After Dark

Chapter 6: Report for Duty

The television in almost every home in Falridge buzzes softly. Hunter, in his grandmother's house in the forest, sits on his grandmother's couch, the throw rug pushed aside as he laces on his running shoes, the small TV in front of him flickering with the image of the newspaper's editor.

"Mr Stone would like to enforce a curfew, and he asks that you all please be inside your homes by seven pm tonight. He advises that no one in or just outside of the boundaries of Falridge should leave home until it's light outside, and he thanks you for your compliance." The editor of the newspaper, the only reporter left in the office while the single lone writer he has gathers information, shuffles his papers and turns to the next in his page of notes.

"As to the matter of Chris Drake, Felicity Greaves and Hillary Limon, an investigation is being conducted to find their killer. You may see an increase in police, brought in from the city. We advise you to let them keep you safe, and Mr Stone trusts the people of our proud town not to take upon themselves the job of finding this dangerous person." He pauses, clears his throat. "Remember, this is for your own safety. Now, let us have a moment of silence for those we have lost, and may we pray for those who are still here, and that they shall remain that way for as long as God sees fit."

A pair of hands lean on his desk, and Adam looks up at Hunter, surprised. "I need your help." Adam blinks.

"With what?" he asks, after a moment. Their physics class is mostly empty, the only people in the room Hunter, Adam, and Jacquie Lots, and she quite far from them, shy and sequestered in the corner.

"Research," he says, "on the murders."

Adam raises an eyebrow and leans forwards in his chair, lowering his voice. "Don't you watch the news? And why are you asking me?" he says, though he knows why; Adam's father being a policeman is most likely the cause for Hunter asking him, and not Sady, for help.

Hunter smiles, his voice sarcastic when he says, "I heard you're interested in the topic." Adam flushes, feeling faintly embarrassed, considering Hunter heard him discussing his mother, who was killed and left in an alleyway not long ago. "Also, I don't care about the news." Adam doubts that Hunter cares about much other than finding his mother's murderer, at the moment.

He taps his fingers on the desk. "I'll help you, but there's one thing."

"And what's that?" Hunter asks.

Adam smiles, the smallest of grins. "I can't hide this from Sady."

Hunter's face closes down. "No." He doesn't want her involved in this. Adam is one thing, Sady another.

Adam shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "No Sady, no help."

Hunter considers for a long moment before taking his hands back from the desk. "Fine," he says, quietly, sounding a little defeated. Adam watches him walk away, back to his seat, and thinks that, maybe, Hunter does care about one thing other than finding his mother's killer.

At the front of the classroom Rhyes pretends to look very interested in his jacket, which should not be hard for him considering the concentration he offers it every day when draping it over his arm. He makes nonchalance look difficult and unnatural; his forehead is creased, his eyes narrowed as he thinks. Because he heard almost every word of the conversation as soon as 'murder' was mentioned. Rhyes, though he dresses like a pensioner and has the maturity of a four year old, has always wanted to be a detective, and that naive notion is still inside of him, the gears in his mind clicking and whirring with thoughts. Because, whatever it is that Hunter and Adam are doing, he wants in.

Rhyes was always the type of child in a school who was left out; ignored, placed to the side. He is the type of person to hold grudges, and Hillary Limon is one of the people who, in his eyes, made him this way. Hillary Limon did not do anything in particular to Rhyes. She lived her life, and did not make any changes to it to avoid the brooding, strange boy in the corner. Mostly, Simon Ryhes's isolation was due to his own lack for want or need of socialisation. But he saw it differently. So, when he heard his neighbours through their open bedroom window, directly opposite his own, discussing the woman's murder, it was no surprise when he was not particularly remorseful. He may even have felt a little happier, that day; walked with a spring in his step.