Malcolm Midnight

Malcolm Midnight
By Johnathan Michael Juliano

For Malcolm
Who would not rest
Or let me rest
Until I’d told his story

Sometimes I wonder why I do this to myself. Sitting here, burning my eyes out with a computer screen in this dark and awful room, trash on every surface. I should clean it up. Better yet, I should sleep. But where would the fun in that be? After all, sleep is for the weak. So what if I have a busy day tomorrow? So what if its three in the godforsaken morning. Who still sleeps, anyway?

Oh, that’s right. Sane people. Lately I’ve been so far removed from them, I forget they exist. Sanity and normality don’t sit well with me. They never really have. I’d like to believe I’m not quite so abnormal as those psychos you see on the news, storing dead relatives in their fridge, but I am definitely not like everyone else either. They say sane people think they’re going crazy. I don’t know what to think anymore.

Everyone around here calls me Midnight, or Malcolm Midnight. I guess because Malcolm-Five-In-The-God-damned-Morning is too much of a mouthful. My real name is Malcolm Anderson, or so my parents claim. Only they have bothered using it for as long as I can remember. They are the Andersons. I’m just Mal.

The night, or day, or whatever it was by now, was wearing thin, but I wasn’t quite done checking my emails. My eyes darted from left to right and back again, scanning each message to determine the sender, determining the nature of their inquiry, and filing them away in my mind, tucked neatly in the bin labeled “s**t to deal with tomorrow.” It seemed like every underachieving, lazy idiot in the greater phoenix area was looking for someone to proofread their biology paper, double-check their calculus homework, or simply ask for reassurance that the weird little lump on their neck probably wasn’t cancer. I was the Oracle of freakin’ Delphi. And above the entrance to my little cyber-cave, in the header at the top of the page, large black letters in New Times Roman font announced my services to the world.

Got Questions? Ask Mal!
Askmal.com
5 years ago, an unfortunate incident forced me to ask myself a question. How does a seventeen year old drop out with no job experience, no transportation, and well known psychological issues find a source of income that will allow him to pay rent, and keep his loving parents from kicking his useless a*s to the curb? For most people, the answer would be something like “meth lab” or “selling my internal organs” . Again, not most people. My answer was to use the resources I had at my disposal. Namely, a very large amount of varied, detailed, and otherwise quite useless information. And so Askmal.com was born.

My marketing strategy back then, just like now, consisted of having Lisa, the only high school friend who’d speak to me after I dropped out pass around some cheapo fliers. The first thing a visitor sees when coming to my site is a disclaimer, informing them that I make no guarantees as to the absolute factuality or usefulness of information provided, and that by continuing to the main site, they agree to use it at their own risk. With such a sterling business model as this, it’s a miracle anyone ever even bothered typing the address into their search engine. That someone not only did, but also read the disclaimer, clicked continue, and actually submitted a question, baffles me to this day.

Later I learned that first question had come from Mr. Billings, the only teacher at my school who never wrote me off as a failure. Apparently he’d seen some promise in my idea, and he still uses me to this day, mostly as a charity. He also encouraged his students to use the site, “to guide their research,” he’d said, knowing full well most would just ask me to outright take their tests and write their papers for them. I charged five dollars per exchange then, all going straight to a Paypal. Before long, word spread that if you wanted a guaranteed A in any class, Askmal was the place to be. Soon I was getting all types of people, asking all types of random s**t, but it was simple. It was something I could do.

It was destined to explode into a huge mess sooner or later. And that trip wire was eventually set off by a woman named Angela Gomez.

It was two years after I’d created the site. I was nineteen years old, I hadn’t gotten thrown out, I had so little money to my self that I would check my balance after buying a trustbuster, but all in all life did not suck. That’s when a shadow rose to tear down my barely stable life, and its name was Angela Gomez. She asked me to find out where her son had gotten a gun. My heart nearly stopped as soon as I read the word ‘gun’. An alarm began ringing inside my skull, a voice in the back of my mind screamed ABORT! ABORT! I mean, this was a job for the police, I told her as much.

I was just some guy online. That was bombshell number two. She couldn’t go to the police. She wasn’t a legal resident. I got a sinking feeling. This desperate person was asking my help, but what could I really do for her. I was a washout, my website was basically a cross between the world’s sketchiest online tutoring service and Wikipedia for idiots. Just say no, I screamed to myself.

I said yes. I upped my fee, because I’m not that cool but I said yes all the same. I found it too. I got that s**t done. I also ended up getting stabbed by her mildly psycho son, who got arrested for that anyway. Really it didn’t work out too great for anyone. But in the end she wasn’t deported, and she thanked me. It was the first time I had ever done something like that. But not the last.

It happened slowly. Every few months, or so. amid the mountain of trivial crappola that made up my site’s traffic, I would get a job more in line with detective work than online tutoring. Eventually I even made a place just for this sort of thing on my site, calling it premium services. I would typically name a price for these based on what they were. Catch some graffiti artists who keep defacing your building? Fifty bucks.
Find out whether your neighbor is a serial arsonist? Maybe a little more. Again, the word was spreading. I was becoming in demand.

I hated it. First and foremost, I created the site in the first place to make money without being overly involved in society. Now I had people pestering me all the time, coming to me with problems to solve, at all hours of the day. The Gods of Irony are cruel indeed. Not to mention, the police didn’t take kindly to my modus operandi. I could always feel eyes on me.

I continued to scroll along, And stared screen. It was several minutes before I realized I had read the last message for the day, I looked wearily at the time. 4:15 am. Welp, nothing wrong with an early night. Standing, I wobbled across the laundry-strewn floor, and flopped into bed with a thud. I didn’t even bother turning off my computer. Thank you, sleep mode. Tomorrow I was bound for the library, returning a couple books and getting started on the queries I’d received today. Always good to have my beauty sleep when life demands I actually go out in public.

I close my eyes and start to drift, but just then an awful little automatic pinging alerts me that my site just received another message. Who on earth is up at four fifteen? Must be just us whackos by now. I supposed I do owe my fellow mental-patients-to-be some professional courtesy, but just then, I was fresh out of f***s to give. Instead I drift away to dream, muttering under my breath about something or another. I know they’re a bad sign and all, but I think that without the voices in my head, I really would go crazy. I’d have no one to talk to at all.

Soon it was morning, or close enough at least. Right around I don’t give a f**k o’clock. Anyway, the sun was up, and burning a hole in my eyelids through the gap in my curtains that wasn’t there last night.Loud, angry voices were coming from the other room. Oh good, my folks were up. I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to force my way back into the land of dreams. But I was stopped dead in my tracks when the stranger spoke. His voice was deep and practiced, but more importantly, I didn’t know him. That’s never a good sign. I rolled out of my bed and grabbed the least dirty pants and shirt I could find. Before I had the shirt fully on, the man came in without knocking, badge in hand. His partner was in the living room with my parents.

“Hello, are you Malcolm Anderson?” He asked. I nodded, frozen in position with one arm through my shirt. “ I’m officer Wurthers. There was an incident last night. If you’d just come inside and have a seat, Officer Diaz and I would like to ask you a couple of questions.”

F**k my life.

I wandered over to the couch in a dazed, trancelike state and took a seat by my parents, who sat in a sullen angry silence, eyes fixed on the two officers, who stood between the couch and the TV set, facing the family. The air was so thick with anxiety I thought I was going to drown, and I could just about feel the heat radiating from my father in big, furious red waves. My morning was getting off to a wonderful start.

“First off son, do you think you can tell me why we’re here?” Officer Wurthers spoke in an even tone through a thick mustache, and had a permanent glaring frown affixed to his face beneath his dark, square rimmed sunglasses. I immediately assigned him the nickname “Mr. Happy” inside my mind.

“But sir, I thought that was your job.” I really need a leash for this goddamned tongue. The other officer, Diaz, gave me a terse look, but Wurther’s expression didn’t waiver for a moment. I backtracked. “What I meant was, Probably because you have some questions for me?”

“Yes, that was established when we arrived, young man. And I think it may just be in your best interest not to get smart with me just now. I’m having kind of a bad day.” He pulled out a clip board, some kind of report or something like that. “So you don’t know. You sure? Wouldn’t care to hazard a guess?” I shook my head in response.

“Ok then, lets just jump right into question number one. Where were you last night, say between the hours of ten and eleven pm?”

“I was at home. I’m not exactly what you’d call a social butterfly.”

“Is that so? I’d never have guessed. The way I hear it you’re pretty well known around here. I’m new to the area myself, but everybody round here seems to know you, Malcolm, Especially down at the station, You should hear the things they say.” Is he trying to get a rise out of me? Thinking if he gets me angry, I’ll inadvertently confirm that I did whatever he thinks I did? If so he’s wasting his time. And even if I did have something to hide, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “This brings us to question two. Do you currently operate a website called Askmal.com?” I wanted to ask what that had to do with anything, but thought better of it.

“Yes sir, I do. Mostly I just help people with school work, research assignments, family history, just general information stuff like that.” He nodded, scribbled something onto is clipboard, and pulled a small laminated business card out from his pocket, which he handed to me.

“I also hear you advertise your website by handing out cards, just like that one there. Can you confirm that this is one of yours for me?” I turned the small, dark blue card over in my hand, and read the neat, white lettering on the front. “Got Questions? Ask Mal! Askmal.com” I was reminded again of the many virtues of that slogan. It was direct, informative, and said nothing it didn’t have to. I should learn to speak like that in real life. I’d live longer.

“I do. As I said before, I don’t get out much, but when I do, usually to eat or to work on jobs at the library, I take these with me. I also have a friend, Lisa Richards, pass them around.”
So this miss Richards, she’d usually have a pretty steady supply of these?” I nodded. Mr. happy adjusted his glasses and continued. “Well Malcolm, here’s why we’re here. See there was a good ol’ B&E not too far from here. A little family of three, the Kinsleys. Looks like they went in through the daughter’s window, and her room and several others were ransacked pretty good, for loose change, jewelry, all that. Bunch of stuff missing. Most importantly, their seventeen year old daughter, Ellen. We’re treating it as a missin person’s case. That card was found in her bedroom, and her computer was on with your site open when we got the call from the Kinsleys, who got home from a late dinner to find their house wrecked, their daughter missing.”

My heart sank, thinking of the message I’d never checked the night before. I felt insanely guilty, but there probably wasn’t anything I could do. I mean, It was so late when I-

A wayward notion derailed my train of thought with so much force I nearly got whiplash. A question raced to my lips. “What time was this supposed to have happened?” Both officers gave me a strange look, and Diaz seemed about to say something, but Wurthers gestured for him to wait and continued.

“Well her parents got home sometime around eleven, Eleven thirty. We figure it had just happened.” He studied me intently now. “Why do you ask? Had any kind of contact with Ellen Kinsley, Malcolm?”

“No sir, I haven’t.” I kept my breathing calm, and looked him in the eye. Everyone lies. And for me, being able to lie is a survival skill, often the best way to get the information I need.

“Well if you do, be sure to contact us.” He handed me a card with his number. Inside I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh and by the way, you happen to have contact info For this Lisa Richards? Her name came up when we spoke to the Kinsleys , we’d like to ask her a couple questions as well.”

I thought of saying no, but I didn’t want to push my luck. Lisa was gonna have my head on a platter, but I’d have to deal with it. I nodded, borrowed his pen, and wrote her cell on the back of the Askmal card.

Wurthers took the card, inclined his head politely at me and then my parents, still seething, and left with his partner.

“Do you have an explanation for this?” My father’s voice was deep with restrained anger. I wish I had a better answer for him.

“I have to go check my emails. And then I’m going out.” I rose, and started back toward my room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“The library. I have work to do. And if Ellen has left me a message, it might have more information for the police.’ Or more for me at least. Either way, he didn’t press the issue. For my part, I had a hunch I needed to explore. The police said her computer was open, and on my site, but if she’d sent a message for me from it, then the police would have seen it. They said this had happened at eleven. If the message I got last night was from Ellen, she didn’t contact me until 4:15. I went down the hall, to the left, and into my bedroom. The computer seemed to take days to get back up to speed, and when it did I logged right onto my site.

Sure enough, there was a message, sender [email protected]. There was no subject. I opened it, and the message inside threw my mind into a whole new level of confused. I read the short missive several times through, and tried to imagine what it might mean.

“We should meet soon. Not safe just yet. Don’t look for me, I’ll find you. Keep your eyes open, I’ll get you more information as soon as I can. Keep your eyes and ears open.
Ellen.”

I could feel my Weird-s**t-ometer rising steadily toward critical mass, but I could process Ellen’s message later. I had things to do. I whipped out my handy dandy flip phone and brought up my contacts. I sent Lisa a text to meet me at the library in half an hour, and grabbed a notebook and pen on my way out of my room.

When I passed through the living room on my way to the front door, my dad was watching the TV, and mom had vanished to my room. No one said goodbye as I went out into the world for the day.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

I kept my eyes down as I walked through my neighborhood, over cracked concrete, across the street at the stop sign where my block ended. I could see the library from here already, but I took a longer route. I had one thing to do before I met with Lisa, at our usual spot on the 3rd floor.

Across the street, houses began giving way to apartment structures and shops of various description. Between the buildings were deep alleys, scattered with trash and graffiti. From one of those alleys, An old black bum called out to me, smiling. Just the man I wanted to see.

“Hey mista, Spare some change?” I walked up, and he clapped one of his large hands over my shoulder in greeting. I pulled out a quarter and flipped it into the air. He snatched it with a snake-quick hand.

“There you go, Dave. Don’t spend it all in one place.” He laughed that old whistling laugh of his.

”Ah man midnight! Don’t you know that joke’s older than the both of us? S’pose you ain’t smart enough at come up with nothin’ new though.” Dave spoke with an oddly effeminate voice, despite his large frame and wiry beard. He wore, as he always wore, a ratty blue shirt, Worn and patched jeans, and shoes to old whatever color they’d once been was impossible to distinguish. For reasons I can’t imagine, he also wore, summer or winter, a large, battered jacket with no hood, as worn and dirty as his shoes, but which once might have born a camo pattern.

“So what brings you out such a fine day as this? It musta been a month since I saw you ‘round and about in daylight. Got yourself a case, Mr. Detective?” We must make a sorry sight, me and Dave. God knows what all the good, respectable people must think, watching me chat it up with some bum off the street. Well, f**k respectable people. Dave’s my friend, and he’s been with me for the long run. Old fool even comes in handy once in a blue moon. Can’t tell him that. His head would swell up so big even his shoulders couldn’t carry it.

“Looks like I just might. I might even be a suspect, isn’t that just awesome?” Sarcasm, be thou my armor. “Well, more like Lisa, but anyway. Seems one of us broke into a house, wrecked some s**t, and kidnapped a teenage girl. Busy night, huh?” Dave’s smile fell a little.

“You good, Malcolm? I mean, you got this, right. Nothing you ain’t done before.” I gave him a nod.

“Yeah, but listen Dave, I got a hunch on this one.” I could tell him about Ellen’s message once I knew more, but for now I held on to that one. “Keep an eye out for me would you? See anything strange, you let me know, sound good.”

“Well, it just so happens I’m lookin at somethin pretty strange just now.” Another whistle of laugher . “Yeah, I got you, midnight. I’ll keep an eye out for ya. So where you heading now?”

“I need to meet with Lisa at the Library, give her the good news.” I patted his shoulder in farewell, and strode off. As I was about to turn the corner, I shouted to him without looking back. “Hey, check your shoulder, looks like you got something in your jacket.” I heard him shout his thanks as I walked on. Guess he got the twenty I left him.

Before too long, I was walking through the doors of the Burton Barr Library, though the main hall, and up the elevator to the top floor. As I walked past the long gray tables, past people reading their various books, I saw her sitting at our usual table, by the window, ever present medical textbook open in front of her. Lisa Richards, in all her frizzy haired, four eyed, sleep deprived glory.

“Hello, freak,” she said, with her usual half joking condescension. “You know, just when I was thinking I was gonna have a nice, quiet day, I get a text from you. Never fails. So, what do you need? More of those damn cards for me to pass out, right.” I took my seat opposite her, and shook my head slightly.

“Not right now. In fact, you should stop passing the ones you have for now. Oh, and I should probably start by saying, you’ll probably get a call from the police soon. I need to know” Her eyebrow gave a menacing twitch, and I could here the grinding as she grit her teeth.

“What the hell did you do this time!” I wonder if it makes me a bad person, finding her anger to be, well, kind of funny. I half grin in response. She can’t really blame me. I just laugh at life’s cruel ironies, not cause them.

“Oh, thank you so much for the heads up, Mal. I really appreciate it,” I said mockingly. Our routine was so worn by now I couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to imitate her voice. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything. They came to me this morning. Apparently some girl is missing. Some Ellen Kinsley, I think it was. But, I have a strange feeling-”

“Wait, Ellen Kinsley!? And you’re sure that was the name?” She went from apathetic to mildly distraught in nothing, flat. “When did this happen.”

“ Her parent’s found her missing around 11.She had my card, and her computer was on my site. Her parent’s mentioned your name to the police, it seems.”

“Damn it. That was probably because of that stupid fight.”

“Wait, So you know her?” This day was getting better and better. This whole ordeal was going to give me a headache for the rest of my life.

“From school. And yeah, I gave her a card a while back. She’s only seventeen, but she graduated high school early, so I see her around at ASU. Stuck up little know it all. I was planning on getting that card back from her, telling her to figure s**t out on her own.”

“Wait, what was all of this about? I’m confused.” I decided to think about the details later. First I had to tell her about the message. I couldn’t tell Dave yet, but Ellen should know that the girl may not actually have been taken, or else she’d just stew in her guilt. “Do you know where she usually goes after school? Anywhere I could start looking?”

“Its not like we were friends or anything. But I remember someone saying her uncle manages a McDonalds around here. I think it’s the one by 7th street and McDowell.”

“Thank you, Lisa.” Those three words elicited a bizarre, almost concerned look from her.

“What did you say, and you feeling ok?”

“Look, I mean it. And one more thing you should know…” Just then her phone rang, and Lisa’s face hardened into granite. “Oh shoot, that’ll be them. I really should go.” I beat a hasty, undignified retreat, down the elevator and out of the library.

The afternoon was wearing on. The beating sun reminded me of one of the many reasons I hated going out at this time of day. I wanted to crawl back into my nice, cool, shadowy bedroom, but instead I was heading toward 7th and McDowell. Maybe taking to her Uncle could give me a better idea of who this Ellen Kinsley really was, and shed light on what had really happened.

The whole way I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. For me, that’s business as usual, but there was something different about the feeling this time, there was an edge to it. I pushed that hungry little paranoia demon to the back of my skull, and moved forward. Somewhere, I thought I heard the buzzing of a small electric engine, but when I looked around, there was nothing, just the usual few people on the street, silently judging the pariah among them, of course, but whatever.

My mental landscape painted vivid conspiracy theories upon the surface of my mind, distracting me so that I hardly realized it when my destination came into view. As a 20-something with limited funds, living in the area, I was familiar with this place. When Lisa had mentioned the manager, I could remember the man, slightly pudgy, blonde, 30ish. I saw him now, outside the restaurant arguing with another man, a few years older, with hair that was going grey at the top, and square, dark-rimmed glasses. Kinsley and Kinsley, I presume.

I walked casually toward the door, past the arguing pair. I avoided looking directly at them-easy, since I usually avoid looking directly at anyone-but covertly I strained to catch pieces of their conversation.

“…find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll…I’ll…”

“Do you really think I’d do anything to endanger my niece?”

“I don’t know what you’d do, Kevin! I don’t even know who you are!” And then I was at the door. I walked through without listening for more. I repeated the words I’d caught under my breath while a heavy-set couple in front of me made up their mind over the number of big macs they’d need to satiate their ample frames for the night. When they’d finished, I ordered a drink and a large fries, And sat down in the corner both by the window to transcribe their conversation, and everything I knew so far.

People came and went, and the voice in the back of my mind whispered about how they were all looking at me, judging me. I ate my fries half heartedly, sipped on my drink, and told the journal everything. I wrote about The police, about Ellen’s message. I recounted my conversation with Lisa, with Dave. I transcribed the short exchange I heard before coming inside, hell, I even wrote about my feelings of being watched on the way here, for all the good that would do. I wrote for a good two hours, playing with theories, organizing my thoughts, then scrambling them up and organizing them again.

Finally, I rose, and threw away my empty cup and fry box. I passed a grim face Kevin, coming in as I was going out, and stepped into the waning day, No closer to a conclusion than I’d been before. Somewhere, and this time I was sure, I heard the whirr of a small electric engine.

I really was losing my damned mind. That thought followed me, from the lengthening shadows all the way home.
_____________________________________________________________________________________


Alone in my room, I talked to my self and my notes about what to do next. Based on what I knew, it seemed that Ellen was in some form of imminent peril, even if she hadn’t been kidnapped. My working theory was that her uncle was a subject of interest. If I could find out why he and her father were fighting today, Maybe I could fit this big ugly, messed up jigsaw together.

The first step would be to find out more about Ellen’s relationship to her uncle. His co workers were a good place to start, particularly the night shift, since Ellen was a student, and it would stand to reason that would be the time she’d be able to hang at a fast food joint. Come to think of it, chances are I’d been there the same time as her, never even knowing it. We might have passed right by each other

I already knew precisely the burger jockies I wanted to ask. Dipshits 1&2, Jake Lorde and John Masters. We had a history, you could say. I busted them for tagging profanity on billboards all over town, and I even ousted Jake for pick pocketing around town. I never went to the police, but because of me, all the local businesses knew to watch them carefully. I guess you could say I targeted them for selfish reasons. Damn right I did. We’ve had it out for each other since high school.
I decided I’d speak to those upstanding young societal representatives tomorrow, about their boss, his niece, anything they might know. It may be reaching, and more than a little biased, but I was also not ruling out the possibility of them being involved in whatever all this was about. Something about Ellen’s message, her fight with Lisa, the familial drama, it felt somehow too big to all be tied back to one person.

Ok, that’s enough conscious thought for one day. I shut the notebook, set it on the desk, turned off my bedroom light, and flopped face first into my bed. Cars from beyond my window threw light and shadows on the wall. I turned to my side and watched them dance, taking shapes of demons straight from hell, or maybe men with guns, coming to silence a poor slob who got too curious. I heard voices, whispering incoherent secrets, demanding things from me. I shut them out. I didn’t need to hear them if I didn’t want to, right. After all, they weren’t real.

And what the hell, even if they were, they could come and get me. Take me out of this place. Dead men didn’t have to care, they never had people begging for help. It was a release. It was peace. It was absolutely not an option. I shouldn’t even think that way. But it was getting harder to remember why. Slowly, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

What felt like maybe ten seconds later, but was probably a couple hours, I sprang awake again. My ears were ringing. Oh wait, that was the phone. I groggily stood up and answered it. “What’s up, you don’t need bail, do you?”

“A*****e.” Lisa’s usual terse greeting unnerved me a little, mostly her voice. It sounded liked she’d been crying. “You’re such an a*s Midnight. Maybe you like the way you live, but did you ever think that maybeI never wanted to be involved in all this? In all your bootlegged Sherlock Holmes bullshit!?”

“Lisa, what happened? Talk to me, did you get arrested, are you in trouble, what? If you need me I can be there right now.” It was still full dark, who knew what time, but whatever. Sleep is for the weak, anyway.

“No, Malcolm. I don’t want you here right now, I’d just punch you in the face. “ I heard her take a deep, steadying breath. “The cops think I’m involved. My own damned fault, I never should have gone to her house. Stupid, STUPID!”

“Wait, you went to her house? Why?”

“”At first, we got along, you know. We talked all the time. But she started asking more and more about… well you. She wanted to get you involved in something, through Askmal. It was stupid, and dangerous.” She was speaking so quickly, like she hated the taste of her words, needed to get them out as soon as possible. She wasn’t even pausing to breathe. “It was exactly the kind of thing you’d jump at, I knew it. Went to her house, I told her to stay the hell away from me and you both. I mean, you don’t need to keep sticking your nose in s**t like that.”

Ok, that was about enough. I was mad. “What give you the right to decide what I do with my life? I make my decisions, I decide what jobs I take on my site, not you!” Now I was the one steadying myself with a breath. “Lisa, I need you to be honest, that was all that happened? You didn’t do anything else you shouldn’t have?”

“Mal, what do you think…No. Of course not. I’m… I’m sorry.” Well, that’s a first. I let my anger drain away. “Just please, tell me you know something.”

“Ok. I know something. First things first, Ellen wasn’t kidnapped, at least I don’t think so. She did contact me around the time she went missing, but not that night. It was around four that morning. She didn’t give me any info, she just said she’d be in touch.”

“What? That’s so bizarre.”

“Yeah. Nothing new on that yet. But I went over to her Uncle’s Mcdonalds. I saw him fighting with her father. Apparently Mr. Kinsley thinks dear old uncle has something to do with her disappearance. I’m going to ask some of the workers if they have an idea why, starting with Jake and John tomorrow.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be involved in my ‘bootlegged Sherlock Holmes bullshit’.”

“I don’t even want you involved. But now you are, so I am too.” I don’t think I’ll ever understand what I did to earn tat kind of loyalty. Just wish I knew how to tell her how grateful I am. Still, not sure I wanted her tagging along, just in case I was running headlong into trouble, as per usual, but its not like she’d listen to me anyway.

“Tomorrow. Its still tomorrow, right? I don’t even know what time it is.”

“It’s almost midnight. I just got out of my night job.”

“Midnight, huh? Good morning.” That made her laugh. I smiled despite myself. “Well, I’m gonna let you go. Probably not getting back to sleep anytime soon, might check the site, write a bio essay for some poor sap, something like that.”

“Hey… Can you just stay a little longer. Just, you know… Talk to me?” It’s amazing how quickly her moods can change. Hard to believe she called originally more or less to yell at me. The ever changing Lisa Richard, what would I do without her.

“Yeah. I can do that. For a few minutes at least.”

It was almost two by the time we hung up. Lisa could hardly stay awake long enough to say goodnight, just sort of mumbled it. I hung up the phone, set it down, and was about turn on the computer and get strarted on that biology essay or whatever someone probably needed done, when it rang again. I answered.

“Lisa, you really need to get some sleep.”

Hello, Malcolm.” My heart jumped into my throat. That wasn’t Lisa’s voice, but I had a pretty good idea whose it was. “I told you I’d be in touch.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________

I wanted to answer , but unfortunately my tongue seemed to have crawled to the back of my throat to die. I should have expected this call, but for some reason, I hadn’t. But to be fair, who really expects any kind of called at two in the morning. But the strangest thing was how lightly she spoke. By her voice, she might as well have been making a perfectly normal social call. Whatever was happening, and whatever potential danger she was in, Ellen was completely care free.

“Malcolm, are you there? I’m sorry for the time, but then I hear you keep odd hours anyway.” She signed to herself. “That’s fine, I don’t really sleep much either.

“Wh-why are you calling me? Where are you? What the hell is going on?”

“I thought that was you’re job. You’re Mal, right? I have something to ask you. I was going to use your site, but… something came up. I want you to figure out what. That’s my question.”

“Why would you want me to answer that when you clearly already know? You tell me what the f**k is going on, or as much as you know, and we go from there.”

“You know, I thought about that. This is what I was thinking- If you can’t figure out as much as I did or more on your own, why do I need your help? “ What an irritating, arrogant, clever little brat. It made perfect sense, and she was right, but I hated being knowingly kept in the dark, or manipulated. This must be what Lisa feels like talking to me.

“So you want me to solve a mystery that you’ve already solved, why? So you can decide if I’m worthy to even try to solve the one you haven’t? Who do you think you are?”

“Whether or not I’ve figured it out is not the question. I want to see what you think of all this. You may think society hates you, but there are a lot of people out here consider you some kind of genius. That’s the kind of person who’s help I need.”

I kept angrily chasing my thoughts around my skull. She was pissing me off, but she knew what buttons to press. She was playing on my ego. I wanted to solve her riddle, to throw the answer in her face. But what got me the most was this other mystery, this other case She wouldn’t even tell me about. That was the thing that ultimately decided it. “I’ll do it. I’m working on it no in fact.”

“That’s good. We’ll discuss payment when you‘ve come to your conclusion. Have a good night, and good luck. I‘ll be watching. “ Click. The silence of the night flooded back, leaving me to wander dumbly through my jumbled, tumultuous mind. And what did she mean I’ll be watching? How the hell did she get my number anyway? This was really starting to suck.

Sleep was out of the question. Working on other cases, forget about it. I needed to do something, to get out, even if it was just to wander. I could not just sit there with my thoughts. A few minutes after Ellen had hung up, I was skulking through phoenix, aimlessly at 3 am.

They say that New York in the city that never sleeps, but the truth is all major cities have at least a minor case of insomnia. Even in the earlier morning gloom, I was not the only person moving among the shadows of the buildings, along sidewalks, past unopened shops, restaurants, apartment buildings and real estate offices. Drunks stumbling home, still lost in an alcoholic buzz passed by empty eyed derelicts, and I moved past all of them, directionless and silent. Within my mind, I turned the situation over again and again, looking for any new insight. I was so absorbed in thought, that when someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me into an alley and behind a dumpster, I didn’t even notice until after they clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my scream.

It was Dave. He gestured with a finger to his lips for me to be quiet, and then lead me deeper into the alley before he spoke, with a hushed and serious tone. “What the hell you think you’re doing, Midnight?”

“What am I doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He just gave me a hard look, like someone scolding a disobedient pet.

“You said to keep my eyes open. Know what I see? That you ain’t the only one with eyes and ears out here. Someone else is lookin for your girl. Someone with money. And they ain’t trying to let you get her first.” He pointed to the mouth of the alley. There, in the meager light of the streetlamp, I saw a man in dark clothes and a wide brimmed hat walking slowly past our hiding place. I pressed against the wall, and tried to keep my heart from doing its best impersonation of a new Orleans drum line as the man glanced this way and that before moving on, as casually as he could. “It aint safe out here, man. So I say again, what the hell are you doing.”

“I… I needed to walk. Clear my mind. Dave, this is some seriously deep s**t I’ve landed in.” As the man faded from sight, Dave seemed to relax a bit, but his voice stayed barely above a whisper.

“You don’t gotta tell me, man. There’s one thing I know, its what deep s**t looks like.” Dave exhaled deeply, his eyes fixed, looking a thousand miles away. From within his jacket pocket he pulled a pack of papers and a small plastic sack full of small green buds. A couple of seconds later, his nimble fingers produced a thin, tightly rolled joint. “Gotta clear your mind, right man?” He sparked it, inhaled deeply, and held it out to me. I took it gratefully, and filled my lungs. The feeling of relaxation was palpable. My speeding heart calmed to a low roar in just a few moments. “Thanks man. Needed that.” I took another hit and handed it back. “So, what did you mean before, when you said someone else was looking for Ellen. Who, why?”

“Out here, people talk man. Its all we got to do. And if someone’s asking questions to anyone on the streets, they gonna spread that word. Never seen the guy, guys, whatever, but I hear they’s always wearing a hat and dark glassed, sometimes a mask. Weird s**t right? Anyway they put the word out, they’ll pay for any info on a teenaged girl, wanderin the city, moving at night. Brown hair, bout 5’2. And they pay again for any info on what you’re up to, or what you know? So keep your head down, man. Get some damn sleep, don’t be out here at night.” His concern should have been a comfort, but honestly it was grating on my nerves. It reminded me of Lisa, and her going behind my back to keep Ellen away from me. I didn’t need their protection, their concern. Life’s easier when no one gives a f**k. I watched him exhale his second hit, and took the joint again.

I took a drag, coughed. Lightheadedness set in, and my tension subsided a little. “Listen, I’m touched, but I need to be out here. I can’t just sit in my room doing squat. There’s a hornet’s nest out here in need of a good kick. Don’t worry about me, Dave. I’m not afraid.”

“That’s what’s got me worrying.” Yeah, this was pissing me off. Time for a change of subject.

“Masks. What kind of masks?” He wasn’t fooled by the diversion, but at least he’d dropped the protective grampa shtick. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

“A blank white face, that cheap plastic s**t you get on Halloween, ya know? Heard of this before, from time to time. Weird dudes in white masks, sellin s**t round town, no one knows who for. Guns, drugs.” I passed the joint back. It was slowly becoming a roach.

“Anonymous wannabes. I’ll find out what’s going on here. I’m not afraid of mooks in masks.” Things were starting to take shape. I could see the muddy outline coming into a sharper focus, little by little. An organization of ill intent. Tensions in the family. An overly curious daughter with no sense of rational fear. Once I knew more about the family, and the uncle specifically, this would all fall into place. The joint made its final migration back into my hand. I took my last two hits. It was getting close to 5. The sun would rise in not too much time. Summer in the city, a new day coming into the light. I hoped that light would illuminate the shadows. It was about time I left, maybe get home, maybe hit up someplace with a dollar menu. “If its alright with you, man, I’m heading out. I’ll be careful.”

Dave gave me a hard look, then a curt nod. “You do that, Midnight. Oh, and, take this.” He tossed me the small sack holding the remainder of his bud. “You got one hellova week in front of you.” I shoved it into my pocket. Dave and I bid fair well, and I left the alley from the opposite side I’d entered.

Somewhere with a dollar menu. For sure.
_____________________________________________________________________________________


Most people think of a recluse as someone who never leaves home. In most instances, that would probably be right. However, living with my parents, its never easy for me to be truly isolated there. Its easier to be alone out in the sea of faceless strangers, then it is in my little box, constantly subject to their judgment. In the world, people pass by, but no one is truly invested in you. No one notices your presence, as long as it doesn’t directly effect them. I’ve become an old hand at drifting unnoticed through life, and the rest of the morning, after I left Dave, I did just that. I drifted through town, in and out of unimportant places, waiting for time to pass. Every so often I’d hear that strange whirring sound again, and before long, I’d even caught a glimpse of the source.

I was walking along on my way from taco bell toward the park where I was meeting up with lisa, when it caught my eye. A remote controlled drone with a lightweight grey frame and four helicopter like propellers. For my money, there was a camera mounted on it somewhere. That must be what she meant by keeping an eye on me. It made sense, in her crazy little world, at least. This was all a test for me, so why not watch me and see how I do. Nosy and arrogant, a great combo. I watch indignantly as the flying stalker-mobile zips behind a building at out of view. I silently promised myself to be strong enough not to strangle this girl when I finally met her face to face.

That was for another time though. My more pressing concern was meeting up with Lisa at the small park/seating area on Roosevelt and 3rd, and waiting for Jake and John. Thanks to help from one of Lisa’s classmates, the boys were coming here, and they wouldn’t have to go looking at all.
I walked up to the park, past the whimsical sign pointing to various Roosevelt row attractions, and over to the far side of the park, towards the large red and blue sculpture and seating area, where Lisa sat in one of the built in park benches.

“Well, you look like s**t. Long night I guess.” She looked almost apologetic. “Thanks for last night.” I was taken aback, but did my best to play it off.

“It was nothing, anytime.” I stretched my arms and back, and let out a yawn. “I wasn’t able to sleep after, either. Something came up, sort of a long story.”

“I won’t ask. Lets just focus on this.” My mind summoned an image of men in white masks, holding guns. I wasn’t worried for myself but her.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” She gave a nod that said with confidence I couldn’t make her leave if I tried. “Alright. They should be here soon, and the sooner we finish here the sooner we figure all this out and the sooner I can get back to English papers and calculus homework. ” we both settled in, our eyes fixed on the small green lawn of the park. From inside the large sculpture bench, is was like looking out through a ribcage, or a brightly colored prison cell.

We sat, keeping watch for about half an hour, being mildly bored and both irritably tired. Lisa was starting to chew on her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. And then I saw the payoff. Two young men, one tall and thin as a reed with short and blonde hair, walking almost in step with the other, who was shorter, chubbier but not quite fat, and had longish black hair, pulled back into one of those ridiculous looking man-bun things. Hello, Jake and John.

They stop at the corner, looking puzzled. Jake, the tall one, pulls out his phone to check the time. “Yo, where is she?” I take that as my cue. Better go say hello, clear up the confusion. Lisa stayed seated, reading something on her own phone, lost to the world. But she gives my sleeve a small tug before I walk over to them.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, not looking up. I give a half hearted nod of agreement, and step out of the structure. Jake and John look confused at first, and then both start to chuckle a bit as I walk across the lawn.

“Oh, I see now.” Jake said with a derisive chuckle, shaking his head. “That was you, huh freak? A little trick from Mr. detective.” He and John both stepped forward to meet me. “What do you want, don’t you have some house to go haunt.”

“I’m not here for a fight, just a conversation.”

“Then ask us to come yourself, don’t hide behind your little girlfriend.” John looked over to the structure I’d come out of. “You back there Lisa? Sure you are, your pet freak needs his babysitter. I know you had Sky text me to come here. Don’t worry, me and her, we’ll talk about this when we finish here.” These two were just the same, all talk. John got a kick out of mocking me, but we both knew what happened last time he pushed too hard. Lisa gave no reply. It wasn’t easy to get a rise out of her. Me, on the other hand.

“Like I said, I’m not here to fight. I just want to talk about your manager, and his niece.” They weren’t worth the energy it would take, I tell myself. It gets harder to listen to the longer I have to look at their faces, smug and mocking.

“Yeah, I did hear something about that. Word around town was you snatched the b***h while her parents were out getting hammered.” Jake was maintaining his authority as a*****e number one, here. He stepped up and leaned right up to my face, trying to intimidate. All he really accomplished was displaying his dire need for a breath mint. “So what you got her locked in your closet or something, sicko? You playing up this whole investigator bullshit, covering you tracks?”

At this point John stepped forward too, and walked past me toward where Lisa was sitting. I made a move to stop him, but Jake grabbed me by my shoulders. “Where are you going? I thought we were having a conversation, Mal. Well, John is gonna grab Lisa real quick, bring her over here, and we’ll have us a conversation.” Breathe Mal, Breath. Don’t do anything stupid, Don’t do anything stupid. The phrase runs on repeat in my head again and again. I glance back to see John roughly escorting a clearly very unhappy Lisa over to the group.

“Let go of me, a*****e!” She Pushes him off of her and walks to my side of her own volition. Jake claps my shoulders hard once, and then puts his hands to his sides again.

“So, now everybody’s here, this is what’s going to happen. Tell us what you want to know, and we’ll go from there.” Go from there sounded less like “give you any information that may be helpful,” and more like “beat the s**t out of you while Lisa watches.” I hoped they weren’t stupid enough to try it. I hoped they would remember last time, back in school. But to be honest, there was a part of me that really, really wanted them to try it. A voice in the back of my head was just begging for an excuse.

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened to this girl. I think it might have something to do with her uncle, I saw him arguing with her dad the other day about his disappearance.”

“How should we know, he’s just the boss. Why do you give a damn anyway.”

“Its my job.” They laughed at that, long and hard.

“Your job!? Your job is a f*****g joke. You think you’re so smart, your just another loser dropout.” That was John. Jake took a back seat for a moment. While they both enjoyed pissing me off, it was John and I who had the real history. “You haven’t changed at all, Mal. You try and try to prove that you matter, but you don’t. You quit in high school, and before too long you’ll quit your pathetic website, because that’s what you do. When it comes right down to it, you cut and run.”

“I didn’t quit because I wanted to, and you damn well know it. This is going no where. Lisa, lets get out of here.” I turned to walk away from them, but Jake moved to block my path.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about your site. Charging people to ask questions. I like that. I think I’ll do they same. That’ll be fifty bucks, Midnight.” And here it comes. That voice in my head was about to get what it wanted.

“I’m not paying you for refusing to tell me anything. Get out of my way, Jake.” He nodded, shrugged his shoulders, and began to step aside, but pivoted at the last moment, slamming a fist into the side of my head. I staggered back, more stunned than hurt. I’ve been told more than our I have a remarkably thick skull. From the corner of my temporarily impaired vision, I saw John grab for Lisa, but she threw back an elbow into his ribs and ran for it.

Jake was coming at me again, but this time I got my hands up in time to block. I slipped two more punches and kneed him in the stomach once before John tackled me from behind and threw me to the ground. As I went down I saw Lisa running down the street. The last truly coherent thought I had for the next several minutes was at least she was out of harm’s way.
_____________________________________________________________________________________


I’m sitting in the back of Mr. Billings’ history class, pretending to still be working on the surprise test he gave us as soon as we sat down. Really, I finished a while ago. Tests are easy. Everything in school is easy.

What I’m really doing is copying my own answers onto a piece of note paper on my lap, under my desk. Mr Billings, bespectacled, balding, and kinda fat, isn’t paying attention to me, he’s going around the front of the class, seeing if anyone needs help. I feel a little pang of guilt, knowing he thinks I’m above helping the other students cheat. I used to think I was too. But really, what’s the point of having talent, which he so often says I do, if I don’t help people?

My friend Johnny, in the desk to my right, lightly kicks the chair of my desk, and motions for me to pass him the paper. I kick his leg, whisper “quite!” and quickly finish the last couple sentences before very carefully passing the paper under his desk. He copied it hastily before crumbling the cheat sheet into a tight ball and stuffing it into his pocket.

I glanced back to Mr. Billings, who was helping a lanky young man with longish brown hair and a pink floyd t-shirt grasp the finer points of the French revolution, and that’s when I noticed her staring. I’d seen her watching me before. A girl with very frizzy hair, dark but not quite black, and glasses that never sat quite right on the bridge of her nose. I think her name might have been Lisa. She saw me, and that I had seen her, and quickly returned her attention to her paper.

I rose my hand, told the teacher I was finished, and spent the remainder of class wondering what was so interesting about little old me. After an acceptable interval, Johnny turned in his work as well, and we joked back and forth, as quietly as we could, until class was dismissed and it was time for lunch.


For me, lunch started where it always did, not in line, waiting for my daily supply of whatever quote unquote food was on offer today, but rather at the water fountain, taking my pills. Since I could remember, I’d taken Adderall twice a day, at the urging of my psychiatrist. More recently, I’d been prescribed depakote once daily at noon. Between them, they kept my mental chemistry in balance, theoretically. Near as I could tell, all they really did was make me very tired and very suggestible. To be honest, I hated them. But my doctor, my teachers, and most importantly my parents, repeatedly told me I had to take them, and so I did, every single day.

Today, it seemed, I had company at the fountain. As I approached, I saw the girl from history, Lisa Whatever-her-name-is, leaning against the wall next to it, looking bored and irritable. Her long hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she had a pair of glasses with thick lenses, and there was a book tucked under her arm.

“I told Mr. Billings.” Her tone was matter of fact, like she didn’t care one way or another how I’d react.

“What?! F**k, Johnny’s gonna be so piseed…Why?!”

“I don’t know, why do you cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat, I knew all the answers. I was just helping a friend.” she shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and stood up from the wall, stretching an arm.

“What do you mean. You don’t have any friends.” Her casual tone was beginning to grate.
“First off, that’s not true. And second, you’re one to talk. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you talk to anyone.”

“True. I don’t have many friend, but at least I don’t let people use me to pretend I do.” That cut deep. I had never even thought of it, but it was true I was always going out of my way for my friends. But what was wrong with that, that was just friends do.

“Why are you just coming to me and saying this stuff. You don’t even know me.”

“But I know Johnny. I know he’s always doing something stupid. I was just giving you a heads up, so you don’t get dragged into it.”

Yeah,, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Now let me take my pills in peace.” She shrugged again, and walked off toward the lunch line. All thought of not trusting my friends left with her. I had brought lunch, a sandwich and a bag of chips, the same as every day, so I skipped the line and headed out to the tables to find Johnny.

I saw him sitting at a distant table one of the kids from Billing’s history class, the one in the pink Floyd shirt. I think his name’s Jake. As it turned out, It was Jake, and he was failing math. So was Johnny, on account of cheating. Strangely, Both of them seemed not the least bit upset by the news. Instead they were cracking jokes and laughing,. I took a seat.

“Hey Mal, How’s it going?”

“Well, could be worse. I’m sorry about Billings failing you.”

“Water under the bridge my friend. Me and my buddy here came up with a new plan, and you’re gonna help us.” For some reason I couldn’t say, I hesitated a moment. In that moment something that might have been annoyance flashed across Johnny’s face.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, speaking a little too quickly. “So what’s the plan?”

“The there of us are going to change the scores. And the plan is your department, smart guy. We know you can do it.”

**********

My thoughts came back in a blur of activity. I don’t know when or how but I’d gotten back on my feet. John was stumbling back. Slowly I began to feel the deep aching in my ribs, where I’d been kicked, but for now a heavy wave of adrenaline washed over the pain. I kept throwing punches, kept him moving back. I was so absorbed in the exchange, I almost didn’t notice when Dave joined the fight, hurling Jake to the ground as he tried to flank me. John tried a desperate kick, But I caught it, pinned it under my arm, and wrestled him to the ground.

I was not ok. I was not going to stop. All the anger in my life, every moment I’d done nothing when I should have acted, every time I’d been used by people, it was all bubbling to the surface. I have no idea how many times I hit him. By the time Dave had finally pulled me off of him, John had a black eye, a bad cut on the bridge of his nose, and his jaw was starting to swell. As that heaven sent adrenal rush slowly began to run its course, I began to feel evidence that I didn’t look much better. Dave was pulling me to my feet. I felt him pick the small sack from my pocket, and a slight sense of dread took hold. I had a feeling I knew what that meant.

In the meantime, I looked back to Johnny. “So what do you know about Kevin Kinsley.” The tough guy act had vanished. This was all starting to feel nostalgic. From the corner of my eye I saw Lisa standing nearby. She must have brought Dave. I remind myself fervently that sometimes its good to have friends.
John all but whimpers his response. “Money… It was about money. Kevin’s horrible with it. It was gambling…A loan… I don’t know, but he was in deep. Elllan’s dad…” He has to pause to cough, jerking at the jolt of pain it causes his jaw. Just seeing it hurts. “I hear he’s loaded. He thinks Maybe Ellan was kidnapped for a ransom.”

“There,” I said, bitterly. I could hear the sirens approaching now. I knew it was coming. Moments later the squad car pulled up, and who could it be but the dynamic duo themselves, officers Mr.Smiley Wurthers and Silence Diaz.

“Well, Hello there, Mister Anderson. I see we’ve been having a good morning, boys.” He glanced over each of us, and winced when he looked at John’s face. ‘Well, some more than others. We’re going to need you both to come with us. And ms Richards, you’d best be getting home. Don’t want anyone to wonder what you’re doing.” Me and Dave allow ourselves to be taken, put in cuffs, Mirandized, and lead to the back of the car. Lisa reluctantly follows the officer’s demand, and walks away. I see Diaz standing by the unfortunate wise guys, talking to someone on a phone. Probably calling Jake and John’s parents to let them know what happened.

David leaned over, and whispered to me, “You remember I said I knew deep s**t when a saw it? Yeah, well I sure do see it now.”

I wasn’t as concerned as I should have been. My mind was working on the new information already. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could talk to Kevin Kensley. And the sooner I did that, the closer I’d be to solving Ellen’s little riddle.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Being walked through a police station was strange feeling, and it never seemed to grow less strange, no matter how many times I’d been here before. Somehow it reminded me of high school. Maybe it has something to do with all the muscle headed-oafs looking at me like I was either some kind of food product, or heretofore unknown kind of punching bag. I could understand why tensions were running high. As far as they knew, they had a kidnapping on their hands, no real clues, and a local eccentric ho wouldn’t stop poking his nose into it.

Dave walked upright beside me, carrying himself well. He looked at this place with resigned familiarity. The older I get, the more I do my work, the more I can relate to how he feels. We follow officers Wurthers and Diaz to the holding cell, wearing the faces of men who wish it was their first time in a police station. Inside, are two other people, both sitting in separate corners, not looking at the new arrivals. Absently I wonder who they might be. Diaz opens the cell door, and ushers Dave inside. I move to follow him, but the door shuts in front of me.

“All in due time, Mr. Anderson” Wurthers turned and motioned for me to follow him. “First, I think you and me aught to have a little talk.” The officers lead me to a small grey room, with little in it but a table with two metal folding chairs on either side. Officer Wurthers took a seat on one side and gestured for me to sit opposite. Diaz stood by the door. As was beginning to wonder if he was some kind of mute.

“Vigilantism just wasn’t doing it for ya anymore I guess, huh, Malcolm? Figured you’d add assault to the list?”

“Jake Hit me first. I acted in self defense.” This was trouble. Exactly the kind I had to avoid. Fighting them was a huge mistake. Now all I could do was mitigate the damage.


“See, while I was taking care of you and your friend, Officer Diaz was kind enough to get me a statement from those young men back there and they tell it a little different. “ I glanced to Diaz, and was surprised by his expression. His face contorted, if only for a moment, showing briefly that the proclamation did not please him. “see, the way they tell it, they got a call to meet a friend, but instead you ambushed them and attacked, then interrogated them for information about their manager, the missing girl’s uncle. You afraid of something ol’ uncle Kevin might have to say?” Through the corner of my eye, I saw Diaz shake is head slightly, as if to say ‘tell him nothing’. I was confused, but gave him a nod of understanding.

“I didn’t ambush anyone. I just wanted to talk to her uncle about ellen.”

“Well you can talk to us about that. It is an active investigation ya know.”

“I don’t really know too much. “ I would have said more, but he cut in.

“I think its best we keep it that way.” Wurthers rose and it looked like it was time to head back to the cell. But then Diaz cleared his throat and spoke.

“I would like to have a word with Mr Anderson in private. It won’t take long, mike.”

“He’s all yours.” I’ll be right out here if you need me. Be good now, Midnight!” The metal door shut behind him with a soft thud.

Something changed about Diaz, almost the second his partner left the room. It was as if he could breath easier. I had my suspicions why that might be. Time to put them to the test. “ Wurthers is dirty.” I was reasonably certain that he was, at least. And that Diaz knew about it. That, or my conspiracy detector was on the fritz again. Diaz didn’t react at first. After a very long, heavy silence, diaz let out a sigh that sounded like defeat.

“You know, my partner doesn’t like you much. And neither do I.” Diaz took a step forward and loomed over me. I was beginning to feel I may have made a terrible miscalculation. “You don’t know me, but I know you, Mal.” He spat my name like a curse. I’m rather familiar with people doing that, but just now it made me uncomfortable. I am, after all, terribly allergic to severe beatings. He got right in my face, and all but screamed his next words.

“ My nephew is in jail because of you!” He leaned in close and grabbed my shoulder in an iron clasp. And then for a second his eyes fell. and I saw a slip of paper in his other hand, and realized that his back was to the door, blocking Wurther’s view. “But also because of you, my sister has found some peace.” He whispered the words so softly it took me a second to make them out. When I did, suddenly all clicked perfectly into place. He was Angela Gomez’s brother. I took the paper as inconspicuously as I could, and as soon as it was safely tucked away, Diaz, yanked me forward violently, slamming my head into the table.

I knew by then it was all, or at least mostly a show for Wurthers, but something about the pounding headache I suddenly had made his malice feel genuine. My allergies were acting up. Diaz pinned my arms up behind my back, hoisted me out of my seat, and pushed me roughly through the interrogation room and out into the corridor, where Wurthers was waiting.

All the way back to the cage, my head was ringing with vivid memories of my quality time with officer Diaz. It was a short walk made longer by Wurther’s taunts. When we got back and they put me inside, Dave was alone in the cell.

“So how much trouble you in

Posted 6 Years Ago