by Lucas Flint
Putting the phone against my ear, I said, “Hey, Kyle, what’s up?”
“Jack? Are you there?” said Kyle, whose voice sounded really worried over the phone. “You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”
“Why would I be?” I said. “What’s the matter?”
“I just heard the news but I wasn’t sure if it was true or not, so I thought I’d call you up and find out myself,” said Kyle. “It’s hard to know what to believe nowadays, you know, with all of this fake news stuff floating around, but—”
“Kyle, you’re rambling,” I interrupted. “What are you calling about? What fake news?”
Kyle took a deep breath. “I heard that Baron Glory was assassinated in downtown Rumsfeld today. And the police are blaming his assassination on you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Despite the fact that TW and I had been discussing that very possibility just seconds ago, it was still an unpleasant shock to my system to hear Kyle say that aloud. “What? But Baron Glory hasn’t been dead for even an hour. Why are they already blaming me?”
“I don’t know,” said Kyle, “but I like your response, because you’re not acting like a guilty guy. You’re acting like you were falsely accused of a crime you didn’t commit.”
“That’s because I was falsely accused of a crime I didn’t commit,” I said in annoyance. “Where did you hear this?”
“Just on the local news station,” said Kyle. “Dad turned the TV on because he said there was going to be a news report on Baron Glory’s arrival in Rumsfeld, but as soon as he turned it on, there was this news report about Baron Glory being assassinated and Trickshot being the prime suspect in the investigation.”
This still made no sense to me. How could the police have already decided that I was the prime suspect in the crime? Because I happened to be there at the time? And why was the news reporting on it as if it were fact? Maybe news traveled faster than I thought.
“Were you even there when he was killed?” said Kyle. “Because when I heard the news, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The report said the police chased you and you ran away, but—”
“Yeah, I was there,” I interrupted. “But I didn’t kill Baron. I wanted to catch a glimpse of Baron Glory because I’m such a big fan of his. I was just as surprised at his assassination as anyone else. Trust me on that.”
“I do, but I wonder who the actual assassin is,” said Kyle. “Did you manage to see him?”
“I didn’t just see the assassin,” I said. “I chased him down, which is more than the police did, by the way. And almost caught him, too, but he got away at the last minute and I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing now.”
“That’s not good,” said Kyle. “Who hired him to kill Baron? And why would anyone want to kill Baron? He’s one of the greatest supers of all time.”
“I don’t know the answers to any of those questions,” I said. I glanced at the eyepiece in my other hand. “But I do have a piece of evidence that might help us find out who killed Baron. And I want to give it to you.”
“Me?” said Kyle in surprise. “Why me? I’m not a super like you. I’m not much of a help in fighting crime.”
“You don’t need to fight anything,” I replied. “All you need to do is study the evidence and tell me what you find. It’s a mechanical eyepiece of some sort that seems to help the user focus on long distance targets. It can also double as a flash bomb, but don’t worry, it’s already went off once, so it probably won’t go off again if you take it apart.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Kyle. “I’ll definitely take a look at it if you want me to. If it will help you find the actual killer and prove your innocence, then I’m all for it.”
“Good,” I said. “Let’s meet in Rumsfeld City Park later today at lunch. I’ll give it to you there. See you later.”
I ended the call and looked at TW. “Looks like you were right about the police blaming me for Baron’s death.”
TW smirked. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but—”
“Yeah, I know,” I interrupted, rising to my feet and putting my phone back into my pocket. “Anyway, we need to get out of here and head to the Park. I don’t want to miss my meeting with Kyle, because I have a feeling that this eyepiece is the smoking gun for this entire case.”
-
Rumsfeld City Park was located on the west side of Rumsfeld itself. It was almost as old as the city itself, having originally started out as the private garden of Harold Rumsfeld, the founder of Rumsfeld, who donated it to the city after his death for them to develop into a park open to the public. The only reason I knew that was because Dad did some construction work in the Park a few years back when they were building a new community center and one of his coworkers told me about it when I visited the job site once.
It was a very beautiful park, too, with plenty of large, shady trees, a large pond full of quacking ducks, and even a small beach area for families to bring their kids. I chose the southwest corner of the Park, because it was the most secluded part of the Park, which would give me and Kyle the privacy we needed to conduct our transaction without being seen. It kind of felt like a spy movie, I have to admit, but I didn’t let myself get carried away with such notions because the last thing I needed was to mess up at this crucial time and make things harder than they should.
Sitting at the lone picnic table, I looked around the area. There weren’t too many people here at the moment. There were a couple of kids throwing bread at some ducks in a nearby pond, while a young-looking couple who I didn’t recognize were walking along the path and talking to each other like they were on some kind of date. Absolutely no one was paying attention to me, which was fine by me, because I had come here specifically because I didn’t want anyone paying attention to me. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint noises of power tools being used by the workers who were putting up a new statue of Harold Rumsfeld, the founder of Rumsfeld, though it wouldn’t be unveiled for another week or so.
That was when I saw Kyle walking down the main pathway. He was dressed in his usual green t-shirt and jeans, but when he saw me, he stepped off the main pathway and made his way over to me, his backpack swinging behind him. He took a seat at the other side of the picnic table and readjusted his glasses, which had slid down his nose slightly when he sat down.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Kyle. “I had to drop Mom off at the salon first, which took a while because the traffic was really bad for some reason.”
I nodded. Because Kyle was older than me by a few months, he already had his driver’s license, though he hadn’t had it for very long. It made me a little jealous, because I really wanted to get my driver’s license too, but at the same time I didn’t obsess over it. And anyway, given the Trickshot Watch gave me the ability to fly, it wasn’t like I was hurting for quick, easy transportation anyway.
“So where’s the, uh, clue?” said Kyle, leaning in, probably to make sure no one overheard us.
“Clue? What clue?”
“You know.” Kyle looked around conspiratorially as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping on us. “The eyepiece.”
“Oh, that,” I said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Kyle looked at me as if I was an idiot. “I thought we were trying to keep this a secret, so I came up with a codeword to describe the eyepiece. That way, if someone was overhearing us, they wouldn’t know what we’re talking about.”
I looked around once again. The children who had been feeding the ducks were apparently done, walking away back up the main path, while the young couple I had noticed before were also well outside of our hearing range. By all appearances, Kyle and I were the only people in this part of the Park at the moment.
“I don’t think codewords are necessary,” I said, looking at Kyle again. “At least, not right now.”
“You’re probably right,” said Kyle with a sigh. “I just wanted it to be like a spy movie, you know? But whatever. Where is the eyepiece?”
Kyle took the device and turned it over in his hands interestedly. “This looks pretty advanced. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Same here,” I said. “Like I said, I think it’s supposed to help the user aim better and also doubles as a flash bomb. Otherwise, I don’t know what else it does or how it works.”
“Wait,” said Kyle, looking up at me suddenly. “Doesn’t this technically count as evidence? Shouldn’t you give it to the police so they can use it to track down the real killer of Baron Glory?”
I scratched the back of my head. “Well, I don’t really trust the police right now, given how they think I’m the killer. If I gave them the eyepiece, I’m not sure if they would even accept it. I figure I can clear my name if I just find the real killer and bring him to the police myself.”
“Okay,” said Kyle, though he seemed a little skeptical about my reasoning. “Well, I’ll work on it a bit this afternoon in my workshop and see what I can find. If I find any clues that will help you find the killer, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”
“Great,” I said.
“And what are you going to do in the meantime?” said Kyle as he put the eyepiece in his backpack.
“Keep a low profile for now, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “The police were already looking for me, but now that everyone thinks I’m a murderer, I have to spend even more time on the down low. I’ll probably just spend more time practicing my skills.”
“Shouldn’t you try to find the killer?” said Kyle. “I know you’re not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but looking for the killer seems like a better way to spend your time than training.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing I’ll do,” I said. I rested my chin in my hands. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where to begin, other than with the eyepiece. I have no other clues for where the killer might be and no clue where to start looking.”
“Maybe you should try looking in the area where the shooter killed Baron,” Kyle suggested. “Go to the scene of the crime and see if you can find any clues, you know?”
“Good idea,” I said. “But the police have probably already scoured the scene of the crime. If the shooter left behind any clues or evidence, I’m sure the police have already gotten it.”
“Maybe, but it’s still worth a check,” said Kyle. “It’s better than sitting around doing nothing, right?”
I nodded. “Good point. I’ll head back there tomorrow, then, to see if I can find any more evidence of the shooter’s identity or whereabouts.”
“And I will spend as much time as I can on the eyepiece,” said Kyle, patting his backpack. “With luck, I’ll have some answers for you soon, though I don’t know how soon.”
“Just do it as fast as you can,” I said. “Because the longer the real killer remains free, the more people start to believe that I’m the killer.”
“Okay, okay,” said Kyle. He rose from his seat, but then paused and said, “What’s that?”
I looked over my shoulder, but saw nothing except for trees and bushes. “What’s what?”
“I thought I saw something,” said Kyle. “A person watching us.”
I strained my eyes, but I didn’t see anything other than a few bumblebees buzzing around some flowers, perhaps trying to collect the last bit of nectar that they could. “Yeah, I don’t see anyone there. You must just be seeing things.”
Kyle pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t know, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I just saw a shadow under the trees move or something. In any case, I should get going. I don’t want to waste any time studying this thing, especially if it helps you prove your innocence. See you later.”
With that, Kyle slung his backpack over his shoulder and left, walking back onto and up the path until he rounded a corner and disappeared from view.
“Kyle saw something,” said TW in my head as soon as Kyle disappeared.
“What?” I said under my breath, even though I was alone in this part of the Park.
“Kyle saw something,” TW said. “His eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He really did see something.”
I frowned and looked over my shoulder. “I don’t see anything.”
“I did,” said TW. “Or, rather, my sensors picked up a heat presence that resembles the typical heat presence given off by an adult male. They’re not there anymore, but I recommend going over and checking out their hiding place just in case.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” I said, scowling. “I’m sure Kyle would have been glad to know that he wasn’t hallucinating.”
“I wasn’t sure if the person was an enemy or not,” said TW. “If it turned out to be a foe, I didn’t want to drag Kyle into a possible fight.”
TW was already starting to sound a lot like me, which I suppose was due to my influence over his personality. “Fine. I’ll go over there, but I’m not sure you didn’t just sense a really big squirrel or something. Seriously, the squirrels around here are fat.”
“I doubt it was a squirrel, even a really ‘big’ one,” said TW.
“It was a joke, man.”
“Well, I’m not laughing.”
“That’s because you don’t have a sense of humor.”
Nonetheless, I rose from the picnic table and walked over to the bushes where Kyle had claimed to have seen something. I half-expected a squirrel to pop out of the bushes and run away, but the closer I got to them, nothing happened, except making me feel like this was a big waste of time. Still, TW’s sensors were usually reliable, so I told myself I would just check it out really quick and then go home.
Crossing through the bushes, I looked around once again, but like I thought, I was alone. I did not see any other human beings here. I didn’t even see any squirrels.
“Well, it looks like there’s no one here,” I said. “Like I said, a squirrel or something probably just tripped your sensors accidentally. Nothing to worry about.”
TW flashed into existence before me, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the grass with a curious expression on his face. “Then where did those footprints come from?”
I looked down at the grass. A single set of footprints were visible in the grass, and they definitely weren’t my footprints, because they were smaller than mine. They looked more like a woman’s footprints, though again I didn’t see any people nearby.
“They’re very fresh,” said TW. “Whoever made these footprints must have run away very quickly. They’re probably still somewhere in the Park.”
“Can you sense them?” I said, looking around again, just to make sure we were alone. “So I can track them and find out why they were spying on me and Kyle?”
TW shook his head. “Sadly, there are too many people in the Park for me to focus on any one heat signature. I couldn’t find them even if I tried.”
I looked around once more, just to see if I could find the person, but then I noticed something hanging off a nearby tree branch. Curious, I plucked the thing off the tree branch and looked it over.
It was a torn red scarf. It appeared to have gotten caught on the tree branch when its owner left. It was a pretty nicely made one, too, with the initials M.L.R. stenciled into the material itself with gold lettering.
“Is that a scarf?” said TW.
“Yeah,” I said, looking up at TW. “What does ‘M.L.R.’ mean?”
“I wish I knew,” said TW. “But I would recommend keeping that on you. It might belong to the person who was spying on you and Kyle. If it does, then it may prove a valuable clue later on.”
“Good idea,” I said as I folded up the remains of the scarf and put it in my pants pocket. “Well, I’d say it’s time to go back home. Mom said she was making pizza for lunch and I can’t wait to have it. Her homemade pizza is absolutely to die for. Come on.”
As TW flashed out of existence, I turned and ran out of the bushes and bac
k onto the main path. As I did so, however, I could not help but feel worried, because I wondered how much that spy had overheard and who they were working for.
Whoever they were and whatever reason they were spying on Kyle and I, I just hoped that they didn’t overhear anything important, like my secret identity. Otherwise, things could get ugly.
CHAPTER FIVE
I could have flown home using my powers, but given how every cop in the city was on the lookout for Trickshot, I decided that it would just be wiser to take the bus. It would be slower, maybe, but also safer.
As a result, I got home much later than I normally did, about an hour or so after lunch. By the time I walked up to my home’s driveway, I was starving, because I’d had a small breakfast earlier and hadn’t had lunch at all yet. I was looking forward to Mom’s homemade pizza, which she said would have pepperoni and everything on it.
As I walked up to the driveway, I noticed that Dad’s blue truck was gone, probably because Dad was still at work, but there was another vehicle that I didn’t recognize. It was a red convertible, pretty new based on how shiny the plates were, with sleek black stripes running across the doors. It definitely wasn’t one of our cars, but I could not tell you who owned it or why they were parked in our driveway. Even though the house looked as safe as ever, I braced myself in case the owner of that car turned out to be a threat.
“Nice car,” TW said as I walked past the convertible. “Brand new paint job, practical but stylish spoiler, and even chrome plates. Whoever owns this vehicle must be very rich.”
“I didn’t know you were a car enthusiast, TW,” I said.
“Just another thing I picked up from your grandfather,” said TW. “He was into cars himself, so he often shared his trivia and knowledge with me even when I didn’t ask for it. I can recognize a good car when I see it and I think Gregory would agree with my assessment of that vehicle.”
