Crazy. That's precisely the word preschool teachers used when they were referring to me during breaks, as I was repeatedly pacing from one side of the playground to the other. What they didn't know is that my brain was actively trying to crack the power grid's regulation mechanisms. Liam Blake, a senior engineer at the energy company and, more importantly, my late father, had spent the entire evening explaining to me how electricity was flowing through the large copper wires hanging in the air. From generators to distribution points, he spared no details in attempting to satisfy my curiosity.
Would any of my teachers at the time had witnessed what happened at the party yesterday, they'd have used that awful word against me once more. Crazy, as a stark reminder of how our society deals with "marginal cases." Dad would have come back, recalling them that they owe most of their daily comfort to the greatest minds among us. Then, he would have noted that children represent our future, not our failures. Especially at the age of five!
Although when I look in the mirror, I often see some kind of mad genius. The recent power outage, consequence of my frenetic week-long work, only adds to the chaotic depth of the picture. All in all, my portrait does appear frightening. That's how I deduced that the word "crazy" sometimes really means "I'm afraid of you."
"So it was you! Dude, you blacked out the whole town!" remarks Asa as he rubs Chloe—the car.
"Yeah, I know. I was worried this would happen. Fortunately, I was able to get the singer's name before the power went out. So I guess it was worth the risk."
"So what's that name?"
"Zachary."
Asa whistles.
"Well done, Einstein! Lucky for you, everybody thinks it's the light show that caused a surge. Although it's not great news for your boss, it shields you from lawsuits brought by the electric company."
"My dad was working for them as an engineer. I figured that I could leverage some of that if they decided to come after me."
"Practical!"
I laugh.
"Man, today's hot!"
I put my left hand on my forehead as a cap against the blinding sun.
"Yeah. The forecast announced 70, but it sure feels at least like 90!"
Asa finishes polishing the headlights of his Mustang, and straightens up.
"So, now that you know his name, what's next?"
I haven't thought about that yet.
"First, I'll need to repair the controller—the excessive heat fried the power circuit. I'll also throttle the process, to make sure it never happens again. Then, I would likely search for his other songs, and perhaps his biography."
I sigh.
"To be honest, I thought it would bring me something. All I got is a name. A plain sequence of characters."
According to Dr. Sun, I should follow Zachary's voice towards the "Cities of Light." I placed a lot of hope in learning his identity, assuming it would give me a clue as to what she meant by that. Well, the mystery remained intact and I'm back to square one. I wonder why she keeps on refusing to provide more explanation, telling me to "figure it out on my own." Maybe it's just one of her tricks to force me out of my solitude. If that's true, it's working very well!
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. I guess all I was really looking for is a friend who's been through the same pain, who could understand... me."
Asa drops the sponge and joins me on the bench.
"It's a shame you're stuck with me," he puts in a self-mockery.
I shake my head, laughing at his joke.
"I mean, somebody who also lost their father. The song—I believe that's what he's referring to in the lyrics. When I heard it again after the party, it was like a flashback. He voiced something about a 'figure went missing,' that dented his soul forever. And then, he said that all that's left are good memories. This is exactly what I feel when I recount my dad."
"I didn't know you lost your father. Sorry!"
I nod, acknowledging the biggest weakness that has been haunting me for fifteen years now.
"That's okay. I just wish I had more answers. The circumstances of his disappearance were unclear. We never found his body, only blood and shredded clothes."
Asa sits back in the bench, looking in the distance.
"Chloe was my girlfriend. We were about to celebrate our third anniversary when the doctors announced she had AIDS."
I turn to him. For the first time since we met days ago, he isn't displaying any emotion.
"She died one year later, in August 1991. It's probably not the same as losing a father, but it left me empty, purposeless."
I put my hand on his shoulder and try to communicate a bit of warmth.
"I'm so sorry to hear that."
"It's fine. I'm not sad anymore when I think about her. All the bad memories, the pain I felt when she was gone—it waned. This is the reason why I named my car after her. I don't wish to forget what we had."
His story almost brought tears to my eyes. This is definitely the grimmest I heard since the accident.
"On the positive side, I don't think it could be any worse," he cheers up.
"Same for me I guess," I second.
The conversation suddenly turns awkward. None of us had ever shared our grief before, let alone to someone who knows exactly how it feels.
"Can I offer you a coffee?"
"Yeah, I'd love that!"
Asa stands and disappears inside. I take a last spoonful of my Mediterranean Salmon salad—red and black peppers, green onions, spreads of feta cheese, a bit of olive oil and, of course, fresh salmon.
As soon as the Sunday Mass was over, I went straight to Asa's car workshop by the main road. We talked for hours and then walked downtown to order at the food shop. On our way back, he told me that the gang was striving towards something important, which could interest me. He invited me to join them at Toulouse's house this afternoon.
"This place looks amazing. You did an incredible job restoring it!"
"Thanks. It's not finished yet, but I'm definitely proud of my progress so far."
Asa cordoned off the road exit leading to the station and removed the fuel pumps, but kept the roof structure connected to the googie-style store. That way, he can park Chloe safely underneath. He also replaced the asphalt grounds with grass, and planted various flowers around the parcel, making the yard a charming garden.
Inside the workshop, Asa did a clean and smooth paint job on the walls and the ceiling, and poured fresh concrete on the floor. The vending section now has bookshelves, pop decorations, and a pool game in the middle. The counter became a minibar, and the waiting area a reading salon. The former offices serve as a studio apartment comprising a kitchen, a living room with a large comfortable couch, and a bedroom connected to a cozy Italian shower. The woods, carpets and wallpaper patterns he chose for the interiors create an interesting atmosphere that brings back an architectural style that was trending when the station was built in the '60s.
"How much did you buy it?"
"Actually, I somehow inherited it from my uncle."
"Somehow?" I inquire, raising an eyebrow.
"It's not yet cleared up legally," he says as he comes back with two mugs. "He wrote no testament, but told me in a letter that he would give it to me. I'm struggling to get it recognized so I can claim the parcel which would be otherwise destroyed. In the meantime, it's supposed to be property of the state. Although I managed to obtain an authorization for early renovation works."
"Man, that looks complicated."
"Yes. Fortunately, my brother-in-law happens to be a lawyer. That's helping!"
I nod in acknowledgment.
"By the way—you're actually my first guest here."
"Really?" I ask, surprised. "I mean, you seem to be quite a social guy."
"Thanks! It's true, I think, but I don't exactly feel comfortable having people here. It's a very private place," he concedes, glancing over his car.
"I understand. It's the same for me with my bedroom. I couldn't let anybody in—besides Delilah, of course. It's my secret garden, where I store my biggest shames and fears."
"Exactly! There are things here that I don't want random strangers to see."
I smile, glad to hear that I'm not a "random stranger" to Asa. I wonder if I would be ready to invite him inside my world too.
"Hey I just had an idea. We as Clever Animals have strong connections with folks we helped in the past. Maybe we could leverage our directory to find somebody who knows 'Zachary' personally."
I turn to Asa.
"That would be amazing!"
"Cool! I'll look into our address book and identify some points of contact."
"Thank you so much, Asa!"
"No problem, Camy—is it okay if I call you Camy?"
I smile, recollecting the good old memories brought by this surname.
"Sure."
"Awesome. I see it's already two! Shall we connect with the others, dear?"
My friend extends a hand that I happily accept. He goes inside to lock everything while I throw our dishes in the trash. Asa joins me soon after, and we both hit the road.
"Oh—you'll never guess what happened to me at the Church earlier."
"I'm all ears!"
"Soon after the power was restored on Saturday evening, I started working to fix the computer. It was already five in the morning when I decided to settle and get some rest—I hadn't looked at the clock until then. Once at the church hours later, I kept fighting off sleep. When everybody stood up to chant, I couldn't help it. I had to close my eyes for a moment. That's when I started wondering what my wedding would be like. I knew Delilah would be orchestrating the ceremony along with Reverend Foreman. I watched myself arrive in a tailored suit, treading on the hallway between the benches, from where friends and family were staring. All seemed proud to witness the beginning of a new chapter of my life. My fiancée was waiting for me, standing by the Altar. She was beautiful in her white linen robe. Her face was hidden behind a thin tissue. I couldn't see through it."
I take a short breath. Asa is listening with close attention.
"When the priest asked if anybody was opposed to our union, a guy dressed as a groom walked in. Although I couldn't get a good look at him, I somehow knew who he was. Everybody followed him with their gaze, trying to decrypt his intentions. He came up front and eclipsed the bride. I remember him gently gripping my hand, telling me not to worry, that he would protect me, and that I only had one word to say. I pronounced his name and he kissed me, sending shock waves through the crowd. And then, things went crazy. He touched my arm. Delilah fainted, others shouted or stampeded out of the church, covering their eyes and praying so loudly they wouldn't see nor hear. He put his palm on my chest and with his left hand, he slowly undressed me—"
"Alright, alright. I get it."
Oh, me and my big mouth. Why did I start giving out details? I'm such a dork.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm so stupid."
"That's fine, don't worry."
My mishap set something off between us. Neither dare say a word. We both keep silent for minutes until we finally reach the corner street before Toulouse's house. Asa stops.
"So you're into dudes, right?"
"Yes," I answer carefully.
He doesn't look more surprised than when I told him about my morning daydream. Rather, he seems preoccupied. I dare a perilous move.
"Do you?"
"If I'm being honest, I'm not sure whether I can ever love again, girls like boys. Losing Chloe was traumatizing. I don't want to relive anything similar."
"I know that feeling. Don't let it eat yourself up! I didn't speak a single word for ten years after the accident. Hopefully, your wounds will heal quicker."
I smile to try and cheer him up a bit, getting past the odd turn our conversation has taken. I stay careful—I don't want him to be scared, or think I'm attracted to him because I love boys.
"You're probably right," he nods, as we head towards the door. I step forward. Knock, knock.
-*-
The headquarters of the Clever Animals are impressive! Far beyond what I imagined from what Asa told me on our way.
Toulouse arranged his entire basement, which must be four times the size of my bedroom, to serve as a regular meeting location for the group. While it has no windows, the wallpapers give realistic views of the city, making the space appear wider, plants spread wildly on the ceilings, greener and leafier than anything growing outside, and the couches and sofas provide a comfortable spot for a nap.
The staircase faces a large display of three bookshelves aligned in a row under the spotlights. They are full of various volumes ranging from science and politics to history and literature. An entire section is dedicated to puzzle, strategies, and mystery-solving techniques. In the middle of the room, a round table with five chairs is ready to host important briefings. Next to Toulouse's desk, a whiteboard exposes an underway plan featuring pictures, journal excerpts, and handwritten notes, all linked together with red strings.
Further to the right is the extension in which Asa and Louise, the two engineers, have their workbenches and respective toolboxes and equipment. A soldering station is in the corner, underneath a hanging storage rack for crafting parts and components.
"I cleared half of my table for you—should you accept to join us and, more importantly, aren't afraid to sit next to a running torrent of Canadian insults," remarks Asa.
"Frustration angers me. Electronic can be frustrating," warns Louise.
"Don't tell me!" I claim, happy to find someone else living with the same struggle. She hasn't seen my garage...
The opposite side of the room offers more space to walk. Abigail's tripod stands next to a complete set of painting tools, aerosols, and a large professional printer. She must be in charge of the team's visual communication. The more I learn about the Clever Animals, the more I realize that they're not just a group of "cool and curious kids." They're a sophisticated organization of mystery solvers! And they are inviting me to join.
"This one is from me," she reveals, pointing out one of the pop-style paintings.
"Aren't they all?"
"Most are. But I think it's important to include other artists' work too."
The most interesting part of the HQ is probably the left corner next to the staircases. The two "Walls of Accomplishments," separated from the rest of the basement with purple curtains. Pictures and journal excerpts are hung across the two walls, as well as personal letters thanking the team for solving various complex puzzles. For some reason, the decorations around this area remind me of traditional Indian saris.
"Impressive, huh?" asks Louise.
Definitely—there must be dozens of mysteries displayed on these walls!
"Indeed," I answer, dazzled by their successes.
This place is amazing. It is both comfortable and safe. I think I'm ready to step in now.
"I don't know what to say. You're impressive!"
Abigail smiles. She seems happy to see me again, in a very different context.
"Can I ask something?"
"Anything."
"Do you offer all employees of the hardware store to join the Clever Animals?"
"No. We only approach people who have a will to fight for good."
I blush. What Toulouse just said is flattering. I'm not used to receiving compliments.
"Abigail has been observing you for quite some time, back at Charles's. When she was convinced that you had what it takes to be part of the gang, she set up an encounter at the party so we could all meet you before revealing more about us."
"But I didn't disclose much about myself back then."
Toulouse smile and gives me a pat in the back.
"You showed enough, Cameron. Trust me."
All nod, as a warm feeling overwhelms my spirit.
"So, are you in?" queries Asa.
I take a short time to think. They all look so nice, and my curiosity begs me to accept their offer. The darkness has been retreating faster than ever since Asa and I spoke after the party.
"Yes," I declare.
"Woo-hoo! Welcome to the Clever Animals."
All four cheer and give me a warm welcome. Abigail hugs me once more. Man, twice in less than two days! If it hadn't been her, I'd have pushed back.
"I knew you'd like us!"
"Alright. Time for your first briefing, Cameron!"
I follow the gang and grab a chair. Abigail installs the projector next to the shelf and orients the lamp towards a white screen on the wall. Asa switches off the light and drags a pouf to come sit near me.
"Let me start with a quick introduction for our newest member," says Abi.
"As we mentioned on Friday, we're currently trying to solve the Golden Owl quest. At least that's what everybody thinks. The truth is, we're also working on another mystery in parallel. A more serious case, involving people disappearing across the country."
"We're using the Golden Owl as a cover," confides Asa.
"So you're partnering with law enforcement?" I ask.
"Not really. None of the ten local police departments believe these acts are linked. The FBI eventually opened an investigation, but haven't found anything supporting this theory per their last public report. We suspect they'll de-prioritize early next week, and let the state deputies conclude the probe."
"Then, what makes you think they're connected?"
"All ten missing people have exactly one thing in common: they are extraordinarily talented in one precise domain."
Abigail swaps the slides. A woman's face displays on the screen.
"Jessica Parker, Ph. D in robotics. She received a Nobel prize three years ago. Disappeared last October."
Abigail scrolls through and summarizes each profile.
"Marta Hanson, Psychiatrist. Missing since December. And finally, Jeff Sanders, a starred chef that never came home."
I look closely at the faces. It definitely cannot be physical, they all have very different ethnicity. It's as if somebody were building a team in which everybody would play a specific role. Like the Hummingbirds and the Clever Animals.
"Did you ask for the police reports?"
"The FBI required them to be classified. Plus, nobody ever trusts a bunch of kids."
"Really? I mean, you do have references!"
"Yeah, but we have no legal grounds. Sheriffs don't like being shadowed by amateurs, even when they run out of options," explains Louise.
"So they just shelve the case? That's it?" I inquire, astonished.
Toulouse nods.
"This sad truth is the very foundation of our group. When regular police investigations fail, we chime in, and never stop looking until we find answers."
They sure are devoted! I certainly know how awful it is to be left clueless. I'd do anything to spare somebody from going through the same tribulations.
"We started contacting allies in several key locations last week," resumes Toulouse.
With a red marker, the tall and fair-headed man circles cities on the map displayed on the wall.
"We called a meeting today to put in common what we learned and plot our next steps."
"Nothing in Colorado," begins Louise. "Parker's apartment in California is still under investigation, so Neil couldn't get access. And I didn't hear back from Allan."
"Copy that. Make sure you reach out to him again this week, we need these documents. Asa?"
The Colombian strands up.
"Same for Texas, New Mexico, and Louisiana. The houses were untouched. No evidence of break-in."
"We're dealing with professionals. Abigail, any update?"
"Yes. Nothing from the east coast, but..."
Everyone's hanging on her words as Abi looks into her pocket.
"We received this from Paul in Arizona. He heard about the disappearances in the surrounding states and thinks it could be linked."
Abigail passes a folded paper around the table.
"He found it as he went by the house of a missing girl in his county."
"So we have one more case?"
"Twenty year-old, 'brilliant' Ph. D student in robotics."
"Blimey! We need clues, and fast!"
Louise hands me the sheet. Asa comes over my shoulder. There is nothing but a written order:
Target Collected. Contact Robert. Stop.
"Robert? Is that one of the victims?" he inquires.
Abigail looks through her notes.
"No. Definitely haven't heard that name before."
"Where did Paul find this?" chimes in Louise.
"It was outside the house, under a rosebush. He retrieved it after law enforcement sealed the area."
"Then it has to be an evidence!"
"Yeah, but what does it mean?"
"That, my friend, is up to us to figure out!"
Everyone starts thinking. Louise opens a few books. Toulouse glances at the mind map again. Asa and I keep our fingers busy with whatever is within reach, as our brains review the clue.
"Is it really the only thing we know?" I ask.
"Here's all we have—names, profiles, and reports. We didn't find anything useful, but perhaps you'll clock something we missed."
Toulouse hands me a large manilla folder. I grab the documents and sit on a pouf.
"Maybe 'Target' wasn't the student, but a codename for a location," interrupts Abigail.
"Would you collect a location?" doubts Louise.
"I'm not sure," she concedes. "Then it has to be some kind of circumstantial evidence. I'll make a few calls and see if Robert rings a bell," she announces.
Abigail grabs a phonebook from the library and heads upstairs.
"Good idea. Since it's our sole lead, we shouldn't leave any stone unturned," advises Toulouse.
Wait a minute!
"I know something that could help us," I verbalize. "I can update LYSE. Instead of searching for an artist provided an audio sample, it could analyze the semantics of the sentence and match similar constructions on-line!"
"LYSE?" repeats Asa.
"That's how I called my program."
I don't yet want to reveal the true meaning of the name he actually inspired me.
"Do you think it can work?" asks Louise.
"Yes. Updating the logic should only take a few days, two weeks at worst."
Toulouse defers to Louise, the subject matter expert.
"Okay. In the meantime, I'll make some research on the profiles—we've got to find more data," she approves.
"That makes sense. I'll bring the computer here and start working on it!"
"Sounds like a plan! While you do that, I'll chat with Paul and see if he can convince law enforcement to cooperate."
"Do you need muscles to help you carry the pieces? Or perhaps entertain you on the way?" asks Asa.
I giggle. How could I say no to him?
"I'd love that!"
I hand him his vest, along with a smile, as I grab mine.
"We'll talk to you guys later!"
We meet Abigail upstairs, on the phone, working the gang's connections across the country.
She waves at us on the doorstep.
"See you," she mouths.
Outside, the sun is still shining. The streets are quiet. It's only Asa and I on this peaceful Sunday afternoon.
"The Clever Animals seem powerful!"
"Yup. Solving impossible puzzles helped us gain visibility. It also gave us notoriety, very useful during our investigations."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four. You?"
"I mean—how old is the team?"
"Oh! We started on our first mystery two years ago. At the time it was only me, Toulouse, and Abi. We encountered Louise by accident, as she was investigating a linked computer hack on her own. She joined us as soon as we cracked the case."
Wow.
"Impressive!"
"I'm really glad to be part of your team. Sincerely. I think I'm finally finding a purpose."
He gives me a pat in the back.
"And I'm happy to have a friend who truly appreciates the quality of my jokes!"
The sound of our laughter echoes around the suburb, as we joyfully walk down the street.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why the Clever Animals?"
The origin of their names has bugged me for a while. I wasn't able to figure it out at the HQ.
"That's a long story. It began after solving our third case. But before I start rambling, can I also ask you something?"
"Of course."
Asa seems hesitant.
"What kind of music does Zachary make?"
I smile. Given his tone and after our earlier discussion, I was expecting a more intimate question.
"Somewhere between RnB and Pop? Sorry, I've never been good at genres."
Asa wraps his arm around my shoulder.
"Don't worry, bud'. I'll explain it to you once we get back."
"Cool! So, what's the story behind the gang's name?"
-*-
After treading together for 20 minutes, sharing personal anecdotes and yanking bystanders chains, I realized that Asa and I have much more in commons than I thought. He also contemplated suicide after Chloe's death, and went to a psychiatrist who dissuaded him. If only I spoke to the one who was helping me at the time, perhaps I wouldn't have tried anything stupid. Well, if I did, I probably wouldn't have heard Zachary's voice...
"Okay. Favorite cuisine in three. One, two..."
"Italian."
"Italian!" he confirms.
"No way!"
"Dude we're so in sync, like brothers!"
We both laugh.
"I know a good Italian restaurant in Dallas. If you're interested, we could grab some food there next week, after work. I'll pick you up with Chloe," he offers.
"That would be awesome! I rarely go to Dallas, let alone in a shining 1968 Ford Mustang Convertible!"
"Cool. Can't wait!"
The roofs of the neighboring villas arise as we climb the lengthy slope.
"I think I know this place."
I chuckle and open the gate checking the mailbox, a daily obsession since last week.
"Nice tree house!"
I look up at the shack that dad and I built in the old hornbeam.
"Oh, yeah. I used to play a lot in that when I was a kid."
"I bet! It looks really cool."
Asa doesn't have any brother nor sister, and his only childhood neighbors were a group of seniors. His days must have felt like eternity!
I lead the way to the front door.
"I hope your arms are ready! The commodore may be lightweight, but the hardware attached to it is heavy!"
"Yikes!"
"I'm kidding, we'll just put everything in a trailer."
"Oof. I'm definitely not as strong as you imagine!"
Delilah, who was gazing at us from the kitchen window, opens the door before I could reach the handle.
"Cameron! Where were you?"
"Hey Mom. I was just hanging out with friends."
"Friends?" she inquires, looking at Asa.
She seems surprised, but tries to appear as natural as she possibly can.
"Hi! I'm Delilah—Cameron's mother."
"Goof afternoon ma'am. I'm Asa."
"Nice to meet you, Asa!"
Oh, not again! I gently pull my buddy forward right after he removed his shoes so that Delilah doesn't get to analyze him.
"Sorry mom, we're in a bit of a rush!"
We swiftly pass next to her. I swear I can hear her think.
"My room is upstairs."
For the first time in my life, I'm about to let somebody else than Rose enter my private world. On every step that I climb, my heart beats faster. Part of me is curious, but the other half is terrified.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I just remembered that I have a lab work due on Monday..."
Why am I lying to him? I'm sure he knows exactly how I currently feel anyways.
First floor. We head right and walk down the hall to my door. I reach for the handle and—oh my gosh! I forgot to finish cleaning up this morning.
"Err... Do you mind giving me a minute? I need to tidy up a bit—you know, Friday."
"Oh, don't worry," he sympathizes, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Growing up, my room was so messy that my mom used to call it a dump!"
I can't help but smile at this. It's definitely something that Delilah could say too!
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Yes," he affirms.
I take a deep breath and open the door.
"Wow. Was there a storm?"
"I was angry, like really angry!" I shamefully stutter.
Asa turns to me with a smile and starts walking around my room, inspecting the electronic devices on my desk. I silently pick broken pieces from the floor and put them away. This is a very embarrassing situation. Definitely not what I imagined for a first guest!
"You have a lot of books," he remarks.
"I love to read fiction. When I'm alone, I often picture myself in these imaginary worlds. And I become a superhero, a fearless traveler, a mighty detective..."
He crosses the room and inches closer to the window, next to the radio. My mate looks around, observing every detail, trying to understand the fantastic and complex universe he's visiting.
"What's this?" he queries, pointing out the Commodore on my desk.
"The purpose of our trip. A part of it, at least."
"Did you build all this by yourself?"
I nod.
"Impressive," I hear him murmur.
"I'm using the printer over there," I explain. "The screen isn't functioning because I'm reserving the video memory for the audio computations instead."
Asa slowly runs his fingers on the C64, following the wires to the stand next to the desk.
"Zachary," he softly reads from the printout.
He faces me. We both stay silent and immobile for a moment, before chuckling out of discomfort.
"It's weird," I reveal. "It's the first I let a stranger in."
"Stranger? I thought we were more than that," he teases.
I open my mouth, but don't really know what to answer.
"Don't worry, I won't touch anything unless you tell me so."
I nod in acknowledgment. His large smile clears the remnants of negative energy floating around in my room, replacing it with something colorful and warm. I stand in front of him, glancing at his eyes with passion. My feelings are blurry. I'm not sure what to do.
Asa slowly joins me near the bed, observing my reaction at each step that he makes. I begin to perceive the fervor of his breath on my skin. He extends his arm and gently grabs my hand.
A brutal noise downstairs suddenly breaks into the moment. I hear a man's voice. And a woman's. Did Mom invite somebody? They seem to be arguing. I look at Asa and can read from his gaze that he also senses something strange. I get out of my room, closely trailed by my mate. Two individuals wearing a similar, black jacket are standing in the entrance. They are interrogating Delilah. One of them notices me on top of the stairs.
"Cameron Blake?"
"Yes?" I shakily answer.
What's happening?
"You're going to have to follow us. We have some questions for you."
I slowly walk down to floor level. I don't understand—is this about Dad?
"Cameron, honey. What did you do?"
"Please stand back, ma'am."
The man extracts a pair of handcuffs from his vest. What the heck?
"Asa Diaz?"
"Yes?"
"You're coming with us too."
The two cops shackle our wrists and escort us to their black SUV parked outside.I glimpse at the woman's insignia. Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Delilah helplessly stares at them taking us away. A handful of neighbors who saw them too arriving on the drive got out to witness the scene.
I'm scared, Asa.
My buddy sends back a comforting look as if to say, "I'm here."