Chapter Sixteenth

How strange that whole situation had become… How shady the borders of my dreamy, homely life… how scary the threats it suddenly received.

It was Sunday morning and I stood in front of Danilo's house – my best friend. I stood there, frozen, fearful and sweaty, trying to rehearse what I had to do, what was expected of me… trying to measure my chances of success - slim. I was not so good a liar…

Chris explained that if the cop was knocking from door to door looking for the troubled kid who escaped from school that day, he would eventually find his way to Danilo, who had positively seen Chris that morning around my house. And he was right.

But what were we to do to find a way around this problem? I could just talk to Danilo, ask him not to say anything… but Chris wouldn't have that: It was a dangerous and flawed plan, he maintained. If, however, I was to compromise Danilo… to make it seem like he had been there too, and that he had also been involved in cutting Chris loose, then that would guarantee he'd keep his mouth shut. How to go about that? An icepick in my handbag – the most inconspicuous tool Chris could find in my kitchen drawer – I was to bring it to Danilo, to find a way to get his hands on it, his 'fingerprints', Chris said. How would that help? It would make it seem like Danilo cut the zip ties bounding Chris to the Principal's chair.

Problem was… I wasn't that good at lying. I couldn't find a situation to get Danilo's hands on that icepick like that without raising any suspicions… or animosities. Second… he was my friend. Infernal as our relationship often was, I couldn't do that. I couldn't 'compromise' him, as Chris put it. If something were to happen, I'd answer for it alone, bravely! I wouldn't bring my friend down with me… not when there was another way. I knew Danilo, I knew talking to him would do the trick.

So talk I did. I wasn't happy… I wasn't excited… I was filled with shame. I sat on his brown couch while his mother washed the dishes noisily in the kitchen, and there I told him the whole story, admitting to all my lying – even those involving Michael Campbell. And though it was embarrassing and humiliating to receive Danilo's rebukes, it was strangely relieving – to be who I actually was for once in all these past days. My behavior exasperated him, but he knew better than to expect more of me… because he knew the real me. And deep down, he was my accomplice.

"And this guy… this… old dude!" he rolled his eyes. "How old did you tell him you were?"

I shrunk between my shoulders. "Uh… 17?"

"Good grief!" Danilo sighed. But it was done.

Humiliating as it was, it was done. I'd have it: his begrudging silence; as long as I filled him in on the details of my escapade. If the police came knocking, he'd say nothing about me, or about Chris.

I left his house lighter, with the feeling of having done the right thing, of having come clean about something. That meant, however, I had stacked another lie to feed Chris: he would never trust Danilo because he didn't know him as I did, so I'd just tell him I did as I was told. I wouldn't enjoy it, but it was an easier lie. An inconsequential one. All's well that ends well.

And so I rushed back home, struggling to silence my racing thoughts, eager to be with Chris again, addicted to his company, to the feeling he gave me – the feeling that things would be alright. I had barely turned the corner on Danilo's street, absorbed as I was, when suddenly:

"Hey!"

My brain must be running on constant panic in the background, because my heart throbbed as I turned. So absorbed… I didn't realize I had walked right past him. Had I seen him before, I'd have gone the other way.

"Officer!"

He retraced his steps, walking back to me. I reminded myself that this time I wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Home."

He analyzed me, then looked about the street.

"Why were you running?"

"Running?" I fake laughed. "Was I running?"

"Just about." He looked at my hands, at the bag I held on my side, then over his shoulder.

"That house, the one you just came out of…" and he consulted his notepad. "Danilo Lopez? Does he live there?"

I blinked – a slow, retarded blink.

"Yes, he does."

"Were you visiting him? Where do you know him from?"

"He's my best friend!"

The cop frowned, surprised, then let an awkward smile slip:

"…Do you often befriend kids that young?"

"What?" I spoke before thinking, then it hit me, and I colored with vexation. "Oh, right. Well… He's… He's actually my sister's best friend, but… such a sweet kid!"

Short memory! That's why I was a bad liar!

"Right…" he still frowned "Well… has he shared anything useful – about school, about your sister?"

"Huh? No! Nothing at all!"

"Could have saved me a visit…" he bemoaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he examined his notes.

"Maybe I can still save it: Danilo is a clueless kid… head's always in the clouds. I'm sure he can't help you!" I smiled incisively.

"Doesn't hurt to try…" he sighed. "I'm already here."

I watched him think.

"Er… Weren't you looking for a girl?"

"Huh?"

"I… I figured you were looking for a girl." I smiled, half-stretching my neck to try and steal a peek of his notepad "because… you asked about my sister and all."

"Right! We are, but… Since I've pretty much ran out of ideas, I'm talking to some of the boys in her school as well."

"…why though?"

He puckered his lower lip.

"Checking to see if they've seen anything strange, anyone who didn't belong… If any of their friends are acting strange, or… not showing up at all."

"What are you guys looking for anyway?"

He flashed me an embarrassed smile that seemed to beg I wouldn't put him in that position.

"C'mon…" I insisted. "Maybe I can be of help?"

A sigh followed – one that told me I had nearly won.

"Your sister… is she home yet?"

"N-no."

"Well… It's really important I speak to her. A child was detained in her school… they don't know who she was, but possibly she was a student."

"Couldn't have been my sister, I'll assure you of that. She was with me."

"Right. Still, we'd like to talk to her. We're just trying to find this girl, to make sure she's okay… Maybe your sister will know something."

"Geesh, all of that trouble just because some kid pulled a prank in school?" I scoffed, internally annoyed.

"If that's all it was, it wouldn't be cause for concern. But there's more."

"More?!"

Another reluctant sigh, then the officer leaned closer, as to lower his voice.

"That same evening, a man was detained by campus security. A man that… well… no one there can account for. No one knows who he is, or why he was there in the first place...He doesn't match the description of any of the employees, and... Let's just say this is one unfortunate coincidence, considering..."

He stopped himself, looking away to the distance as if I wouldn't notice his reticence.

"Considering what?!" I demanded after a brief minute of patience.

"There's a certain... person of interest crossing the state. We don't know much about him, but... it just might be our guy."

"Person of interest?"

"Someone the police wants to talk to."

"And what kind of a person is that?"

"The dangerous kind." He turned serious, looking deep into my eyes. "We can't know that for sure, but we have our reasons to believe he is a threat. And he fled the campus that night with a girl - a student. We must find her, if only to make sure she's okay..." And once more his eyes traced the distance.

I surveyed his face looking for a visible crease of manipulation. He looked dead serious.

"W-what reasons do you have to think that? T-that he's dangerous, I mean..."

"Look, I can't really discuss this, but…" he sighed, nervous and conflicted. "Just… just keep this between us for now, will you?"

"Sure…" I complied, my half-smile stiffening with a hint of foreboding.

"We've been…noticing things. It was hard to stablish a pattern at first, but the police are sure we have it now." he looked away from me, towards the street, eyes intentionally distant as he spoke, either embarrassed by disclosing or uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "Bodies." His lower lip shook, as if personally disturbed by the image.

"Bodies?" I frowned, failing to understand.

"We believe we might be dealing with a predator – a serial killer."

A serial killer! The strangeness of that title, one I had heard so many times on TV, in crime shows… it made me burst out a small laugh, which I quickly secured against my palm.

"You think that's funny?"

"I'm sorry, obviously I don't; It's just that… it sounds so… crazy!"

"Crazy?" he scoffed "We certainly hope so. We hope it's nothing but a crazy coincidence. But until we've looked into it, consider the streets unsafe! S-specially you…"

"Why 'specially me'?" My eyes narrowed.

"Well, like I said… he's a predator, that means he… He was detained in your sister's school, and… the campus security had reasons to believe he was collecting information on some of the students. Maybe he was looking for someone… for girls." he swallowed, uncomfortable to say it. "He targets girls, apparently. For…"

"Sex?" the troubling word was spat out of my mouth, propelled by fear.

"Er… yes, but… not sex, 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦! He 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦s them!" He corrected, as if disturbed by my choice of word.

"W-where? Who? I mean, how do you know that?!"

"L-like I said…" he eagerly corrected, afraid I might cause a fuss "We don't know anything… not for sure! It's just that they've – 𝘸𝘦've studied what we think is a pattern, and – and it seems plausible. The last victim was…"

"last victim?!"

"We believe there's a number of them, scattered throughout the country. He… he tortures them, and then he… Look, I really shouldn't be discussing this with you. It-it might be nothing, really – not this time. We certainly hope so. But the thing is, someone is out there, and they're moving around, from city to city, so it doesn't hurt to be on the safe side. Here, give me a call when your sister is home: I still want to talk to her. And if you see anything suspicious, do not fail to contact me!" And he held out his business card.

I picked it up like an automaton. I believe he offered me some other civility, which I must have answered: I was polite, after all. But I didn't remember doing it, my thoughts were too busy again. My limbs were cold.