".....James Barnes..." I nearly snarffed my coffee out of my nose when I heard the news reporter on the mounted TV in the nearly empty Starbucks say his name.

I stood and peeked my head above the thin wall that blocked my table from view of the counter and said to the dude, "Hey, turn the volume up?" The poor guy jumped at my bluntness and I watched as he fumbled around for the remote.

".....Spotted near...." The reporter was saying. "...substantial reward for anyone who provides information on his whereabouts...."

I looked around at the few people in the booths and tables around me. An older couple sitting nearest me, talking and laughing and probably on a date. Two moms sitting and talking while their teen girls talked about boys and high school crap. My eyes settled on a middle-aged man sitting at the darkest part of the room, in the corner, in a hooded leather jacket. He had his dark brown hair down to the bottom of his neck and was flicking his eyes around anxiously, as if he was looking for someone. They were the color of the sea after a storm. But that wasn't the oddest thing about him, but it was that he wore two thin looking black gloves on either hand. In July.

I watched him for what seemed like seconds as he was hunched over a small white coffee cup and continued to glance around. Finally, our eyes met, and his eyes looked so sad and helplessly desperate for help, I couldn't look away.

He held my gaze.

"Ma'am?" I didn't notice the Starbucks employee approached my table until he said something and I came back to reality.

"What?" I asked.

"I asked if you needed any more coffee?' He asked politely.

"No thanks,' I looked at his name tag. "Mike.' He nodded and walked back to the counter as we heard the little bell above the door announce more guests.

I sipped more of my coffee. I looked up, though, when i heard something I assumed was a phone hitting the table of the man who held my gaze a second ago. I saw no phone on his table. His gloves were there, and his hands were under the table so I couldn't see them. His hood was down so I saw the sunglasses resting on his baseball cap. I looked back up at the TV.

The man had a metal arm attached to his left shoulder. Was that...? Is he... here? I looked back at the man in the corner, but he was gone. My eyes widened and I stood up, a little too abruptly, and spilled my coffee cup all over the place. I was aware of the people around me giving me dirty looks and saying things but i didn't hear them. I went right to his table.

The only thing there was a note on his seat and a glove. The glove was meant for the left hand. I opened the paper and read it carefully;

You guessed right.

Meet me back here tonight at 1:00AM.

Bring my pack.

I shoved the note into my pocket and looked around the table, picked up the black lightweight backpack, and turned without looking. I came face to face with a police officer.

"Hi." The cop said. His tone of voice made me nervous, but I had lots of experience in lying (don't ask) so I tried to act natural.

"Can I help you?" I asked coldly.

"Just wondering what you got in that bag, is all." The police said gesturing his hand to the backpack.

"It's my boyfriend's." I lied. "He forgot it there yesterday, and I came back to get it. Now, I'm late for work, so I gotta go." I hurried out of the building and into my car. I tossed the pack into the passenger seat next to me and drove home as fast as I could.

I paced in my small one-bedroom apartment later that night. The clock read 11:26PM, so I had about an hour and a half to be back at Starbucks.

--------------

After I got home around 6:30, I put the mystery backpack in my bedroom closet and locked the door before tying that key in my ceiling fan blade and set it to the High setting. I changed my clothes and currently wore a pair of denim skinny jeans and my blue converse, my shoulder-length brown hair was tied back in a high ponytail. I paced in my living room while the clock ticked off the minutes. Curiosity was a big trait of mine. So big it usually gets me in trouble.... But who cares? I stopped the ceiling fan, took the key and unlocked the closet door. I sat down right there with the backpack and unzipped it. This will definitely get me in trouble, I thought.

Inside the black backpack was a gun.