by J. Blanes
Before Dylan could answer that, Keira’s phone rang with a call from Detective Powell.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said politely. “We found a car we believe is from the hit-and-run you witnessed last Friday. It was abandoned a few miles from the scene. We’re almost 100 percent sure we have the right car, but we need you to come down to corroborate that we have the right kind of car. We’ll need your statement on file as evidence. Could you come today and take a look at it?”
Keira could barely contain her excitement. Here was a chance to insert herself into the investigation and gather more information for her story. “Of course, no problem,” she replied. “In fact, I’m available right now.”
“Excellent,” the detective said, adding all the details about the location of the car.
“How’s the woman?” Keira asked him before he could hang up. “Is she OK?”
The detective paused for a second, pondering whether to tell her the news or not. “She died last night,” he said finally. “This is now also a murder investigation.”
The detective’s answer caught Keira by surprise. This was terrible news, and she felt extremely sad for the victim, but the image of her body lying on the road spurred a sudden feeling of anger that surpassed any other emotion.
“Are you OK?” It was the voice of the detective on the phone.
“Yes,” Keira replied. “I’ll be there in an hour. Just one last question, what was her name?”
“Melissa. Melissa Lewis,” he replied before hanging up.
Keira remained silent, looking down at her phone, thinking.
“What happened?” Dylan asked interrupting her thoughts.
She looked at him and repeated what Detective Powell had told her.
“I’m going with you,” Dylan offered when she finished.
“No, not today,” she said unexpectedly as she got on her feet. “But I’m going to need your help with a story. I’ll call you tomorrow with more info.” She said good-bye, leaving Dylan speechless.
An hour later, Keira was with Detective Powell in front of the car abandoned on a solitary road. The whole area had been secured, and it was swarming with police and other law-enforcement personnel. People from the crime lab were gathering evidence from inside the car.
The car was an old Ford Taurus, and it was obvious that its owner hadn’t cared much about it. It had a big dent in the front and another one in the windshield, which also had some brownish stains on it. Keira recognized them as blood.
“Well, what do you think?” the detective asked. “Does it fit with what you saw?”
Keira nodded. “Yes, it does. The size, shape, and color are the same.”
“Excellent,” the detective exclaimed, smiling. “That’s all we need for now. It’s important for our case that we don’t have inconsistencies between the evidence and witness accounts.”
“Do you know who the owner is?” Keira asked suddenly. She wanted details, and the detective’s good mood provided a good starting point. At least, that was what she thought.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose details pertaining to an ongoing investigation,” the detective replied plainly.
“I understand,” Keira said in disappointment.
“Thank you for coming here so fast. I’ll be in touch if we need something else.” The detective shook her hand and left.
Keira left the scene more frustrated than ever. None of her questions had been answered, and her curiosity about the case was growing by the minute. Her story wasn’t even a story without details, and if the police wouldn’t cooperate, then so be it; she had other means to find them. The trip hadn’t been a total waste of time; she had memorized the license plate.
A morning storm was developing outside, and a powerful thunder shook the whole house, waking Keira up on Monday. She took a shower and ate a cereal bar for breakfast while organizing her day. She had established that her first objective was to find the car’s owner, and for that, she would need Dylan’s help. She called him and explained what she wanted from him.
“Why would I do that?” Dylan was working at a car-rental dealer near the airport, and as usually, he was not happy with Keira’s crazy requests. “Do you really think I’m going to help you with this? I won’t do it—forget it!” he concluded firmly, but much less firmly than the efforts he put that afternoon into finding the owner of the car that had been used in the hit-and-run.
Dylan was not a bright guy. Barely able to finish high school, he started working as soon as he was seventeen, helping his mother pay the bills and spending most of his free time in the streets, trying to impress a beautiful young girl from the local gang who lived near the park at the end of the street. The girl never felt any attraction for him. He was average height, average face, average look, and average everything, and she usually ended mocking him for being so boring or stupid, or both. However, Dylan never gave up. She was like a queen without fault in his eyes, and day after day, after leaving work, he went looking for her and tried to be accepted by the gang. Drugs and drug trafficking were commonplace, but he never dared to use drugs because of his fear of losing his job, despite the fact that he knew this was one of the main reasons the gang rejected him. He knew how important it was to keep his job for his mother, and anyway, he thought that his persistence would pay off in the end.
One day, after being sick at home for a week, he was eager to resume his quest for his loved one, but he could not find the gang at their usual spot. He asked around, and after he gave a homeless guy ten bucks, he learned that some youngsters had died several days ago from drug poisoning after they had injected themselves with an unknown new drug. The homeless man had been near the crime scene and heard the cops talk about it. Dylan didn’t believe him, but days later, he discovered the truth: the whole gang had died from a twisted drug experiment gone awry that some powerful drug lord had carried out in his neighborhood, just to see whether the drug worked out or not.
From that day on, Dylan promised himself never to go back to the streets, a promise he had been able to keep for almost five years, until he met Keira. She was always looking for some information for her next story, and Dylan’s street smarts made him her perfect informant. He had never been able to reject her requests; she was the daughter of the woman he now considered his own adopted mother, and she was way too smart for him to even try changing her mind. Once she had a target in sight, she hunted it until the end, no matter what.
With the license plate number Keira provided, Dylan had no problem in finding out the identity of the car’s owner. It was an old woman, almost deaf, the victim of a carjacking that same Friday. She assumed that Dylan was with the police and described her assailants. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Dylan to start his investigation.
Dylan met with Keira every Sunday for the next two weeks, giving her all the information he had compiled during the week. For her part, she was finding out more about Melissa’s last weeks from her family and friends to the nurses who’d attended her at the hospital.
Spring break came, and almost everybody went abroad on vacation—the hotter the place, the better. Dylan also had a few days off and insisted on going to visit Albert, a good friend who lived in the countryside, but Keira’s decided instead to go to her parents’ home, to rest as much as she could as well as to organize her ideas and the storyline up to this point. The last weeks had been hectic, and she was very tired and badly in need of a break. She thought Dylan also deserved a rest from the investigation and told him to go on to Albert’s alone. He had helped her more than she could ever repay him, and although she felt she had no choice, she also felt guilty for using him like that. She wrote a note in her phone to remember to buy him something nice in return.
The first evening at home, her much-deserved rest was cut short before it had even begun. She received an unexpected call from a hospital, with some shocking news; D
ylan had been in a car accident. He had been at the hospital for a few hours now and had given them Keira’s number as soon as he regained consciousness, but he couldn’t talk because of his face injury.
Keira arrived at the hospital an hour later. Her mom was in the lobby, already waiting for her. Keira had called her on her way there, and she had arrived sooner because she had been shopping nearby.
“Is he OK?” her mom asked, visibly worried.
“I don’t know,” Keira replied. “They didn’t want to give me details over the phone, but I know he’s awake.”
They rushed to the information counter and got Dylan’s room number. Minutes later, they were in his room. Dylan was sleeping in his bed with a bandage around his head and another one on his left cheek. He must have heard them, because he woke up the moment they approached the bed.
“Are you OK?” Keira’s mom asked.
Dylan nodded.
They both wanted to know what had happened, but it was obvious that Dylan shouldn’t talk in his condition. Keira’s mom grabbed a chair and sat down. Dylan fell asleep again, and they stayed with him until visiting hours were over.
The next day, Keira’s mom couldn’t cancel a previous appointment, and only Keira was with Dylan in his hospital room. He was still sleeping, and Keira sat in silence, reading a magazine she had bought for him.
“What are you doing here?”
The familiar voice of Detective Powell coming from the room’s door surprised her. She raised her eyes and stared at him in astonishment. What was the detective doing there? “I…I…” For once, she was at a loss for words. “He’s a friend,” she finally said.
“Well, that’s interesting,” the detective remarked. “What a coincidence, if it’s a coincidence at all.”
Now Keira was intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Friday you were a hit-and-run witness, and yesterday your friend was a shooting victim.”
“A shooting?” Keira was astonished to hear this. “But they told me it was a car accident!”
“It was, after he was shot,” the detective clarified.
Keira couldn’t believe it. A shooting? “I…I didn’t know.”
“I was at the scene yesterday, but I couldn’t talk to him. He left in an ambulance still unconscious.”
“That’s what they told me, but they didn’t mention a shooting,” Keira replied, still having a hard time accepting the news.
“I see. Have you spoken to him?” the detective inquired.
“No, not yet,” she replied, “but he was awake for a moment and he really seemed fine.”
“Well, as far as I know the bullet only grazed his cheek, but it caused him to lose control of the car and crash into another car parked on the street,” the detective explained.
Keira was relieved by this news, but her relief only lasted for a second.
“Do you know what he was doing yesterday afternoon in that part of town?” the detective went on. “It wasn’t the safest place to wander by, to say the least.”
Keira stared at the detective. That part of town. Of course! Instead of getting a break from the case and going to Albert’s, he’d stayed and kept investigating, probably because he knew it was important for her! “Oh my God!” she exclaimed when she realized that Dylan could’ve been shot because of her.
She sat down and explained to the detective everything they had done for the last two weeks, with special details on Dylan’s investigation.
The detective wasn’t happy at all, but seeing her guilt, he felt sorry for her. “To be honest, we don’t know whether the bullet was intended for him or was just a stray bullet,” he said when she finished. “Unfortunately, it’s a fairly common occurrence over in that part of town. That doesn’t mean it’s OK for you to play with fire. This isn’t a game, and you should let the pros do their job.”
Keira wasn’t listening anymore. She simply sat motionless, staring at Dylan.
“I’d appreciate a call when he wakes up,” the detective said before leaving.
Keira leaned forward on her chair and buried her face in her hands.
If only she had listened to him; they should’ve gone to Albert’s as Dylan had proposed.
Dylan sat on his bed. He had been in observation for two more days because of his concussion, but in the end, the doctors didn’t find anything to worry about. His cheek’s scar was also healing well, and his doctors had decided to discharge him this morning. Keira was there to drive him home, happy for his recovery, but still upset because of his little solo adventure.
“What were you thinking?” Keira raised her voice. “You could’ve been killed. Do you know how worried I was?”
“I was just following a lead, nothing dangerous.” In contrast to hers, Dylan’s voice was paused and calmed. “By the way, that detective questioned me yesterday about what I was doing over there,” Dylan informed her. “I told him all about my findings. He was genuinely impressed by my investigative skills.”
“Yeah, right,” Keira scoffed.
“No, really, he was,” Dylan complained. “He even told me that some details I gave him would help close his investigation much sooner.”
“Really?” Now Keira was the one to be impressed.
“You can call him if you don’t believe me,” Dylan said, visibly hurt by her disbelief. “He even told me the shots weren’t fired at me. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.”
“I know. He had told me too, but I don’t care. You should’ve told me about that lead,” she said adamantly.
“I followed a lot of leads like that one in the last two weeks and I only informed you about them on the weekends,” he replied equally adamant. “Explain me why this one should’ve been different.”
Keira was about to say something, but Dylan’s logic prevented her to come up with a good reason. In the end, she scoffed and said nothing. Dylan smiled, but didn’t dare to say another word. He knew better than to push his luck. They’d been in silence for a while when Keira said something that astonished him.
“Wait a second,” Dylan said gravely as he grabbed his phone.
“What are you doing?” Keira asked, intrigued.
“I’m recording it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I need to record it for posterity.” He put his phone in recording mode and put it in front of her mouth. “Now, repeat that again for me,” he said with a grin.
“You’re pushing it,” she said menacingly, but she lowered her head and repeated her words. “You were right.”
“Aha!” Dylan exclaimed, satisfied. “Wow! I never thought I’d live long enough to hear those words from you. I think I’m going to cry,” he joked again. Dylan not only had finally convinced Keira to forget about her investigation for a while and go to Albert’s farm, but she’d even conceded that they should have left when he had first proposed it.
“As I said, don’t push it,” she repeated, pretending to be offended. Inside, she was extremely happy to see her friend in such a good mood.
“So, when do we leave?” he asked excitedly.
“This weekend,” she replied. “I already called Albert, and we only need to clear it with Detective Powell.”
“Nice, I’m dying to go there.”
Keira couldn’t say anything else, as the nurse interrupted them. Dylan was discharged, and Keira drove him home.
TWO
The train’s movements were smooth despite its speed. It was a beautiful day in the countryside, and the last days’ events seemed like a distant memory. Keira had her head resting on the window glass, captivated by the charming farms and fields passing by in rapid succession. It was hypnotizing, and she let the warm feeling take over her body.
A sudden jolt woke her up from her drowsy state, and she stretched her arms. Dylan was sleeping next to her, and her movements woke him up, too.
“Are we there yet?” he mumbled, still sleepy.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up,” she apologized. “Keep sleeping. We’re not even halfway there yet.”
Dylan didn’t reply; he was already asleep again.
They had about two more hours left before reaching their final destination, where Albert would be waiting to pick them up. Albert was the adopted son of two successful local lawyers. His parents had named him Albert because of his father’s fixation with everything related to his idol, Albert Einstein. They all lived on a comfortable, some would even say luxurious, country farm. At age eighteen, three years younger than Keira and four younger than Dylan, Albert was not only the youngest but by far the tallest and smartest of the three. His prominent figure rose to a slightly overweight six feet four inches, with not a single ounce of muscle. His presence, nevertheless, commanded respect. Despite his excellent grades and some eccentric habits, he was not considered a nerd but more a socially gifted geek. He never dressed unfashionably for his age or behaved like a loner; he loved to be left alone to immerse himself in his studies and experiments, but he never shunned social contact when he had spare time and the chance arose. He even played the saxophone for a local club band on Saturday nights.
Keira had met him for the first time in a state chess tournament. Her father had introduced her to the chess world when she was only six, and she promptly showed an aptitude for the game. At age ten, she could already beat her father easily, and he proudly decided to enlist her in some local tournaments. She never lost a game, even to kids much older than herself, and became a sort of local chess legend. She even improved her game more by studying her favorite chess masters: Capablanca, Fischer, and Kasparov. She felt invincible—until she played against Albert.
She was eighteen, and it was her first state tournament. She had reached the final easily, without a single game lost, as always, and her rival in the final was Albert, a giant boy of only fifteen. He also had won all his games, and public expectations were high. It was going to be a final for the history books. Bets were illegal, but the game interest rose beyond the point where the law could deter the vice of illegal gambling.
