Undefinable, part I: The Black Coat Conspiracy

After repeated descriptions of a mysterious man in black stalking the streets of the city, our detectives finally find themselves investigating it. But what they find is only the beginning

“She was where!?” my mother cried, with a reddened face and hands flailing in the air.

“A junk yard,” my father answered as he paced our living room. “This guy twice as big as I am was chasing them down. God knows what would’ve happened if Allen didn’t just happen to be passing by.”

I sat on the couch and averted my eyes while my parents went on and on with this mutual freakout. 

My dad continued, “They found out that woman was an attempted murderer and decided to personally head over to her office anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And because we did that we figured out the case and sent her to jail.”

“That’s not the point!”

My mom did her favorite dramatic pose, placing her hand on her forehead as if she were about to faint. I rolled my eyes.

“What kind of a grown man chases two kids?”

My father answered for me. “The kind who has no problem killing a man in cold blood over a court case. But it’s not surprising; being around violent criminals is a recurring theme in our daughter’s life now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember that trip she took out of town a while ago? She came back and didn’t tell us about the criminal surgeons and sex trafficking.”

I looked down at the coffee table. “I mean, we caught that guy too,” I muttered. 

“How could you do all this behind our backs!?” my mom yelled.

“I didn’t. I told everyone when J and I started solving cases.”

“I thought you were finding lost puppies or something, not chasing serial killers!”

“Not only did I tell you, I literally wrote everything we did on a publically available blog. Shows how much you two pay attention to me.”

“That’s it,” my mom snapped. She looked me directly in the eyes and leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees and bending over as if she were talking to a little kid.

“What about the math club?”

“What?” I replied. 

“It doesn’t have to be math,” she answered. “Whatever club at school you’d like the best. Why don’t you stop your little detective agency and join one?”

“Why would I ever do that!?”

“If you’d miss your friend, you can ask him to join a club with you.”

“He doesn’t go to my school. Or any other school. And that’s beside the point-”

“You like math don’t you? Don’t you need it for your computer stuff?”

“Mom that’s not how it-”

“You used to want to be a cheerleader when you were little. What happened to that? Or the soccer you used to do?”

“Would you stop? I’m not joining anything!”

My father finally chimed in. “You should join the debate team. You’d be great with how much you love arguing.”

I scoffed, “Am I supposed to just stop living my own life, give up the things I like and just mindlessly do everything you two pick out for me?”

“Joining a club at school isn’t a punishment, it’s what every other high school kid on the planet does! They join clubs and make friends and go to dances-”

He slammed his fist against the wall, causing a loud boom that echoed through our thin walls.

“Jesus Christ, Terra! Why can’t you just be normal?”

And then there was silence. My mother gasped and covered her mouth. I wanted to speak but my throat was swelling, and I could feel the tears building up in my eyes. Before I knew what I was going to do, I stood up from my seat. Without saying anything else, I grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and left the house.

“You picked an odd night for a walk,” J said, warming his hands with his breath. The city around was less alive than it had usually been. It was only five or six, but the sky had already turned black and the air was getting colder every second.

“Well, you know, just felt like stretching my legs, then I happened to be in your area,” I said, looking down at the sidewalk.

“Jeez,” he said, burying his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m no expert on climate change, but it was hotter than my mixtape two weeks ago and now I have to fight Sub-Zero every time I go outside. That can’t be the way it’s supposed to be.”

I zipped the top of my jacket to give my neck some coverage. The realization that winter was almost there was a bit of a surprise in that moment; it felt like my sophomore year of high school had just started, yet here we were almost three months in.

“So,” J went on. “We’ll be passing by the plaza in about forty steps. Should be ample time to decide: pizza or hot chocolates? I’m gonna go ahead and cross smoothies off the list, so what’s your mouth telling you right about now?”

“Uh…” I had barely registered his question. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want is fine.”

He didn’t say anything, he just sighed.

“What?” I asked.

“Something’s clearly on your mind,” he replied, not slowing his pace or turning his head. “Are you gonna say what it is?”

“Nothing,” I stammered. “I’ve just been studying for the PSATs all day, it’s a little stressful, you know. I take them soon, to get ready for the real ones next year.”

“Pfft, that’s it? The SATs are no big deal. Me, B and Y had to take them when were like nine. They were nothing.”

You took what when!? I sighed, realizing how pointless it would be to come to J with my problems. Of course he could never really relate to my life and the things I deal with, in the same way I could never relate to his. Our connection sometimes felt like we were kidding ourselves; just two lost kids bonded together by nothing but our mutual loneliness.

Suddenly, J froze in his tracks. It was so quick, every muscle on his body seemed to simultaneously shut down. I nearly bumped into him as I ground myself to a halt. Looking up, I saw his eyes were locked on something straight ahead.

“J,” I said. “What’s-”

Before I could get another word out, he spun around. His relaxed, casual expression was gone, replaced with the cold and focused look he got when we were on a case. His rand reached out to my shoulder to pull me in closer.

“Behind me,” he said in a hushed, careful voice. “On the other side of the crosswalk, beneath the light. Glance discreetly.”

With no further questioning, I looked over to where he specified. There stood a man with a notably striking appearance. A face of tan skin scowled behind behind black sunglasses, long hair hung down from a black fedora, and his broad shoulders were covered by a long, black leather coat. His black boot tapped impatiently as he checked his watch, revealing a black glove. 

J went on. “Over the last few months, there have been repeat sightings of a man in black lurking around the city. Witnesses describe sunglasses and a long coat.”

I thought back to our second case: The Girl Who Disappeared. It felt like forever ago even though it hadn’t actually been that long. I had almost completely forgotten the suspicious man in black that Leyla McLaren’s family described. 

“Are you sure it’s that man in black?” I asked

“Unless sunglasses at night is the new fashion trend, this has to be related.”

“In all the cases where we heard of him, he never actually turned out to be the bad guy. We don’t even know if he’s doing anything wrong.”

“True. But what are the odds he’s not? And what are the odds I’ll get another chance to find out?”

“How are you gonna-”

He raised his hand from his pocket, revealing one of the tracking bugs we had been gifted from Mr. Mathias. 

I nearly gasped. “You were carrying that on you while we were just hanging out?”

“I’m a detective, Terra. If you always knew when a mystery would happen they wouldn’t be mysteries. Look alive, he’s coming.”

Before I knew it, the light had changed and we were crossing the street. I nervously looked away as the man in black got closer and closer. It was then I heard his voice.

“Watch where you’re going!”

J didn’t respond. We crossed the street and continued walking along the sidewalk aimlessly for another thirty seconds or so. 

“Well,” I began as soon as I was sure the man was no longer in seeing range. “What now?”

J shrugged. “We should probably head back to my place and see if he does anything police report-worthy. Actually, it’s getting late so maybe you should-”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s go back.”

J walked over to his keyboard and switched it on, as he sometimes did when he was thinking. He began playing some classical piece I didn’t know, then after a few measures stopped and looked at me.

“I have a few thoughts about this black coat situation. The first is that it’s most likely not just one guy.”

“You mean there’s more?” I asked.

“A bunch of them, probably. We don’t live in some small town; the likelihood of one guy being seen by all these people in completely unrelated places is slim. It would make more sense if the reports were actually different men doing the same thing.”

“Okay, sure. But why?”

“That’s the real question. The only reason to coordinate going out in public like that would be to draw attention. But in reports and what we saw, the guy didn’t actually do anything or go out of his way to interact with anybody. So if I had to guess, the all black thing is either meant to be a distraction to get peoples’ attention away from something else, or it’s some type of dog whistle.”

“Dog whistle?”

“Something that’s meant to be noticed, but only by select people.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, his hands reaching down to play a little bit more of the song. His playing was always the most perfect and precise-sounding live piano I had ever heard, and it seemed like he was barely even paying attention to his hands as he did it. As suddenly as he started, he stopped.

“That’s probably it,” he continued. “This is a small organized group of people, and they appear in public in all black as part of some code for communication. Maybe they got together online or something and don’t know what each other look like, so they wear the black to identify each other when they meet up. Yeah, it’s probably something like that.”

He began pacing the room, his other thinking tradition. I sighed, checking my phone to see if the man in black had reached a new destination. The red dot was moving through the city at a steady pace and the wave form was still barely a squiggle, letting us know not much sound was being picked up.

“Anything yet?” J asked.

“He’s driving,” I answered. “I think someone else is in the car but they’re being quiet. Wait, I think they reached their place now.”

J hurried over to the couch. I cranked the volume of my phone as loud as it goes as he sat next to me.

“About time you showed up,” a frustrated guy called out from inside the building as our man in black assumedly entered. “I’ve been freezing to death here for hours now.”

“Wasn’t my fault,” replied our suspect. “It took awhile for the new guy to spot me. He’s waiting in the car right now.”

“You’re sure you two weren’t followed?”

“Of course. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you got some cops’ attention. And according to this brilliant plan, who’s gonna be here keeping watch overnight?”

“No one needs to.”

“What!?”

“Who’s gonna break into a place like this? And even if there was anything here to steal, what kind of burglar calls the police?”

“This is seriously risky! What if someone walking by hears-”

“Look, do you wanna get a sleeping bag and stay here? That’s what I thought. The boss guaranteed us nobody ever gets close to this building, and the only one of us it traces back to is him. He’s the most at risk and he’s fine with this. So would you come on already and shut up before you wake somebody?”

There was an angry grunt, then no more words were exchanged. The door closed and the sound of ruffling clothes told us they were walking. J and I met eyes. He then shook his head and ran a hand through his curls in thought.

“We don’t even know if he’s doing anything bad,” he scoffed, imitating me with an annoying high-pitched voice. “Good thing I never listen to you, huh?”

I ignored him. “We still don’t know what’s going on, aside from the fact that it’s clearly illegal. So what do we do now?”

“Mark the location.”

“For the police?”

“No. We don’t have anything solid enough for the police yet. I’m gonna go check it out. A building nobody enters where there’s no type of heating, probably an empty abandoned house.”

My throat tightened and I nearly dropped my phone.

“What!?” I spouted. “You can’t go there!”

“I can,” he replied, calm and unshaken. “We have to see what’s going on over there, the sooner the better. And this might be our only chance since we heard them say nobody was there keeping watch.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“What? You can’t.”

“Why not? You just said it’s safe.”

“Safe for me. One, you have parents at home and thereby a curfew. Two, most importantly, I only have one bike.”

“Well, uh: One, the tracking bug is already connected to software on my phone, and it’d be a waste of time putting it on yours and trying to show you how it works. Two, I already told you earlier not to worry about me.”

I spent the next forty minutes struggling to hold my balance and feeling like I was going to die as the metal handlebar of J’s bike painfully dug its way into my butt. The night air felt colder as it blew against my face, but my mind was too busy to care about that as we zoomed from sidewalk to sidewalk, weaving between cars when need be and only occasionally stopping to check the GPS on my phone. As unpleasant an experience as this was, it depressed me even more knowing I would rather be there than at home.

We arrived at the location, a big, black, old-fashioned house. We stood before a very rusty iron gate, which opened up to a cobblestone path that lead through tall, unkempt grass, all the way to the building itself. In the dark of the night, the flashlights J and I brought weren’t enough to make out much of what it looked like, but I could tell it had a certain gothic quality to it. It was the kind of stereotypical haunted house teenagers would dare each other to go into in movies.

With a loud screech, we passed through the gate and made our way to the building. Once on the porch, J knelt and took off his backpack. He pulled out Mathias’ lockpicking kit and got to work. I nervously looked around in case someone was walking by, realizing how shady we looked doing this. I didn’t wake up that morning thinking I would help J break into an abandoned house, but that’s just the type of life I had now.

Once inside, we were swallowed by the dark. There was no moonlight or street posts, just the beams of our flashlight moving across a void of black. The floorboards creaked with every step we took and the flashlights’ paths were cluttered with airborne dust. I raised my forearm to my mouth to filter my breath as much as I could as we made our way through what appeared to be some long hall. 

“What are we even looking for?” I asked.

“No idea,” J replied. “The mystery criminals weren’t too specific.”

Our voices resonated through the house. In response, the sounds of little things stirring echoed from inside the walls. 

“There’s a worst-case scenario, though. The man in black said something about ‘waking’ somebody. There’s no other houses close enough to hear anybody in here, so-”

I felt a light push against my foot, accompanied by the high, screeching yell of a rodent and the rapid scratching against the wooden floor as it ran away. I screamed at the top of my lungs and my leg reflexively twitched and kicked. 

“Terra,” J yelled, nearly dropping his flashlight. “It was just a mouse. Chill.”

Before I could calm down or say anything else, another voice chimed in.

“Is somebody there?” 

It was the yell of a female, sounding like an older woman. Her tone was urgent and her voice was shaky. Before we could even process it, she screamed out again.

“Somebody!? Can you hear me?”

I didn’t know what to do or say, but J started yelling back with no hesitation.

“Yes, we’re here!”

With that, the woman’s voice broke down into a near-hysterical cry.

“Help! Please help me! I can’t move, I can’t see!”

J burst into a run, plunging deeper into the house with no regard for anything. I nearly stumbled trying to catch up to him.

“Where are you?” he called out as he ran. “Keep making noise.”

We approached a wall with paths on either side. J waved the flashlight to his left and right, trying to decide which way to go.

“I’m all tied up,” the woman yelled. “It’s cramped in here.”

The direction of the sound was clear: it was coming from our left.

“Cramped?” J spoke to himself as we hurried in that direction. “Probably a closet or something.”

“We’re getting closer,” I called out, loud enough for the woman to hear. “Keep yelling!”

She carried on without anything to say, just a series of wales and sobs. Her voice grew closer and closer until it was right in front of us. Our flashlights revealed a door. J reached for the knob and I heard the metal clank against its socket as he struggled trying to turn it. The woman calmed down a bit, realizing we were right beside her.

“It’s locked,” J sighed. “If you have space in there, get as far back as you can. I’m gonna kick it down.”

“Okay,” the woman let out as she struggled to catch her breath. “I’ll try.”

J nudged me. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

The two of us kicked as hard as we could. A loud thud echoed through the house, but the door remained in place. Two tries later, we heard the snapping of a wooden frame. He slowly and carefully opened the door. He was right; it was a walk-in closet. In the center of these four enclosed walls, a figure lay on the ground. The flashlights illuminated a formal red blazer and matching skirt, arms and legs bound together by rope, blonde hair, and a blindfold covering a face that had been turned bright red. The woman’s mouth hung open, surrounded by remnants of black tape she had somehow managed to scrape off, gasping for air and groaning in agony.

“It’s okay,” J said, kneeling down gently shaking the woman by her shoulder. “You’re safe. We’re gonna get you out now.”

J and I sat on the sidewalk outside of the empty house as what must have been a dozen police men walked in and out. Deputy Allen looked stepped out of the building with his face buried in his hand. His coat was gone, now covering the woman until a shock blanket could arrive. J and I stood up as soon as we saw him, rushing over to talk.

“Allen,” J called out as he approached us. “What’s going on? Who is that woman?”

Deputy Allen gave an exasperated sigh. “Denise Abelson. The wife of a judge. She was attacked and then knocked out with some type of sedative. Next thing she remembers is waking up in that closet. But she’s the least of our problems.”

“What?” J replied. “What could be worse than this?”

“She was attacked while with her husband, and now he’s missing too. It’s safe to assume the kidnappers still have him.”

“Jesus. Does she have any idea where he might be?”

“No. We have no leads whatsoever, aside from what you told us about the man in black. Did you two really follow his car all the way here on a bike?”

“Of course not. We stuck a tracking device on him and got his location from there.”

“You what!? Where did you even get- Ugh, nevermind. Did you get anything else from it?”

J looked over to me. “Well,” I answered. “I sent you an email with the coordinates of their current location, which is probably his house or their hideout or something. I also attached a recording of their conversation.”

Allen’s face lit up with a shocked smile. “Wow, that’s actually great! We can head over and find them tonight.”

“Not all of them,” J interjected. “The black coats appear to be a group, there’s no telling how big or small. We can lead you to at least one of them but who knows where the rest are. It’s a hunch, but they probably left the other kidnapping up to a different set of guys.”

He raised a hand to his chin and zoned out, lost in thought.

“My theory is the black outfits are some kind of communication system between them. They prefer these complicated live, in-person meetups to risking remote contact, which not only tells us they’re cautious, but that there’s a lack of trust and familiarity between members. They have a boss and they impersonally refer to him as such, meaning their relationship with him is more of employment than partnership. That means the only way to understand this whole operation and its goal is to learn who he is.”

J stopped, looking up as if realizing how long he had gone on.

Deputy Allen sighed once more. “God, kid. Who on Earth taught you all this stuff?”

Despite the situation, a part of me wanted to laugh just then. If only you knew.

“Look,” Allen said. “You two helped out a lot tonight. But from this point on, this doesn’t involve you. I know you’re both tired of hearing us all tell you how dangerous this stuff is, but the way your last little adventure ended was pure luck; I can’t be there every time you get into trouble.”

He then put his hand on my shoulder and looked down right into my eyes.

“Terra, you’re a double liability for all of us. Luckily, you’re clearly the sensible one. Whatever happens next, just think it through, alright?”

Allen had arranged for one of the cops at the scene to drive us home. We didn’t know him, and that fact reminded me how much of the local police we actually did come to know these last few months. J told the guy he would be spending the night at my house, which he trusted since my dad was the Chief and all. Truthfully, though, he just said that so we would get a little more time to talk free of police eavesdropping.

“I have to come in for a sec,” J whispered to me as he walked his bike up my driveway. “He won’t drive off until we both get in the house.”

I nodded, reaching in my jacket for my keys. I opened the door and let us both in, as quietly as possible and without turning on any lights. Gently closing the door behind us, I looked around through the darkness. Thankfully, it appeared my parents were both asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief, then looked over to J.

“You’re not gonna listen to Deputy Allen, are you?” I asked. “You’re going to try and find more on the men in black and their boss, right?”

He scoffed. “You know me too well to ask a question like that.”

He was right. I didn’t know why I even asked.

“Then I’ll help,” I said. “What should I do?”

“Well, if you’ll be up for a little bit, find out who the missing judge is by looking up his wife, Denise Abelson. Then, look up the address of the empty house and make a list of the people who might have access to it.”

“Okay, cool. I can do that.”

“Great. We’ll meet at O’Malley’s tomorrow morning and go over what you found. Cross referencing the two searches should lead us to the answer.”

“Right. I’m on it, then.”

He paused for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“By the way, Terra,” he said. “Sorry for this.”

“Sorry for what?”

“You came out tonight to clear your head and we ended up on a case. Sorry you were in a bad mood trying to relax and something crazy like this had to happen.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t-”

“I know you had an argument with your parents.”

I was taken aback. “How did you know that.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Your neck.”

My hand shot up to my own neck, feeling around it defensively.

“What about it?” I asked.

He answered. “I can see it. The only thing you love as much as your computers is your scarf collection. You have a different one on every chance you get. I mean, I spend more time with you than anyone and the only time I’ve seen your bare neck before tonight was when you were in a formal dress. The fact that you didn’t have one on, especially on a chilly night like this, probably means you stormed out of the house without taking time to grab one. Then when you saw me you were quiet and visibly upset, but acted like nothing was wrong. So it was pretty obvious what happened.”

I sighed, staring down at my floorboards. “It’s no use trying to keep things from you, huh?”

I thought back to my father’s words, which I had been trying to block out from my mind the whole night.

“My parents think our cases are dangerous,” I explained. “Which, I mean, they kind of are. But it’s not really about that; they’ve been like this before I met you. It’s really about them being sick of how weird and antisocial I am, wishing I could just be like all their friends’ kids and make parenting simple for them. It’s like they’re just not happy with the daughter they got and want a refund or something.”

My voice began to shake and my face warmed up again. Before I knew it, I was fighting back tears again. That’s when I felt J’s hand on my arm. I looked up at him, even more surprised to see he was smiling.

“Listen, Terra,” he said. “One of the worst parts about being a kid is that grownups are always trying to decide things for us. That’s what their job starts as, after all. When the time comes that we have our own identities and make our own choices, it scares them. It’s easier to convince themselves we’re only helpless babies going through phases than admit we’re just growing up into people different from what they expected; people they don’t understand.”

He lifted his hand from my arm, placing it behind his head as he leaned back against my door and looked up to my ceiling. He went on,

“It scares them how the more you grow and change, the harder it is to help you. It doesn’t matter, though; you can’t let any adult’s fear stop you from being the person you are. To everyone else, let that identity be undefinable.”

I didn’t know what to say. We were just silent for a moment, as J looked back out through my window. 

“The coast is clear,” he reported. “I should bounce.”

“Are you sure you wanna bike home this late?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine. Riding alone helps me think anyway.”

He opened my door and started wheeling his bike out, then turned back to me once more.

“See you tomorrow, Tee. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I replied. And with that he was gone.

For a while I just stood there in the darkness and the silence, thinking about what he had said. Maybe J and I were different. Maybe our lives and the circumstances we dealt with were worlds apart, and thus maybe it was impossible to understand each other. But he tried anyway. Always. Loneliness is something I’ve known my whole life, but now even when it feels like nobody in the whole, wide world cares, that smartass knowitall always has my back. The lump in my throat was gone, and for the first time all day I felt myself smiling.

The next morning, I woke up without even remembering going to bed. Researching the kidnapped woman and the judge led to a whole rabbit hole of history behind the courthouse. I brushed my teeth and picked out my clothes as fast as I could, in the utmost hurry to share what I found with J. Once dressed, I threw on my newest scarf as I made my way down the stairs. But before I reached the door I heard my mother’s voice call out.

“Terra,” she said. “Where are you going?”

I turned to see my parents sitting on the couch with cups of coffee, as if they were waiting for me. My father was as still as a statue, staring down at his drink with an embarrassed look on his face.

“I have to go meet J,” I answered, avoiding eye contact. “We’re just going to O’Malley’s to talk.”

“Terra, we need to talk.”

“Actually, I’d argue we should do that less.”

“I know we all got pretty emotional and a lot of things were said-”

“One thing was said. No use beating around the bush after the fact.”

I sighed, finally opting to look my mom in the eye. 

“Look,” I said. “I know you guys only freak out because you care, but you have to learn there’s more to caring than trying to force me to be a kid I’m not. You’re my parents and I love you, but I’m done feeling bad about myself because of the expectations you two made up.”

My dad looked up for the first time this whole conversation, his eyes big and gentle for once.

“Terra,” he said, as if treading lightly and fumbling for his next words. “I never meant to-”

“It’s okay, dad,” I cut him off. “Sometimes I wish you were normal too. But I guess we’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?”

And with that I turned back to the door and left my house.

“So what did you find?” J asked as he set our drinks onto the table and sat beside me. 

“Tons,” I replied, turning my laptop’s screen toward him. “Turns out the judge, Clint Abelson, is a known associate of everyone’s favorite lawyer.”

“Angela Lannister, huh? Figures.”

“He’s had repeat investigations done on what people consider to be unfair trials but somehow always comes away from it with no consequences. He’s been untouchable in the same way as Lannister.”

“Until now, that is. Well now we know this kidnapping is most likely revenge-based. Anything on the empty house?”

I switched the tab on my laptop to another page of information I compiled. 

“Well,” I went on. “It belonged to a very old man named Joseph Smith, who’s been long dead. It was inherited by his daughter, Amelia Smith-Greystone. And there’s our connection; she died only a few years ago in a car crash. Her case was handled by the judge, Clint Abelson.”

J’s eyes were now lit up with the usual excitement a case gave him. 

“Got it. I think it’s safe to rule out her dead father as the suspect, so I assume you’ve looked into her husband, Mr. Greystone?”

“Of course. Simon H. Greystone, age fifty-seven. Formerly a college professor in the field of mechanical engineering, now in early retirement and making a continued living off the stock market. A known recluse. Records of his personal life after his wife’s death are basically non-existent.”

J smiled, raising his fist in excitement. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have the black coats’ ringleader! Simon Greystone.”

I reached for my drink. “Isn’t there something you forgot to say?” 

He took a big sip of his. “Well, this one was mostly you. Why don’t you do the honors?”

With a proud smile, I closed my laptop and declared, “Solved!”

Suddenly, my phone vibrated on the table. I looked down to a notification from a news app. In that glance, my eyes picked up the words ‘emergency’ and ‘courthouse’.

“What the hell?” I thought aloud, opening my laptop back up again. I pulled up a livestream of the news, to see an army of police and camera crews surrounding a building.

“What’s going on?” J asked, getting closer to me and looking at the screen.

“No one has been injured,” reported the woman on the screen. “The police theorize the first explosion was only a warning…” 

 She went on, as the video feed cut to a shot through a window that showed everyone inside running to the far ends of the building. In the center of it all stood a lone figure in a long coat. As the camera zoomed in, I saw it was none other than Clint Abelson. The formerly missing judge stood there, with a horrified face full of tears and a large metal bomb strapped to his chest.

Continued in the next story: ‘The Death Code’