“Good morning Finch,” Reese greeted as he placed a senchai green tea and a box of donuts on the table.
“Good morning, We have a new number,”
Finch got up from his chair, and walked over to the glass panel, taping two pieces of paper to it.
“Ella Williams, 15. Daughter of a murdered woman, no father in the picture,”
Reese quickly scanned over the article.
“Says that she’s meant to be dead,”
“Yes, so I took a deeper look. All the funds the mothers account were transferred to another account two years ago. I managed to trace them to another account - anonymous of course - which pays for what seems to be a relatively normal life; food, clothes and bills for an apartment in Brooklyn. You should be able to find her there.”
Finch taped a couple more pieces paper to the panel while Reese grabbed his camera, a Nikon, and his gun.
“But who would want to kill her?”
“Maybe she’s the illegitimate daughter of someone high up, and could destroy their reputation. Maybe she could identify a killer, or got involved in something she shouldn’t have. Honestly, with the amount of information we currently have, I cant tell you. In the mean time, I’ll try see what else I can dig up,”
“And I’ll see if I can get a face to the name,”