Where Is Araminta Green? (ONC 2024)

Chapter 18: The Final Episode

Sporting a cast from knuckles to elbow on his right arm and equipped with a prescription for heavy-duty painkillers, Jordan aimlessly wandered into his attic podcast studio. His wrist had not improved during the night, instead, it had swelled up to double its usual size, prompting an urgent visit to the ER the next morning. A small consolation for the pain was that his dad seemed to have forgotten about enacting punishment for Jordan's lapse into petty crime while he accompanied his oldest son through examinations and X-rays.

At least no one at the hospital had questioned Jordan's story of falling down a flight of stairs to sustain the injury. Although the nurses had probably assumed he was drunk during the accident rather than in the process of committing a crime.

While holding his injured arm with his left hand to make sure it didn't hit anything, Jordan slumped down on the worn recliner that had been relegated from the living room to this hidden corner of the house by his mom. He propped up his casted limb on the armrest, as he'd been told that putting it in a high position would be good for blood circulation.

From the recliner, Jordan could look longingly toward his laptop and podcasting equipment, which were waiting for him on the desk. Tomorrow was the day when he was supposed to hand in his finalized project and he had planned to deliver a final episode by then. But he lacked both energy and inspiration to delve into such tasks. Considering that his dominant arm was broken, Jordan wasn't sure he could perform basic tasks such as controlling the computer mouse or typing on the keyboard. Besides, even if he physically would have been able to record more content, he didn't know what he would talk about as he was out of leads as well as hope. Whatever clues had been in Araminta's home were out of his reach for good.

Jordan could only hope Professor Carrigan would still give him a passing grade for the episodes he had already published. Perhaps he should milk his broken arm for sympathy, showcasing how far he was willing to go for a scope. Although crime was perhaps a step too far.

Jordan's pity party was interrupted by scratching on the door. Kiki wanted in and wasn't about to take no for an answer. Jordan groaned, not keen on rising from the chair as any movement exacerbated the throbbing pain in his arm, which the pain medicine had dulled but not erased.

Luckily, an angel in a pink tracksuit saved Jordan. "How are you doing?" Darcy opened the door to let Kiki roam freely. The cat immediately made herself cozy on the futon that served as Jordan's bed in his family home since his old room had been repurposed to be Darcy's dwelling after he moved away for college.

"Not great," Jordan mumbled, lifting his casted arm in place of further comments.

"This came for you in the mail," Darcy informed him, skipping into the room to throw an envelope in Jordan's lap. "Mom told me to give it to you."

"Thank you," Jordan replied, hoping his obvious grumpiness would make his perky sister go away.

Darcy didn't get the hint, or she ignored it. Knowing his sister, it was probably the latter. Instead, she threw herself next to Kiki, burying her face in the cat's silky soft fur. Kiki only tolerated such close encounters from the youngest member of the family. Jordan would have been kicked in the face, claws out.

Noticing that the envelope had the stamp of the local police jurisdiction, Jordan's hope for clues was once again ignited. Maybe, just maybe, the report he'd requested would contain some new information. But with one hand out of commission, entering the envelope proved to be a difficult task. Jordan pinned the envelope between his legs while he used his right hand to tear the flap open. It worked until it didn't and the envelope broke free from his grip, flying free in the air.

Darcy caught the envelope mid-air. "Should I open it for you?" she asked. Letting Kiki enjoy some personal space, Darcy leaned back against the wall beside the futon. It was clear she was intending to force socialization upon her brother. Fiddling with her intricate space buns, covered in butterfly hair clips, it seemed Darcy had something on her mind, but her tween brain couldn't quite formulate the words.