The King's Lost Sword [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12

C H A P T E R12 |
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After Adira finished recalling all of the details - or all of those she knew - about The Sword Stealer, Darren had a perplexed expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," He said, his words came out stiff as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. "You want my help to find this killer?"

Adira nodded; the two assassins were sitting on one of Darren's couches in his dining room. Yes, couches in the dining room. It weirded Adira out that there was furniture besides a table and chairs in the eating space, but everything about Darren's house was weird: the wooden panels of his floor were mismatched and created some type of pattern that Adira had yet to figure out, the chairs in the dining room didn't match, and the paint on the walls were chipped and with a look down the hall where Adira assumed the bedrooms were, made her eyes bleed from the neon colors.

"I don't see the problem."

Adira thought she felt her jaw drop onto the mismatched panels, "You sound just like Allison."

"Who's Allison?"

"My roommate." Adira replied but continued speaking before Darren could, "I know how those families feel - losing someone close. And now they're experiencing the pain that I would never want anyone to go through because someone is targeting me."

"You're not the only one who's lost someone important."

"I know. Look, just help me find the person who took the sword, and then I won't bother you again."

Darren leaned back into the couch, "What do you need me to do?"

"I need access to the CCTV footage for all nights of the faker's murders."

"And how, pray tell, do you expect me to do that?"

"Uhm... you're a prince," Adira said as if that explained everything.

"Just because one has the royal name doesn't mean that they get to enjoy the perks of being a royal."

She sighed, "I just need you to get the videos, Darren. Then you can forget all about me."

"Alright," He said as he got off the dining couch, "I'll do my best, Princess."

Adira just rolled her eyes at the nickname. Very original, she thought.

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Darren walked into the police office, a small bell dinged as the door shut behind him. The office was one large room with a few wooden doors on each side, 12 officer desks were screwed into the aluminum floor in two rows of six and took up most of the room. One rounded desk stood closer to the door than all of the others, and a female in a blue uniform sat behind it. She looked up as Darren approached.

"What can I do for you?" The woman asked, her sweaty palms pushed strands of her black hair from out of her face.

Darren leaned onto the desk, "Hi, I was wondering if I could look at the CCTV footage for a couple of dates."

The desk officer started typing on her keyboard, "Why do you need to see it?"

"Ah - that's, uhm... I cannot give you my answer." She looked like she was about to respond - probably with something snarky, Darren noted how her upper lip began to curl - but she was interrupted by a man with dark skin clapping Darren on the shoulder.

"Hey, Dare! How 'you been?" The man asked, Darren looked over at his face, and after a second, he recognized the man as an old school-yard enemy. Most royal children were homeschooled, but Darren's mother insisted that the kids go to an actual school for the first couple of years. It was still a private school - "only the best for my little ones!" his mother used to say - but there were assholes in every school.