Breakin

Rebecca was sitting in her small black car in the dead of night. The radio was playing some rubbish latest boy band music as she pulled latex gloves over her hands. The car was parked outside a large warehouse in south Oxford. It’s dirty brick walls and tin roof was dripping with water as the rain poured down. The street lights showed the rain flying around outside. The wind was deafeningly loud as it howled like a wolf in the blackness. Rebecca was a private investigate and reporter for a large UK newspaper and was working on a new story. ...