"Hello, ma'am, I am Senior Agent Jimmy Yang from the FBI. Have you noticed the lady across the street? When was the last time you saw her?"

Jimmy looked at the lady who was peeking out from a crack in the door and spoke first, simultaneously flashing his pre-prepared FBI badge for her to see before putting it back in his pocket.

The lady confirmed Jimmy's FBI credentials and then opened the door chain, "Has something happened to her? The last time, it should have been late yesterday afternoon."

Jimmy: "Can you tell me what she was doing at that time? Did you notice anything unusual last night?"

The lady shook her head: "No, when I saw her yesterday, she seemed to have just returned from the supermarket, holding a lot of things."

Jimmy turned his head to look at Mark; Mark shook his head, knocked on the door, and got no response.

Jimmy: "Thank you, ma'am. If you remember anything, please contact me by phone. Here's my card."

Jimmy handed a business card to the lady and nodded at Mark, signaling the two to leave.

As Jimmy went downstairs, he took out his phone and dialed the tech department, "Tech department, this is Jimmy Yang from the Homicide Team. We have an urgent situation. Please help me locate our teammate Julia Lee's phone. She's gone missing... Yes, please locate it as soon as possible. I'll contact Ruiz to grant you authorization."

Mark saw Jimmy hang up the phone and was about to speak when Jimmy shook his hand, dialing Ruiz's number once more, "Ruiz, Julia Lee from our team has disappeared. We can't reach her by phone. I've contacted the tech department to help locate her."

Ruiz: "Explain the situation in detail."

Jimmy: "Her neighbor last saw her yesterday evening. She had just returned from shopping, and no one has seen her since. We can't reach her this morning. We've come to her apartment, and it seems no one is inside, so we haven't forced entry to check.

Ruiz: "Understood. If necessary, break in and take a look."

Jimmy: "Okay, please call the tech department for me."

Jimmy hung up the phone and looked at Mark: "Let's go back and get inside."

Standing at the door, Mark had an injured arm, so the task of breaking down the door naturally fell to Jimmy. He stepped back against the wall, took a running start, and kicked the door near the lock.

With Jimmy's physical strength, such a flimsy wooden door should have given way with one kick, but Julia evidently had strong security measures. Although the lock area felt visibly damaged, the door remained closed, likely secured by additional locks at the top and bottom.

Jimmy tried again, finally kicking the door open. Mark had already drawn his Glock in his right hand, aiming into the room, and followed Jimmy inside, maintaining vigilance.

Julia's apartment appeared very tidy, with no clothes strewn about. The only disorder was a blanket lazily tossed to one side of the sofa.

Jimmy and Mark searched the room: "No issues found; she likely wasn't abducted from here. Also, I see her gun holster: she didn't take her service weapon when she left."

Jimmy walked directly to the bedroom, which Mark had recently checked: "Show me."

In the bedroom's bedside drawer, her Glock service pistol and holster were found, spare magazines attached to the holster. They were undoubtedly placed there by her. Furthermore, her FBI credentials and badge lay beside the gun, equipment essential except for personal affairs.

Jimmy: "There's something off; there's only one gun here. What about Julia's backup gun?"

Mark: "A Smith and Wesson 640, a short-barreled revolver that uses .357 Magnum bullets, worn on her ankle during work hours."

Jimmy: "It's not here. Keep looking."

Just then, Jimmy's phone rang, "Jimmy, this is Alya Foster from the tech department. Julia's phone is in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I've sent the coordinates to your phone."

Jimmy: "Thanks, Alya. Also, please trace the movements of this phone after yesterday evening. Julia may be missing."

Alya: "OK, it'll take some time."

Jimmy: "Alright, also, retrieve Julia's call logs from yesterday to today. I need to know if she contacted anyone yesterday. Call me once you have results."

Alya: "We can't access raw call data here due to our permissions."

Jimmy: "Have someone request higher-level access. Extract her phone's movements first, and we'll investigate the last known location."

Jimmy hung up, checked the address in the text message, noted that Julia's apartment was in Prospect Heights and that the phone's location was in Williamsburg—relatively close. He pocketed his phone and said, "Mark, we've got an address. Stay here and continue searching. Also, notify backup agents to secure the scene and the forensic team to investigate. Since your arm is injured, wait here for them."

Mark, rummaging through the wardrobe, stood up immediately: "I'll go with you; it'll be more convenient to investigate with more people."

Jimmy: "No, the door's broken. If you don't stay here to keep watch, by the time the forensics team arrives, the place could be stripped bare. Follow orders."

Mark nodded: "Alright, I'll wait for them to arrive before coming to support you."

Jimmy left Julia's apartment and drove to the location of the phone.

Williamsburg is an area in Brooklyn, historically a hub for beer brewing, resulting in a diverse workforce gathering of various ethnicities. After numerous updates, the city government has targeted the area for environmental revamping, akin to Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen.

Following gentrification and official guidance, it gradually became a center for arts and fashion exchange, drawing more and more young people. It's renowned for street graffiti, innovative commercial development, vibrant culture, varied dining options, and a bustling nightlife.

Jimmy drove into a street, pulled out his phone, and checked the GPS information against the coordinates from the message, noting their alignment. He found himself in a narrow alley. The GPS couldn't pinpoint Julia's phone exactly but indicated it was somewhere nearby.

Jimmy called Julia's phone and turned his head from side to side, discerned a faint buzzing but couldn't pinpoint its source. It seemed to be somewhere in his vicinity.

Jimmy assessed the scene, calling the office to see if more personnel could be dispatched. If no one was available, he'd need support from law enforcement from the Queens-Brooklyn field office.

Returning the phone to his pocket, Jimmy donned gloves and started searching through the garbage on both sides of the alley. His "Heart Eye Vision" couldn't locate a small block amidst the trash, everything was mixed together.

Soon a garbage truck arrived, stopping right at the spot where Jimmy was searching. The driver leaned out the window: "Hey, what are you doing? Clear the way."

Jimmy stood, lifted a corner of his suit to reveal the FBI badge on his waistband, "FBI, I need to find a phone here. You'll have to wait a while."

The driver muttered under his breath, turned off the engine, and sat in the truck watching Jimmy work.

Before backup arrived, Jimmy found a phone in a large dumpster. Opening it, he saw it was indeed Julia's, filled with missed calls.

Jimmy removed his gloves, used a handkerchief from his suit's inner pocket to carefully wrap Julia's phone, and told the driver as he walked back to his car: "Don't clear the trash here yet, we're still looking for clues."

The driver, who had waited for so long resulting in frustration, could only stifle his anger and slowly backed out of the alley.

Jimmy returned to the car, placing the phone in a plastic evidence bag, planning to take it back for examination. If something happened to Julia, the phone might have other people's fingerprints.

Jimmy called Mark to update him and contacted the office's forensic department duty team to conduct an urgent examination upon returning the phone. Since a colleague was involved, it had to be prioritized to the highest level.

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