Saving Nightlock

9. Glocks vs. Bubble Gum

“We didn’t come to buy a banjo,” Irene says patronizingly, “We came to talk to your so-called sister Denise.”

Daniel narrows his eyes. His hands never still though. Even the girl ceases chewing for a moment.

“Who are you?” She asks, tilting her head to one side.

The two girls to the side look as if they’ve stopped paying attention altogether, gaping at suggestive boy-band posters, but even they’re listening.

Irene keeps her eyes on Daniel. “None of your business, nerd, just get back to your book.”

“Whatevs, asian.” The girl flips her auburn hair and springs to her feet. “I’m outta here. Later, Daniel.” She skips to the back door, twists it open, and disappears behind it.

“What my friend is trying to say,” Jemima intervenes, “Is that we’d really like to talk to Denise. We think that she might be in danger.”

Irene jabs an elbow into her side, hard. Apparently, being Irene’s best friend doesn’t keep you safe from her either. With suppressed groans, Jemima eases away from her and half-sits on the sofa arm instead. Daniel turns off the music and slaps down his deck.

“In danger, huh? You’d better tell me everything then. Who are you, and what is this all about?”

 “Or you’ll what?” Irene narrows her eyes and gets to her feet. That’s never a good sign. “Kwai, believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to get involved in this—“

“What’s going on?” A hesitant voice behind me makes me jump. Long hair hangs in her face, and a large eye peeks out from the behind the curtain to look around the room. All heads turn, startled by her arrival. How did she come in without making a sound?

“Are you Denise Cordon?” Jemima takes a step towards her. Her stance is open, friendly, but the newcomer steps back.

“Yeah,” she answers, biting her lower lip, “Who be you?”

“My name is Jemima. We’re just here to ask you a few questions.” Jemima smiles in a reassuring way at the girl. “Can we talk somewhere a bit more private?”

“Um, no? I mean, I want bro to stay?” Denise points at her brother.

“That’s fine. Please, sit.”

Since there’s no point in going somewhere else now, Jemima fishes out a folder from her bag and sets it on the coffee table. Denise tiptoes an arc around her, and sits next to her brother, who puts a protective arm around her shoulders.

“We’re here investigating the—“

Daniel raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Aren’t you kind of young for that?”

“Clearly not. Now shut up and listen.”

Denise shrinks even further away from Irene. Can’t say I blame her. Jemima sits and flips the cream-colored sides open, revealing a picture of Cody underneath. Though unfocused, his feature are easy to make out.

“As I was saying,” Jemima continues, “We’re here investigating a young man who calls himself ‘Cody’. We saw him last in Florida, and we think he might be here now. Have you seen this guy before?”

Daniel grasps a corner and drags the whole thing across the table. After studying it for a moment, he shrugs and folds his arms across his chest. A tight-lipped smile makes its way across his features.

“Seems familiar, but I don’t think so.”

Irene sneers, pacing behind the sofa. “Oh please. Civilians.”

“I have not seen this guy before!”

“And I own a unicorn who poops jelly babies.”

“Guys,” Jemima pleads, raising her hands, “Please.”

Stares and heavy silence exchange between the trio. No one’s willing to back down. Heaving my own exasperated sigh, I crane my neck to look up at the plant-life hanging from the ceiling. A small circle of glass winks back at me. Camera, I realize. And where there’s a camera, there’s footage. 

Daniel leaps to his feet, fists clenched. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Someone call the press, little dumbo finally gets it!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know who this guy is!”

Engrossed in their argument, they don’t notice me sneak past them. A tap on my shoulder startles me, and I whirl around to find Scarlett there. What are you doing? She mouths.

I point at the security device and the back room. Might find something? I mouth back.

She nods, and follows me with Xena close behind. The room we enter is a great deal messier than the store we left behind, but it's the mounted monitors to one side that draw my attention. Finally, I'm in my element. Nothing will stand in my way here. The system is a simple one and I manually override it in matter of seconds to find the exact footage I want. This is a smaller, isolated part of town—how many customers could they possibly have had in the past few days?

I’m right. Then again, I'm always right. After just a few customers, Scarlett jabs a finger at the screen. “There,” she says, “That looks exactly like the picture.”

“And this big blonde dude on his left matches the description of Irene’s other attacker.” Xena shakes her finger at another figure on the display.

I freeze the screen, and a familiar voice behind me says: “Well…what do we have here?”

Irene smirks in a manner that suggests she’s happy about something. Not that she’s ever happy. “Well done, Isabella.”

Daniel lets out a defeated sigh and runs one hand over his hair.

“Look, if I tell you everything, I don’t want this to get out to anyone, you understand?”

“And why’s that?” Our eyebrows rise to accompany the question.

He throws a glance at his sister still curled up on the couch, eyes staring off into the distance, and locks the door. Click. Despite his reluctance to speak, his mouth opens immediately.

“Denise has never been…mentally stable. Life, stuff, shit happened. She quit school after.” A pained look flashes in his eyes . “Those guys wanted to know about everything. Everything. I told them that if they didn’t leave her alone, I’d smash their heads in with a hammer.”

“They were hanging around here the next day again. I called the cops, but no one ever showed up. Haven’t seen them since though.”

“Where were they hanging out?” Irene peers out the window into the back alley.

“Around the corner.”

Irene cocks her head to one side and stares at me. “Let’s go check it out.”

“Umm, ok?”

She flips the lock and slides the pane up, then lifts a leg over the sill. I’m frozen, unsure how to proceed. A sharp poke in the back sends me scampering forward, and I almost crash into Irene. Luckily, she falls out onto the grass just in time. She props herself up on her elbows and glares at me.

“Clumsy penguin.”

A/N: Dedicated to a very talented writer with an awesome username, giveitameaning. Go check her out-now! 

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