"Victor. Someone in Ollie's apartment building was murdered recently, right? Is he still back at the department? Who's with him? Roxie? Lana?" He stared at her blankly, before the realisation hit him. Jonathon appeared and called the analyst, but didn't appear to have any luck.
He turned back to Victor and Alexandra. "Once we get back to the station and the two of you have done everything you can with the evidence we've gotten today, I want some research done on this sentence. If any of you find anything, I want to be the first one to hear about anything that you may have figured out. If you're right Alexandra, which I hope you aren't for once, Ollie may be in trouble." He nodded, and headed back inside, pulling the hood of his clean suit over his hair again and pulling the mask over his face.
His mind wasn't on his work as he dusted for fingerprints. He was worried about Ollie. He mightn't have been best friends with him, but he still didn't want him to get shot. And besides, if Ollie was the next victim, that meant that he was turning to the night shift team. It could be him or Alexandra next. And he didn't want either of those to happen.
His phone buzzed to indicate that it had turned on. He went over to it and saw that he had a new voicemail from Jonathon. He decided to check it in a few minutes, after he was finished comparing the fingerprint samples. He didn't think for a second that anything would show up, but he was including more databases in the hope of something coming up.
He'd left the door open so that Roxie could come in, even if he was in the middle of something. He drained his coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. His computer beeped, confirming what he had expected. The partial fingerprint didn't match any previous records, and he sighed.
He heard someone at the door. He knew that it was probably Roxie, but he glanced over his shoulder anyway.
He'd never been so glad that he had looked over his shoulder.
A figure, dressed entirely in loose black clothing that hid it's figure, making it impossible to see if it was a male or a female, stood there, a gun barrel raised. Ollie leaped for his gun, which lay on the chair a few feet from him. The first bullet missed his shoulder by inches. The second hit him in his shoulder, but Ollie managed to raise his gun with his good arm and fire off two shots. He wasn't sure if he hit him or not, but it was enough to make him run, throwing a card in his direction. Ollie wasn't quick enough. By the time he made it to the door of the lab, still clutching his gun, the figure was gone.
His breath was shaking. Now that the immediate threat was gone, his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone. He knew that he should probably call an ambulance, but he didn't want that. He was suddenly terrified and aware of how close he'd been to dying. He called Jonathon's number.
"Jonathon... He was here. " He still felt like he couldn't breathe, and found himself almost gasping for breath. Tears streamed down his face. "Oh God, he tried to kill me. Oh God. Oh God."
He was pretty sure that he was hyperventilating now. But he didn't care, he was just so scared and his shoulder hurt so badly. He couldn't get anything else out. He glanced at his shoulder and knew that it was probably just a flesh wound, but the fact that it could have hit his heart or his brain terrified him.