Thunderbird Road.

Chapter 11

That very night, while I was placing my notebook back in my school bag, I received a call from Zack.

I walked to my side table and sat on my bed as I picked up the phone.

Zack seemed nervous but also excited. We greeted each other, and he told me that right then, a helicopter was going around his neighborhood. He turned the phone for me so I could see outside his bedroom window. Most of the view was of the alley outside and the sportswear shop across it. I could see the bright lights of a helicopter moving around the alley, like looking around for someone.

"Do you think this is the check-up they were talking about?" He asked.

"Probably," I said, shrugging. "I mean, they said they would use helicopters from now on."

Zack turned the phone to him and stared at me, a bit concerned.

"You don't sound so happy," he said. "What's wrong?"

I told him about my dad grounding me, not allowing me to go to the shop or his house anymore. Zack groaned, annoyed, and asked why my father had done that.

"Maybe because we keep doing stuff Dad thinks we shouldn't, like listening to private conversations?" I told him, smiling bitterly.

"Besides that, we are not doing anything bad," Zack told me. "I don't get why he would be angry."

"He probably exaggerates because you are a boy," I told him. "I don't think Dad trusts you very much. It's a Dad thing, I guess."

"So, I can't go to your house either?" Zack asked, "Or is it more about you coming to my house and his place of work."

"You can come here, I guess. Although I would rather have you here when my parents are not. But I'm not allowed to go near yours except with a formal invitation from your Dad, I think," I said and laughed bitterly.

"Is that so?" He asked.

I nodded, saddened.

"Well, we'll have to figure something out," Zack said, then pouted his lips, looking like he was starting to concoct something. "I like talking to you, especially now we have a serial killer on the loose."

He raised his eyebrows, and I smiled, excited, even though I was still afraid of the idea.

"Do you really think it's some type of serial killer?" I asked him.

"That's what it sounds like, from what we heard, no? Anyway, it is way more plausible than an illegal racing ring," he said, and I agreed.

The use of a single car, the erratic schedule, and the randomness of its victims. It looked like the work of a man who just wandered the city looking for a thrill.

"Why do you think he chose this car in particular?" Confused about the man's motives, I asked, "I mean, it's so weird."

Zack said he agreed; it was bizarre, but there had to be a connection that we just couldn't see. He said that the crashes started the moment the Thunderbird arrived at the shop, so if the individual had visited the shop or at least walked by, there had to be something the Thunderbird had triggered inside him.

"I mean, who knows about the modus operandi of serial killers? There's always a reason for why they do things, and sometimes they tend to be very personal," said Zack. "I mean, that's what I've gathered from shows and documentaries I've seen."

"I guess," I said and then sighed. "I just wish we knew what they look like. Maybe we could do something."

"Well, I remember the detectives said they were tall and male. They also suspected your dad, so he might also be white."