Codename: Shadow

Chapter 5

The door in front of me swung open and a very tired looking Jake waved me in. He clutched his usual morning coffee extra dependently that day.

[Like you’ve never done that, Pablo. You came in to watch me this morning and you looked extra grim. And do not say it’s because you have to spend time in a room with me. Then again, you don’t really say much of anything…]

“Mornin’ Nara.” He said as he downed a couple aspirin.

I let out a short laugh and put the files from Ms. Mueller down on the kitchen counter before popping open the fridge. “You look dead.” I tell him.

Jake forces a smirk at me and closes the blinds in the window so we can work. “Thanks, you’re looking pretty good yourself, Querida.”

My eyes narrow at him. After working with the boy for all this time, he has only called me “Querida” maybe seven times. I have no clue what it means, but every time he calls me it, it’s said in a sarcastic and semi insulting tone. I’m started to think he’s called me a not so nice name.

But what do I know? I don’t speak Spanish. Seven languages I’m fluent in, but Spanish is not one of them.

[Perhaps this is why Pablo doesn’t speak to me. Maybe he only speaks Spanish? Note to self: Get Pablo to speak tonight. Don’t protest—Yes, I can see you protest in your eyes, hon. Ah yes, the death glare. I know I just called you “hon”, suck it up. You’ll live.]

I pulled out an apple and hoisted myself up onto the counter. “Any news on Louisiana?” I asked.

Louisiana is the final member of my crew. She went missing a couple months ago, though. The only trace left of her was the only photograph the three of us ever took together. In fact, it was the only proof that Jake, Louisiana, and I knew each other.

Everyone we know in the business is keeping an eye out for her, but there’s been no luck. She’s gone. Jake definitely took the hit much worse than I did. Louisiana may have been part of my crew, but I was never particularly fond of the girl. She was way too good at her job as the distraction in my own opinion.

“None,” Jake told me sadly. She was his oldest friend, even before he knew me. “She’s gone, Nar. No one knows where the heck the girl could have run off to or why. Her room’s just taunting me now. Every time I pass it I want to know more and more what happened to her.”

He motioned to one of the closed doors across from the kitchen. She’d been staying with him for a little over a month before she disappeared. We should have seen it coming; we should have known that something was off.

I mean, the girl lived the best out of all of us. High class, nice cars, large group of friends to bail her out, was definitely her style. Louisiana was the type of girl who wore those two foot cylinders of fabric people call dresses and those chunky monstrosities’ people call shoes.

Picture Snooki and you’ve successfully imagined Louisiana. Down to the ridiculously fluffy dead animals she called boots.

“We’ll find her.” I promised Jake for the hundred and sixth time since she first disappeared. (Trust me, I counted.)

Jake smiled weakly at me and changed the subject, “So, what paintings are we after?”

I shrugged. “I only recognize one of them. It’s a painting by Arthur Sullivan. The other one’s by someone called Virginia Housent. The weird thing about the Housent, I spent like five hours Googling it last night… It’s not on any record.”

He cocked his head at a curious angle and picked up the file marked Housent. “Let me see the picture, maybe I can identify it.”

“That’s the thing, Jake.” I told him. “There is no picture. Mrs. Mueller didn’t give us one. All she did was give us a detailed location of it. It’s in an exhibit at the James Howel Museum of Art. Third corridor from the entrance, second painting in on the right.”

A short laugh came from beside me as I bit into the apple once again. “Okay… So, what country is home to this Virginia Housent?”

Throwing my hands up in exasperation, I rolled my eyes and asked, “Where is anything we find we ever need in life?”

“Laos?”

“Japan.” I corrected him.