Pick Up, Pick Up

Police Station - Sheridan, Wyoming

John Wyndwood hurried outside, his heart racing as he pretended to need a breath of fresh air and an excuse to call his wife. The night air was crisp, but his mind was far from relaxed. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number that Lydia had written on Finlay's inner arm, his fingers trembling with anxiety.

As the phone rang, John paced agitatedly, glancing around the dimly lit area, his worry for his son reaching a fever pitch. The gaunt telepath in the interrogation room had cast a shadow of fear over him, and he couldn't help but imagine the worst scenarios.

Each ring of the phone felt like an eternity, and John's mind raced with thoughts of what could be happening to Finlay inside the police precinct. He knew that the EAST organization was deemed necessary by many, but he had also heard the rumors and accusations of a darker side to their operations. The uncertainty gnawed at him as he waited for someone on the other end to pick up.