokyo. One of her tenants was a Westerner:
“He’s a big man, he looks just like the police sketch on TV.”
“I see. What’s his name?”
“Micheal Philips. I’m telling you, the man is suspicious, he is constantly up to no good. Yesterday he didn’t to put his garbage bin out and I haven’t seen him all day…”
Worst thing was, he couldn’t put down the phone until she was done. Orders were that every report had to be checked. Half-listening as the woman droned on about every transgression poor Mr. Philips had ever committed, he pulled up the man’s file on screen. Mr. Philips was a 24-year-old skinny kid teaching English.
As soon as the lady paused to catch her breath, he thanked her and ended the call. He glanced at the queue.
73 calls waiting.
He took the next call. The caller had seen a Westerner walking with a large backpack. With Kaori? Of course not. The man was alone but you never know, right?
“Thank you very much for reporting this, sir.”
—Click—
84 calls waiting.
This is hell. He thought as he glanced with envy at the door of the investigators’ office, a brand-new team he’d never seen before. At least THEY were doing real work. He pressed the button to accept another call.
On the other side of that door, Tanaka wished he could be outside, answering phone calls. He had to report to Oroshi soon and so far, he had been unable to get anything new.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Tanaka had been reviewing traffic camera footage. Police access helped, but he had lost track of the pink Lexus shortly after it crossed the bridge over the Edo river. Ichikawa city had far fewer cameras than Tokyo proper. That much was expected, but still…
Up to that point, Kaori had followed a mostly straight path, from Suidobashi to Asakusa, crossing the Sumida River, then Arakawa and Edo Rivers, and then… nothing. The trail appeared to have stopped cold. He had sent some men to Ichikawa hoping to catch a lead, but the car was nowhere to be seen. Maybe they ditched it in the river. If so, finding it would take a while, but then they’d be on foot, and Kaori was far too recognizable to avoid detection that long.
Where could they be going? He zoomed out the map and traced their known locations. They were heading east. A bit to the north too, but that was likely just a due to the street layout.
Let’s assume they are going east. What’s her destination? Chiba? He’d already checked Chiba. He had pulled the list of all known properties linked to her family. There were hundreds throughout the country, and that didn’t even include her friends’ estates. Only two places in Chiba though: a factory in Inage ward, and a shipping center next to KS harbor. Would Kaori know about those? Doubtful.
He looked back at the map. He had checked every destination he could think of, including Mashiro’s estates near Narita. While the area was largely farmlands due to an urban zoning convention that prevented Tokyo’s expansion in that direction, many of the nation’s wealthiest owned properties nearby, as evidenced by the astounding number of golf courses in the area. Kaori’s father counted amongst them. Daisuke was, after all, known to be an avid golfer.
The Mashiro estate was barely eight miles away from Narita’s International Airport, but traffic cameras hadn’t picked up the Lexus. His men reviewed footage from nearby intersections, to no avail.
His phone rang. Oroshi. And he still had nothing, unless… What if Kaori isn’t hiding but fleeing? The airport was just there, after all. The phone rang a second time and he picked up.
“Report.” Oroshi said.
“Sir, we lost their trail around Ichikawa city, so I can’t be sure, but I think they went to Narita Airport.”
“Have you checked to Airport’s cameras?” Oroshi asked.
“We are on that right now, but there are many cameras, and it will still take several hours.”
It was a lie, but hopefully one Oroshi could not check.
Oroshi did not answer at first, considering the possibility. Tanaka waited with bated breath.
“Never mind Narita for now, I don’t think she has her passport and even if she did, the airlines would have reported on her trip, and we would already know about it.
What time did you lose track of them?”
“2:34 a.m., sir.”
“Look at all the traffic cameras going back into Tokyo after that time and call me back. If she thought she was being chased, she might have gone in the wrong direction to mislead us. Keep looking.”
Tanaka put down the phone on the desk. He was shaking. Oroshi had been perfectly polite, almost friendly even…
If he didn’t find Kaori’s track soon, he was done for.
In the mood for something cozy, spicy, and otherworldly? Join Dr. Ryst Nova in the Andromeda Galaxy, 700 years from now. Ryst survives an attempt on her life, but now she's hearing voices she can't explain and dreaming of a man she's never met. When she goes looking for him, what does she uncover, and could she set in motion a string of events that will break reality itself? Find out in .
What to Expect:
- Female & male leads.
- LGBT leads & cast.
- Neurodifferent and nonverbal characters.
- Slow burn romance that turns NSFW spicy.
- Telepathy, Tantra, & psychic phenomenon.
- Seven book series. For the stand-alone Comedy Space Operas, start in .
- For the stand-alone WLW Psychological Thriller Romance, go to Discordant .