Sanemi's mother stood shivering by the open door, watching the police officers who had just delivered the shocking news. She pulled her thoughts together and rushed back inside, heading straight for her son's room. She knocked lightly, then harder, but received no answer. A cold wave of panic hit her. Was he even here?
She pushed the door open, relief washing over her when she saw him lying motionless on the bed. She hurried to his side and gently touched his arm.
"Mom?" Sanemi woke with a start, eyes wide and confused, dragged instantly from a deep, stress-induced sleep.
"Wake up, my son. Quickly," she whispered, her voice tight with fear. "There are police officers at the door asking for you."
The blood drained from Sanemi's face. He felt a wave of nausea, like he might pass out right there. His mind screamed: They found out. They found the truth. This is it.
"Why police? What did I do?" Sanemi asked, his voice low and barely audible, heavy with unspoken dread.
"You just come out first, and you will know the rest," she urged, her hands trembling.
He got out of bed, his body moving stiffly, and walked into the living room. The sight of the two officers sitting on his couch, their dark uniforms dominating the familiar space, made him instantly start trembling with fear. He sat stiffly, his mother hovering anxiously behind him, her gaze fixed on the officers.
"Sanemi, we want to ask you some questions concerning the kidnapping of Rina, the daughter of the Chief of Police," the lead officer began, his tone serious and detached.
Sanemi's mother gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. The mention of Rina's name hitting her almost as hard as the officers' presence.
"We can't start questioning you here," the officer continued, rising. "We have to take you to the station for a proper investigation."
The word "investigation" hit Sanemi's mother like a physical blow. She realized her son was about to be arrested. She stepped forward, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Please, don't take my son! I am sure he didn't do anything wrong! He's a good boy!" she pleaded, the words choking in her throat.
"Don't worry, ma'am," the officer said, though his expression remained hard. "It's just questions. Nothing will happen to him if he is truly innocent."
They took him. Sanemi didn't resist. He stood up and simply looked back at his mother, his gaze holding an apology for the chaos he was dragging her into, before he was escorted out the door.
He was placed in the back of the police car, the world blurring as they sped toward the station. His mind, however, was agonizingly clear. He thought about the last few hours. I just came back fifteen minutes before the police arrived. He had sneaked in through his window, adrenaline still humming from the encounter with Vito. I should have never returned at all. But immediately, he corrected himself: No. That would have put Mom in danger. I have to be responsible for my own actions.
The guilt over Rina was heavy, but the guilt over the lie he was forcing his mother to live under was almost unbearable.
Meanwhile, at Chief McKay's house, a silent, terrible vigil was underway. It was clear no one had slept since the news broke. A police car sat outside, a grim, uniformed guard. Inside, the family sat in the living room, their faces pale, blurred with shock and sadness.
The television was on, and a reporter announced the details of Rina's kidnapping, the broadcast feeding their pain back to them. Chief McKay, his uniform discarded for a wrinkled shirt, paced while talking quietly to one of his trusted detectives.
"I know I have enemies," McKay's voice was strained, raw. "A lot of them. And maybe one of them is trying to do this to silence me. But why use that boy? It doesn't make sense that he would know my daughter, or why he was used in the crime."
His mind was flooded with agonizing questions. Is this random revenge? Is this a warning? Is Rina safe? He couldn't think like a father; he had to think like a cop.
Just then, his personal phone rang. It was the station. He answered, listening intently for a moment.
"They have the boy now," he said to the detective, his eyes hardening with renewed purpose. "I'll be there in no time." He was leaving his pain as a father behind to interrogate the prime suspect, the last person to see his daughter alive.
***
Early that morning, the smell of frying bacon and coffee pulled Vito out of his troubled sleep. His mother, Mrs. Rossi, called from the kitchen. "Vito! Breakfast is ready! I made extra for your friend."
Vito walked into the kitchen, his movements stiff and uneasy. His mother was beaming, already setting a place for Sanemi.
"Mom," Vito started, trying to sound casual, "Sanemi already left."
Mrs. Rossi's smile instantly evaporated. She set down the plate with a clatter. "What do you mean he left? At this early hour? Vito, what is going on? Now you need to tell me before you put both of us in danger. I've seen there is some kind of secret you are trying to keep."
Vito knew he couldn't tell her about the secrets he knows. He pulled out a chair and sat down, ready to tell the only version of the truth he could manage—one that protected his friend.
"It's about his past, Mom," Vito began, lowering his voice. "His dad died, and he carries a lot of guilt. He's under huge stress. He hasn't slept in days. All that stuff last night? That was a severe stress-related collapse."
Vito looked his mother straight in the eye, the lie feeling heavy but necessary. "When he finally woke up, he just wanted to leave. He felt ashamed. He said he felt alright, and I couldn't stop him."
Mrs. Rossi's stern expression softened into sorrow. "Oh, poor boy," she murmured, her kind heart instantly melting. "All that pressure on such a young man." Vito's sweet lie had paid off; his mother's anger was replaced by pity.
As they sat down to eat, the television mounted above the counter flickered on for the morning news. A serious-faced anchor began reporting on Rina McKay's disappearance. Suddenly, they showed a picture of the girl and mentioned the school she attended.
"The victim was a student at Central High," the reporter said.
Mrs. Rossi gasped in surprise. "Isn't that where you and Sanemi go?"
Vito had to act fast, forcing a look of shock. "Yeah, Mom. Wow, that's terrible."
"Do you know her, Vito?"
"Yeah, I know of her. She's the Chief's daughter, right? Everyone knows her." His mind was racing, screaming about the scorpion tattoo and the license plate Sanemi had seen. He had the answers, but he couldn't speak them. I can't tell the police that my friend has all the clues, How can i even start, He felt sick with helpless frustration.
Meanwhile, Sanemi was already trapped. He sat alone in the police station's interrogation room. It was small, painted a dull, clinical grey, with only a table and two hard metal chairs. The air was sterile and cold. A single, harsh fluorescent light hung directly over the table, casting sharp shadows and ensuring there was no place to hide. Sanemi felt exposed, weak, and terrified.
The door clicked open, and Chief Mr. McKay entered the room. He didn't wear his uniform; he wore a worn shirt and trousers, his eyes bloodshot and raw with pain. He didn't look like a police chief; he looked like a devastated father. He sat down heavily across from Sanemi and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Sanemi," McKay began, his voice surprisingly quiet, but holding the immense weight of his grief. "Let's forget the police procedure for a moment. My daughter, Rina, has been taken. You were the last person she tried to meet. I need you to be honest with me."
McKay leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "How long have you two been together? How did you meet?"
Sanemi swallowed, his throat dry. "We… we've only known each other a couple of weeks, sir. We met at the school library. We were just friends, talking, you know. Sometimes we studied together."
"And how often did you talk? Did she ever talk about her fears? About anyone who might want to hurt her, or me?" McKay's voice was strained, begging for a clue.
"We mostly talked about school. And her brother, Kenzo," Sanemi answered honestly, making sure to stick only to the simple facts of their relationship. "She was happy, sir. She never said anything about threats. Nothing at all."
McKay's eyes narrowed, shifting from grief to suspicion. "The person who took her sent a text message to her phone using your name and asked her to come outside. Why would they do that? Were you setting her up?"
Sanemi flinched, the accusation stinging. "No, sir! I was nowhere near there. That wasn't me. Someone else must have used that number or something. The last time I saw her was yesterday afternoon."
"Tell me about yesterday," McKay pushed, his voice cracking slightly. "Did she talk about meeting anyone that night? Did she seem nervous or excited about something?"
"She seemed happy," Sanemi said, recalling the lunch. "She was with her mom and Kenzo. She just told me she was having fun, and we agreed to see each other later, maybe. That's it, sir. I swear I didn't know she was in any danger."
McKay watched him, silent, the disbelief heavy in the small room. "Where is Rina, Sanemi? Why did you use her as a target? Do you have a message for me? Did someone send you to do this?"
Sanemi locked eyes with the heartbroken father, maintaining his calm facade. "Sir, I don't know where Rina is. I didn't use her as a target. I truly care about her. If I knew anything that could help, I would tell you immediately."
McKay rubbed his tired face, the interrogation yielding nothing but frustration. He felt the boy was hiding something, but the answers were too clean, too simple. The door was still closed, and the real interrogation was just beginning.