No one would steal his car on the streets of Tijuana. It made the search so much easier. He wondered what one of them would say, when finally found – the girls whose pictures he tucked in the door. He flicked his thumb around the edges of the latest addition. A girl called Rita. No parents, no friends to miss her.
He’d been a California detective for thirty years. Each one of the faces on his left had disappeared on his watch. It was another day off, and another day following the trail.
Photo credit belongs to Beth Carter, fellow Friday Fictioneer, for this amazing photo!
I first thought of Tijuana, Mexico when looking at this photo because of the experience my parents had when visiting a health clinic there. Needing a ride over the border from San Diego, they got a “taxi” that was anything but shiny and yellow (although not as bad as this!). The driver explained that his car was specifically for this purpose, as any nicer vehicles soon lost their hubcaps, radios, and anything else that could be appropriated.
Many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting the Friday Fictioneers! Each Friday brings a new photo prompt and the challenge to write a story in just 100 words. Follow the group on FaceBook or via Twitter – #FridayFictioneers. Please visit more Fictioneers for some Friday Flash fun!
Karen B. Nelson 