Hero

SAM

               "Rodriguez, what do you mean when you say he's missing?!" I asked frantically, "Did you call the police?!"

               "Calm down. I didn't call the police," he said unconcernedly.

               "What?! Then, I'll call them!" I said loudly, muttering to myself, "I have to do everything around here. First Sergei, now Adrian–"

               "No, I already called LeBron," he told me, "He's stronger and has more leads. Besides, the police will just attract attention and cause chaos with their blaring sirens. Adrian might also be playing a prank because when I took away his phone, he asked me what would happen if he went missing. That's my guess, but LeBron said he'd investigate right away. He wanted our help and told us to meet him at the courthouse at ten o'clock sharp."

               "What about Antonio?" I inquired, "His school doesn't end until three-thirty."

               "We'll be back in time," he assured me.

               "And if we aren't?" I suggested.

               "Sam, we will be back in time," he repeated.

               "Okay, but what if we aren't back in time?" I asked again. He sighed.

               "If we aren't back in time, then you can leave the case and pick him up," he concluded. I looked at my watch.

               "Well, it's nine forty-two, so we should probably get ready to go," I said. We hung up, and I gathered all the necessary weapons and tools to find my missing son, prank or no prank. What I didn't understand was why Rodriguez waited two damn hours to tell me.

               When we got to the courthouse, LeBron was waiting there. When he saw us pull up, he checked his watch.

               "Fantastic," he congratulated, "You made it right on time, not a second wasted."

               "I know how you are." Rodriguez nodded, stepping out of the car.

               "Where do we start, LeBron?" I asked him, ready for action. He yawned.

               "We don't start anywhere," he told us, "I already finished solving the case while waiting for you guys. All we need to do is find him." He started walking down the sidewalk, and we followed him. He stopped at an alley.

               "This is where Adrian's adventure began." LeBron turned toward us. "Now, I'm not quite sure what Adrian was doing this far in the city when he was on restriction, but so far, what I do know is that someone most likely grabbed him and took off down this alley," he walked down the narrow pathway, and it eventually led to an opening. "The evidence is unclear of what Adrian's kidnapper did next, but I could tell that the kidnapper held Adrian up to the wall so that Adrian's feet didn't make contact with the ground."

               "How do you know that?" I asked. He looked at me as if to say, "you stupid idiot, this is so obvious," and took a small bag from his pocket. He showed it to me.

               "Because I took a close look at the wall and found a white hair sticking to it," he told me, "Seems there used to be a poster on this brick wall, and it was ripped off very recently. There's still glue on the wall."

               "That's Adrian's hair!" Rodriguez exclaimed.

               "That's right," LeBron agreed, returning to the wall. "I found the hair sticking to the wall seven feet and ten inches in height, which means that the kidnapper was somewhere around six feet and three inches tall if they were holding Adrian up against the wall."

               "And then, the kidnapper deprived Adrian of oxygen until he passed out?" Rodriguez guessed.

               "No," LeBron shook his head. "Don't you see it? There's a blood droplet on the pavement here," He knelt, took out a cloth, and got a blood sample. "I don't know if it's Adrian's or the kidnapper's, but my best guess is that it was the kidnapper's because from where the blood came from, it looked like it dropped from the perpetrator's wrist." He imitated what the kidnapper's stance would have looked like. "I'm guessing Adrian had a spare knife on him," LeBron walked over to some garbage cans and continued to explain what had happened. "This garbage can has a dent in the side, and the ones beside it look like they've taken impact from the first one. My prediction is that when Adrian hurt his abductor, he got thrown into these trash cans, which also provides information about the kidnapper's strength," LeBron got close to the pavement like he did when he spotted the kidnapper's blood. To my surprise, he pointed at more blood. "There's another blood sample here, and this time, there's more of it. It has to be Adrian's blood, and since there's more of it, I'm assuming that Adrian's nose was bleeding, or maybe he even coughed some up. This is all I have so far. There's only one more thing I'm missing," LeBron looked around. "Where the hell did they go?"

               "Maybe they had a motor vehicle come to pick them up, like a car," I suggested.

               "No. The opening's too small to fit a car," LeBron said, still thinking.

               "It could have been a motorcycle," Rodriguez indicated. LeBron turned to Rodriguez.

               "Even if it were a motorcycle, someone to come and pick them up would have a hard time fitting three people onto one motorcycle. Besides, motorcycles are prohibited in these alleys, so even if there were two motorcycles to help out, the police would've seen and flagged them down," LeBron explained, "So, my only other options are that they went straight down..." LeBron looked up at the tall building. "Or straight up." LeBron's eyes widened, and he slowly held his hand to me.

               "Samantha," he whispered, "Give me your pistol. Now."

               "Why–" He shook his hand violently.

               "Just give it to me," he shout-whispered. Suddenly, a bullet skimmed LeBron's arm. He winced, and I quickly took it out and handed it to him. He instantly aimed at the top of the building and fired. After a while, he lowered the gun. "Bingo." He looked at his arm. "Dammit!"

               "May I ask what you were aiming at?" I asked, taking the gun from him.

               "Sniper," he answered. "I saw the scope reflect the sun, but he shot me first at close range thanks to Samantha's hesitation."

               "Guns are not toys!" I protested.

               "You're right, but they're also not decorations," he shot back, and it made me angry. I didn't have anything to say in return, though.

               He looked up at the building again from where the sniper was. "Throw down your rope, or I'll make sure I shoot more than just your Hecate sniper," LeBron ordered, and after a couple of long seconds, we saw rope fly down toward us.