Too Late
Themis roared into the driveway, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the call from Ayla Phos.
She was clearly upset and in some kind of trouble, she had hinted at the trouble being connected to the disaster at the Towers. The number she had used was not the one he had on file for her and when he had called back a man had answered informing him that the young lady who had borrowed his phone had left in a hurry. He had grabbed his jacket bringing up the coordinates for the location she had given him. "Shit!" She was out in the boonies. Why would she go to someplace so isolated if she was in trouble? He would have a long talk about self-preservation when he saw her, that would be in another hour maybe more, he would have to teleport twice to make it to her. These teleportation laws were a real pain in the ass, especially since they extended to the police force. He was adamant that the police should have a dedicated teleport depot located at all stations with the ability to jump to secure sites in and around the cities, but the higher ups had had the final say. No one was above corruption was the excuse they had given. Now to reach Ayla he would either have to make a four-hour drive or use the public teleportation depots. "Just hold on Ayla!" He whispered under his breath as he got into his car and headed for the nearest depot.
He jumped from the car and ran up the driveway gravel crunching under his feet, so much for a quiet entrance. He took note of the vehicle parked to the far end of the circular driveway and proceeded to the cabin's main door. He drew his weapon and knocked on the door. "Police, open the door!" He shouted. No one answered. "Ms. Phos. This is detective Themis if you can hear me, please open the door!" Nothing. He walked back down the steps keeping an eye on the door, making a right towards the patio doors. They were full French but blocked by heavy drapes which impeded his view of the spacious living room. He called again but received no answer. Unable to get an unobstructed view into the cabin and getting no answer to his calls he decided a forced entry was warranted. He stepped up to the French doors and broke the glass nearest to the lock, slipped his hand inside and opened the door.
The cabin was deathly silent and there was a familiar scent in the air, blood. His heart began to pound as he began to walk towards what he believed to be the dining room. As he approached the room the smell grew more potent and he tightened his grip on his gun knowing what just out of his sight but hoping he was wrong. He stepped into the room his weapon at the ready, no one was there, no one alive that is. There was a woman tied to a chair, the pool of blood below her proclaimed that she was dead, no one could survive such blood loss. The color of her hair told him it wasn't Ayla. He walked up to her and placed his finger against her neck verifying that she was indeed dead, then he called for backup and went room to room clearing the cabin.
When he was sure he was alone, he approached the woman and kneeled to get a better look at her face, his breath caught in his throat as he remembered her smile from a few months ago. They had met briefly outside of Ayla's hospital room. He could not remember her name but knew the connection meant Ayla was in big trouble.
He radioed in a BOLO, giving Ayla's description and last known whereabouts. He hoped he wasn't too late.