A SECRET AGENT
A GANG MEMBER
AN ILLEGAL RACER
CAN YOU BE ALL?
Earth is a secret agent whose only job is to catch the organizer of the monthly Midnight Race
Mix is the winner of every Midnight Race...until now
"Nothing matters but the facts. Without them, the science of criminal investigation is nothing more than a guessing game."
- Blake Edwards
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The atmosphere changed with the snap of the fingers. It was like someone took a bucket of cold water and splashed it on Mix's face.
And Earth's face changed too. It was no longer tender and playful. His sharp features took a lead role, the shadow of seriousness and concern accompanying them.
He must have found something, Mix thought, or he didn't find anything. Both options could explain Earth's expression the same.
Earth sat beside Mix and opened the laptop. "I went through everything you have on the case, everything additional that I could find, plus I asked Off to search for the police report and sent it to me. And I don't know...I'm more confused than I was before?"
Mix shifted, the temperature in the room dropped, icy shivers ran up his spine. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe it was just a fear of losing something he never actually had, creeping upon him.
Since Earth had promised him that they will find out what had truly happened to his mother, and catch Jack, Mix got so fixed on that idea that all other possibilities ceased to exist. Earth promised; Earth wouldn't break a promise. Not the one he made to him.
That was what Mix wholeheartedly believed in. That they would put the end to this nightmare together. But now, with the first obstacle, his shell of belief was starting to crack.
And Earth could feel it.
"Don't do that," Earth's voice was demanding, yet soft.
"What?" Mix snapped out of his overthinking bunker.
"You are thinking about it too much, and I haven't even explained anything yet."
"I don't."
"You do. Look," Earth patted Mix's hair, "it's normal for the investigation to get a little bit tacky sometimes. Just because I have more questions than answers after doing some research doesn't mean we aren't going to solve it in the end. After all, haven't I promised you that we will find out what happened?"
"You did," Mix slightly nodded.
"I did," Earth nodded too, "so, now have some cookies," Earth showed the plate in Mix's hands, "and listen to what I have found."
"First, Off was surprisingly fast with getting ahold of the police report, and after reading it, I already have numerous questions. Let's start with the length of the report— a person was shot, and the report is barely two pages? That's already a red flag."
Mix furrowed his eyebrows, "how long are usually reports?"
"When it comes to murder? Definitely way longer. One of the first things that were done was ballistics and gunshot residue testing, which in itself is the correct procedure. But what strikes me odd is that they only did gunshot residue testing on you and no one else."
