Opaquias - Chapter 2

The next morning I received a call from the Chief of Police. Everyone calls her Chief, instead of her real name, Karissa. She has longer light brown hair, and is very slight. No matter how many doughnuts she eats, she looks like a stick. In high school we called her porky. I think you can figure out why. She was my best friend, and still is.
"Hey Onion, I need you to come down to the woods right away. There's a problem here that I think you could help clear up." When we were younger, people couldn't pronounce my name right. It sounded a lot like Onion, so that's what people decided to call me. My parents were the ones who blessed me with my name, so go ask them, not me.
"Sorry Chief, can't play detective today. I actually do have work to do." Actually, I didn't have to go to work. Chief paid me for the extra help I gave her, and all I do at work is file papers, which could wait for a while.
"Listen, I called Peter and he said he'd let you go today. He decided to give you the day off." Peter is my boss, and it was a surprise that he let me have the day off. Usually I don't even get coffee breaks. He's a cranky old man. Bald and chubby. He has no beard, or he would look like Santa.
"All right. I'll come down." I hung up the phone. I sighed. This was getting to be too much for me. Maybe I should become a full time detective, and give up my filing job. If I did that I would have more time on my hands, and more money. But every time I do something detective like, I get in trouble, or hurt, or something. This had been an ongoing struggle with me for over a year now. I do get paid better as a detective, but with a town so small, how can there be so much crime? Oh well, save that thought for later.
As I got ready I thought of last night. I wondered if I should have been as scared as I was, or maybe it was somebody behind me who followed me because I dropped a wallet or something. I didn't think so, because wouldn't they have called out to me or something? I grabbed my bag, which consisted of a camera, pistol, notebook and pen.
"Off to the woods again." I said to myself as I headed through the kitchen towards the garage.
"Tap, tap, tap." I pounded on the garage door opener three times.
" Why won't this stupid garage door open! Ugh..fine... I'll use the opener in the car." By this point in my life, I was used to talking out loud to myself. (I read a survey where it said that smarter people talk out loud to themselves.)
I found the door opener in between my car seats and gave it a squeeze. The door opened.
"Finally." I started the car and put it in reverse. Then a loud sound shook my whole garage.
"What the..." I looked up, and saw that my garage door opener had blown up! Just as I was about to get out and examine the damage a something, that resembled a bullet whizzed past my door and shattered my side view mirror.
"Oh my God!" My mind raced. "Get the heck outta there!" Was my first thought. I revved up the engine and slammed on the gas and tore out of the driveway.
"Somebody had been shooting at me!" I thought wildly. I looked behind me as I drove away, but I didn't see anyone. They had to be hiding in the bushes or something across the street from me waiting for me to leave the house. If that garage door opener had worked, I would have been dead! Thank God for faulty appliances.
But why was that guy shooting at me? In 2 days I had been scared out of my wits twice. I wondered if that thing that was in the woods somehow had a link to the guy shooting at me.
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