One

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Two thousand, two hundred and eight minutes. Ninety-two days. Thirteen weeks. 

It didn't matter how you worded it, the date written at the top of my notebook still knocked the air from my lungs, like taking a hit from a ball to the stomach. It was three months to the day that John B and Sarah went missing. Presumed dead. Their bodies forever lost at sea. 

The search and rescue helicopters spent three days searching for any trace of them. But the storm they were forced to flee into seemed to swallow them whole, never to be found again. 

Those three days were a blur. Just because the manhunt had ended, didn't mean we weren't to face any consequences for 'aiding and abetting' a fugitive. Some of the cops tried to take it easy on us, guilt-ridden over what had happened. But the SBI agents weren't so kind. 

After allowing us to return home for the night, only twenty-four hours later we were escorted back to Kildare police station where the interrogations began. We were separated and interviewed for what felt like hours and hours. Even though there was a strong chance that John B and Sarah didn't make it out of the storm alive, they still wanted to find out their escape plan. But none of us cracked under the pressure. Just in case there was a small chance that they survived, we vowed to take it to our graves.

By the third day of interrogations I had lost all hope, so decided to use the opportunity to tell the cops everything I could about Ward. I told them about all I had discovered. About him and Big John finding the Royal Merchant. How he confessed to John B that he killed his father. How my mom had found out the truth and tried to get Ward to own up to his crimes, only for him to fight back and ultimately kill her too. How Sheriff Peterkin discovered the truth and was on her way to arrest him. And how Rafe shot her, not John B. 

I felt like I talked for days without taking a breath. Finally getting everything off my chest to not just an adult, but law enforcement officers who would hopefully help us prove John B's innocence and Ward's guilt. 

And for a while I believed that it was working. The longer my story went on, the more officers that entered the room to listen, record me and write notes. But when I had finally finished, Deputy Shoupe asked for the one thing I knew I no longer had. Evidence. 

It was around this time that Agent Bratcher was called out of the room in a hurry. The other cops soon followed, intrigued by the commotion growing outside. Shoupe could tell I was growing anxious and agitated over not being believed, and now being left to wait with no information or updates even though it was obvious something urgent was happening. So he left the room, promising to return with news. 

Only it wasn't news I wanted to hear. The Phantom had been recovered. Completely broken and battered by the storm. And without any sign of life on board.

The shrill sound of a bell ringing loudly snapped my attention back to reality. My head shot up, taking in my surroundings as the students around me began to pack up their books and file out of the classroom.

I shook off the daydream I had been in as I stood up, following their lead into the hall, grateful that it was the last class of the day. As I walked towards my locker, I couldn't help but look around at the students chatting and laughing in their friendship groups without a care in the world wishing things were that simple for me.

In the four weeks since joining Kildare High School, I hadn't exactly made many friends. Something about being involved in the biggest murder man-hunt the town had seen made people wary, even if they were fellow Pogues. 

Shoving my locker door closed after grabbing the few books that I needed for homework, I smiled when I saw a familiar face walking towards me.

"Uhhh, today has been horrendous." Pope groaned, slumping his shoulders back to further exaggerate just how drained he felt.

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