Most evenings, Hank Wilfred found himself just making it to the closing route on the subway station's last train route. It was almost midnight and he clutched his suit case full of classified documents. With the sweat of his brow, he reached the doors of the underground train.

Empty, well, almost completely, Mr. Wilfred was use to this lonely feeling at night. Often that is how each night felt, slowly as the sun died he no longer needed to show a cheerful smile. Most at six o’clock were able to return home from the office.

Every night, it was easier for Mr. Wildfred to take a subway train. Gas was too expensive these days but he preferred cars better. The Station he would always take back and forth to home and work was disgusting. Often he wouldn’t look, the next thing he would feel on his polished shoes was the squishing of gum. The seats had paint scrapped off with most chipping and the poles for standing were rusted to the very top.

When Mr. Wilfred sat, the train began to pull along with one last powerful thrust. Mr. Wilfred looked around to see if the usual late workers were there but surprisingly he found himself alone, at first. He looked though, to his right when he was feeling and an uneasy presence was there. A man sat close by. Mr. Wilfred whose eyes widened, of course it must be someone not from the city. He had never seen a man like him.

Valdein City was not a place of luxury, as often as it title made it to be. Mr. Wilfred and his past wife, came here not by choice. He got hired as one of the main detectives at the Valdein’s Police station. They eagerly selected him, because since the past decade, crime rate escalated since the taxes were now charging 75 percent of all pay checks. Which is why, Mr. Wilfred took the subway. The country had been going downhill since he could remember and he needed the money for his daughter’s schooling.

Lucy, his precious daughter was the main reason why he was still working himself to death. Only Seventeen years old she was still full of laughter and hope, she reminded him of her mother, when she was very young. Now Carmillia, his ex-wife lived in the country side wanting nothing to do with him. It hurt both him and Lucy when she left them so suddenly six months ago.

Mr. Wilfred knew Carmillia’s reasoning, life was hard with barely any money including with the long fights and the dead love they shared, it wasn’t fulfilling. She wanted to start over with someone else who could at least provide her with romance. It broke Mr. Wilfred, but he still wore his ring remembering the love they once shared together.

“Pretty ring.” Said a smooth voice, it was like a snake slithering to Mr. Wifred's ears. Mr. Wilfred looked over his shoulder gripping his suit case, his eyes became fixed on the man. The man was a bit taller than him and was leaning back on his seat.

“Why thank you, I see you are just as dressed up as me, but this is my only suite you must have many more than I.” Said Mr. Wilfred, he darted his eyes away from the man respectfully.

“Devon is the name.” The man spoke again but this time his voice was clean spoken. His unusually long fingers tapped his knee. “Devon Pristine.”

“My name is Hank, Hank Milfred” Mr. Milfred said, sitting up straighter trying to suck in his beer belly to look at least a bit more youthful.

“Hmmm interesting.” Devon said his head slowly turning towards Mr. Milfred, who still couldn’t see the other man's eyes. Devon stretched his hand out. “Pleasure.”

Mr. Milfred in hesitatation shook the man's hand, he watched Devon’s fingers wrap around his wrist, his thumb rubbing on Mr. Wilfred's vein. The vein that was shooting blood to his heart in circulation. Mr. Wilfred pulled back quickly. “What is someone like you up at this ungodly hour?” Mr. Wilfred said as he squirmed in his seat.

“I should ask the same for you, a man at your age should be asleep.” Devon said sitting back in his seat but he was even closer now.

“Why I’m awake?” Mr. Wilfred Cackled. “I’m a dectective with an energetic daughter who loves shoes. She needs money for shoes and I need money to fill my stomach with beer. With taxes rising both our lives are in hell and we need something to gorge ourselves to pass the time!”

“Ahhhh a daughter you say? Youth is lovely, it’s like a young humming bird first flapping it’s wings but once it starts flapping it’s wings very fast, it ages. How old?” Devon said this awhile putting his long finger to his thin lips letting, his finger trace on his own delicate lips as if they were her's

Mr. Wilfred glared at this filthy rich man, he was just like the rest of them. “Her age is young and something I do not wish to share with such strangers who are causing the taxes.” He snapped with agitation to Mr. Pristine.

The train suddenly stopped at a halt at Mr. Wilfred's stop. He picked up his suite case, jerking it close to his thigh as he past Mr. Pristine with a disgusted look.

Mr. Pristine responded by opening mouth once more. By his expression, Mr. Wilfred knew he wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. “I’m not with the politicians, I play my own game with the people in the cities.”

He had his legs in the black, tight slacks crossed over on each other, his white gloved hands clasped on his thighs. He was wearing a beautiful suite of the rich, most likely he was a politician who was leaving a local campaign. His face was hard to see since he had a top hat, that made a shadow through the lighting veiling his face. He didn’t even seem to be looking at Mr. Milfred, who was growing stiffer.

Mr. Wilfred sprinted, but it was more like a jog, as he quickly left station. The lamp lights flickered with a few cars chasing him all the way home. Which was the fourth floor of an old brick apartment building. He rushed up the stairs with his back killing him at the end when he reached for his front door. Panting, he dug in his pocket for the key, yes the key of safety. Home, Lucy, his warm bed! He could almost smell the microwave dinner she made for him.

He unlocked the door and shut it with a loud crack before latching it up again. He blinked a few times his heart pounding as he heard someone pass his apartment door. The footsteps kept going down the hall, but the strange thing was, it was a dead end and he was the very last door.

Author's note, 

Dear Reader's I'm very excited to kick off this series and hope you will enjoy this thriller as much as I do. If you have any questions or concerns let me know. Thanks and enjoy!