CARLOS
Beacon Academy sure is a school for the rich kids. I hear the Mayor's youngest daughter even schools here. The killer has quite some nerve, shooting so close to this place and even killing one of their rich kids.
Lieutenant Farmer and I sat together in the principal's office as the aging woman with eyes a shocking shade of silver rolled out the names of the children who had a connection to Barbara Jones in an impressive British accent.
"Aside from Keith Lionel, Barbara was also close with Sofia Corona, Malia Scott, Linda Whitehorse and Langdon Wyatt. Would you like to speak with them?".
"Yes, that would be helpful"Lieutenant Farmer replied.
Few minutes later, her secretary knocked to announce that Keith Lionel was at the door. The principal permitted him to enter.
"He was at the scene, right by her side when it happened,"she warned us as the boy entered"it's taken quite a toll on him".
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I can't believe we got nothing, after talking to Barbara Jones' friends and teachers. Worse still, Annabelle and Logan who were sent to the building under construction called to inform us that the shootout had happened on the workers' day off, so they knew nothing.
We totally have zero leads here. Lieutenant Farmer is so pissed. I can tell because he suddenly started walking super fast, leaving me far behind.
What a day.
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ISABEL
I ascended the stairs to Percy's office, gripping the large envelope in my hand tightly. I still don't know what to make of this situation.
Percy suddenly sent for me and gave me only five minutes to cover the distance between Glamour spa and the Mafia headquarters. That was three days ago. I arrived, alarmed, only to see this unfamiliar child. He had been at the scene of a shootout, but that didn't matter to me. His friend had died in said shootout, but that didn't mean anything to me, either. What mattered was that Percy had called me out like that just to check up on a perfectly unhurt child whom he believes might have been traumatized.
Just who is this child, I had wondered,why does Percy care so much about him?
But now, three days later,as I stand before the door to Percy's office, I feel so petty for thinking like that. I feel sorry for the child.
"Come in"Percy said immediately I knocked.
I entered, shutting the door carefully behind me.
"Well?"he asked before I could even take a step forward.
"I drove Keith from school to my psychologist friend,"I replied "it's bad, Percy. He was diagnosed with severe PTSD".
"How severe?"he asked in a monotone.
"He could end up scarred for life. He keeps having nightmares. And his mind is... breaking apart,bit by bit. He's developed seizures".
"I see"neither his tone nor his expression changed.
"Percy, that child is in danger. You need to get a therapist and...".
He looked at me, and I promptly shut my mouth. I know that look. He's warning me not to dare give him advice.
"Is that all?"he asked.
"Y-yes. That is all".
He turned back to his documents, and, taking my cue, I left.
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THEODORE
I will not give up. I am Lieutenant Theodore Farmer of the homicide department, and I will not fail. I've solved impossible cases before, and I can do it again.
I stood before my team, the board by my side.
"This is all I have so far,"I said"first of all, the culprit is either a psychopath or a black".
"Why a black?"Detective Roberts asked immediately.
"No offense intended, Roberts".
He happens to be black, and he has gotten some unfair treatment since he was a kid thanks to that, which includes unfair accusations.
"The reason is,"I hastened to add"Barbara Jones is the perfect image of a white girl. Pale skinned, blonde,doll like".
"So, you're suggesting it could be a hate crime".
"Exactly. Secondly, the culprit's shooting skills are no joke. All those bullets were carefully aimed at the wall, showcases, and specific parts of the victim's body. The intention was to hide the fact that Barbara Jones was the only target".
"We're dealing with a smartass"Sergeant Catchings whistled.
"Black, smart, and an excellent shooter. I see"Sergeant Blake murmured.
"We're not sure it's a black yet"Detective Roberts replied.
"He's right"I said"there's still the psychopath option".
"Whoever it is, they must be found,"Detective Quinn said"and quickly too".
We all agreed.
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SOFIA
Barbie is dead. I can't believe it. I had stayed behind in school that day, because I didn't want to see Keith and Barbie walking to the gates together.
Then, just as I was approaching the gates,a crowd of spooked kids came surging back into the school. Some were crying, others screaming.
It was only later that I got the full gist. There had been a shootout. Barbie was dead. At the moment, I felt nothing. I guess I just didn't know how to feel. I was numb. My chaffeur drove me home, and I stepped into the living room only to see a live broadcast of the murder on TV.
That was when I broke down. I cried and cried, right there on the floor of the living room, until Julia took me in her arms, murmuring something about grief being the celebration of love, because only those who have truly loved can feel grief. But what I feel about Barbie's death isn't grief.
Not at all. I never got to make my peace with what happened- her snagging Keith without warning. Yes, I love Apollo. But I also love Keith, I know that now. I've loved him even before I left Trent street.
What I feel isn't grief. It's a gut wrenching guilt. I hated Barbie for loving Keith, for stealing his heart. In my diary, where I kept a list of my friends, I had drawn a line across her name. Deleted her number and photos from my phone. Trashed every picture of her I had, including the framed ones.
Now she's dead. And I feel like I killed her.
"No,"I blurted out as I lay on my back on my large bed"I didn't do the shooting".
I've been telling myself that, over and over. But the tightness had remained in my chest for days. It won't go away. My eyes feel hot and full yet my tears had bluntly refused to flow. For days.
At last, with a loud sigh, I gave in to impulse. I rang Apollo. I've never done so before- I've been too nervous- but now I did. And waited, restless, until he picked.
"Hello,"I spoke quickly"Apollo, it's...".
"Sofia?"he cut in"is that you?".
"Yeah. Hi"I replied, pleased that he remembered.
"Wow. To think you would call after... it's been months, hasn't it?".
"I suppose"I mumbled.
Hearing his calm voice again brought a surge of pleasure that defied even my guilt. But I had not called to chat.
"Did you hear about the shootout near Beacon Academy?".
"Everyone did"he replied.
"The girl who was killed... was a friend of mine".
"Is that so. I'm sorry".
"Yeah. It's been hurting like hell since. She and I used to be friends before... something came between us. And now I feel terrible. Like I killed her".
There was a silence on his end.
"Apollo? Are you still there?".
"Yeah. Why are you telling me all of this?"
"I don't really know,"I admitted"I guess I just needed to talk to someone. All my friends are too wrapped up in their own grief to pay me any real attention,"I paused, hesitated,then asked what I really wanted to ask"can we meet, Apollo? Say, on Saturday? Have a drink or two?".
"A drink or two? Sofia, you're underage".
"I'm grieving. I know a place. Are you in?".