Knights And Pawns

Chapter 13: The Secret Project

The next morning, I wake up refreshed and alert. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and change into my black t-shirt, dark purple flannel, khaki pants, and black Air-Max Jordans.

As the teeth of my white comb slid through my hair, my mother called me downstairs for breakfast.

"Coming!" I sang.

Rushing down the steps, I saw Mom hovering over the stove, stirring cream and oatmeal in a white ceramic bowl before adding sugar.

Her blond hair is tied into a tiny bun, her eyes are sore, and her soft gray bathroom robe is recently soaked in water.

"Hey Mom," I say. "Did you sleep well?"

She shakes her head no, hands me the bowl, then headed over to the coffee pot to brew herself a cup.

"I cannot sleep a wink last night," she grumble.

"Trouble at the press?" I guessed.

She nods merely, takes out the dark coffee pot, and pours the brown liquid into a red mug.

It's the present Dad had given her for their wedding anniversary; to this day, I never understood why she wouldn't throw it away.

Nevertheless, I took the bowl over to the dining table and ate the meal with a slightly tarnished spoon.

Meanwhile, Mom hovered around her dining table carrying her dreary mug.

Lines of her pale mouth stretched as she opened her mouth to let out a yawn.

"Are you going to school?" she ask.

I shake my head.

"It's Saturday," I remind her.

"Oh," she respond in embarrassment.

"My writer is trying to find a juicy story to put on the newspaper article, and so far, he has found nothing except a duck giving birth to two conjoined babies."

I slowly stopped eating my oatmeal after that.

"What?" I gasped. "Ducks can do that?"

Mom nods again.

"It's the only story he can find," she explained.

"but of course, my boss doesn't believe it."

She lets out a sigh and shakes her head.

"I can't believe I am saying this, but can you help me?"

I pushed the bowl of oatmeal away and grinned.

"With your story?" I guess.

"Sure, I don't mind."

Mom gives me an delightful smile, before asking me difficult questions.

"What's your latest case?"

"How do you catch killers?"

I shut my eyes tightly and reopen them.

"Well," I began. "First, you need to keep everything I say a secret."

Mom gives me a solemn swear and allowed me to continue.

"Luke and I are investigating the suicide of Mace Sansters." I say.

"We know that he spends most of his time at a club named Smiles Inc., divorced his wife Natasha, and was a bad seed at school, doing drugs and alcohol."

"But he killed himself," Mom said in confusion.

"Why are you investigating a suicide?"

"Mr. O, Mace's colleague, hired us to find more information about his death." I say.

"And plus, the cause of Mace's death is drinking anti-freeze."

In response, Mom shuddered at the thought of the gruesome death.

"Poor man," she murmured.

"You and Luke still think this is a murder?"

"Yeah," I sighed, pushing my chair under the table.

"anyway, I am going to Luke's house. So in the afternoon, do you want me to make lunch or something?"

That's when Mom smiled hopefully.

"We can cook ravioli together," she says.

"I'll stop by the grocery market to pick it up."

"Cool," I smiled, kissing her cheek.

"We'll start cooking at eleven."

With an embarrassing hug, Mom handed me my backpack as I left the house and close the door behind me.

As I put on my bag, it took me a few minutes to notice the sun hovering above the clouds; Saturday morning is always perfect: perfect wind, perfect atmosphere, and of course, perfect boyfriend, standing on the porch.

"Hey Cole," Ben greeted.

He wore a long sleeved, dark green t-shirt, khaki pants, and dark shoes.

His hair remained the color of dirt, while his eyes are like the color of emeralds.

As soon as he reaches up to me, we kissed passionately then held hands.

"So, Sherlock." I begin. "What are we going to do in this fine day?"

Ben thinks about it for a moment, before putting his arm respectively on my shoulder.

"Let's find out what project Jordan Hollis is working on."

I couldn't agree more, I thought.

Together, we went over to Ben's house, which surprisingly seems empty.

The insides of the house looked a little better than I first walked in: the cracked walls are covered in chocolate brown, wooden floors are polished, and the living room looked like an actual living room, if you count the dust bunnies gathering under the green, beaten couch.

"Where are Bill and Jill?" I ask, cranning my neck at the tiny kitchen.

"Aren't they here?"

Ben shook his head.

"Thankfully," he announced. "the judge made it mandatory on them to go to an alcohol-free seminar."

He held my hands when he spoke.

"And here is the best part," added Ben with a smile.

"They won't be back for five hours."

"Whoa," I say. "Does this have something to do with your custody of Seth?"

Weeks after we closed the Captured case, the judge became aware of the brothers' abuse, fired Ms. Caroline's position as their social worker, and grant Ben full custody of Seth.

"Yes," he answers.

"however, social services is trying to find another social worker for us, so until then, I am living under Satan and Satan's wife under their roof."

That must have suck.

Anyway, Ben led me up to his bedroom.

His room is the embrassing size of a closet; it had gray walls, a small, plaid blue bed, brown desk, drawer, closet, and opaque windows.

Up against the wall is a huge bookshelf, filled with books, classical music, and jazz. On his desk are photos of his parents before the accident.

We share a brief kissing moment then continued our work.

"According to the bartender," I began.

"He says that Jordan and his colleagues were volunteering Mace for an unknown project."

My boyfriend's fingers twirled around a sharp pointed pencil as his scrunched face tries to recall things.

"Do you know what the project is?" ask Ben.

I shook my head no.

"Whatever it is," I sigh. "it's something bad."