I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. Grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table, I tried to calm myself down. My brain, usually the best at cooking up nonsense, could not come up with any distraction at all.
My phone buzzed somewhere near the bed. I opened it with a sense of unease and guilt. The last message I'd gotten was from Amber, probably minutes before her demise. If only I'd been quicker...
The message was from Dylan. The investigation was to be at 4 p.m.
"Good," I thought inwardly. "I still have some time."
The room was as messy as ever. But there were other important things I needed to deal with, like...
MY ENGLISH EXAM, FUCK!
I nearly jumped out of bed. It was 6 in the morning. The exam started at eight, and I had to be in school by seven thirty, I estimated roughly. I had exactly half an hour to prepare whatever I could. This test was worth 50% of my grade. My nonexistent brain...
I took out the textbook and started cramming whatever the hell I could.
Five chapters.
Five boring and excruciating chapters.
After half an hour, I was somewhat sure that Mr. Rochester had set Jane on fire, one of the Bludgers had eaten Wood, and Mr. Dickens had been in love with Mrs. Trotwood all along...
I sighed. At this point, it would be a feat if I managed to write my correct name on the exam.
At that moment, another realization dawned on me.
Amaya was going to kill me.
Amaya was my best friend and somehow particularly bad at English. She pronounced "thirteen" as "ten three" and spelled "photography" as "fotoegraffy." She needed me to pass.
The door opened, revealing Leah in shorts and a hoodie. She had that evil smirk on her face.
"So, how's the preparation going?"
This evil little...
"No need to curse me out," she said. "I wanted to tell you, but you were snoring like a dying horse in here, so I thought, let it be."
"At least I wasn't drooling over some guy I'd seen for the first time."
"I wasn't drooling."
"You nearly married him on our doorstep, over your sister-in-law's puddle of vomit, darling."
"Okay, fine, I might have eyed him a bit. But I did not have other intentions..."
"If you say so."
"Don't you need to get to your exam?"
I checked the time and freaked out. It was already 6:45.
"You'll pass. It's all a bunch of grammar stuff anyway."
"Easy for you to say."
"Okay, let's swap."
"What?"
"I'm good at English, so I'll go as you and write your paper."
"That would be wrong."
"When have I done anything right?"
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off.
"Look, you need to prepare for that investigation anyway. It's not like we do this every day. I'll go as you, and two people will be able to pass this exam."
I was still not convinced.
"Okay, what is a participle?"
"Fine, you give the exam."
Leah smiled at me. "You need to get some rest," she whispered, softly stroking my hair.
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
My breath grew heavier as I reached the place. Our department, D.C.O.—short for the Division of Covert Operations—was nothing but an old school building that appeared very unstable. It was well guarded against outsiders. I steeled myself, not heading toward the main entrance but the backside of the ruin. Moss and leaves had been allowed to grow wildly over the passage to hide the door from the eyes of curious wanderers.
An old-looking door stood right at the edge, almost the same shade as the naked bricks of the building. The doorknob was rusted as well, and the iron seemed to come off in layers from its sides.
However, I had more pressing matters at hand. Hence, I moved mechanically like a robot. The usual fingerprint and retinal tests at the entrance. The green light followed a few seconds later, and I was good to go. As I stepped inside the D.C.O.—Division of Covert Operations—main office, I was immediately struck by the sense of tension and focus that filled the air. The building itself was a nondescript high-security structure in a city's downtown area, tucked away near a government district. I passed through the main hallway to my department—comparatively smaller than the rest but quite well equipped.
I was greeted by a freckly, blonde, curly-haired, and currently red-eyed boy. He glanced in my direction as I stepped in.
"Lucy," he said, smiling.
"How long have you been here?"
Andrew did not belong to our department as he had willingly chosen to be a fighter after six years of training in computer knowledge. However, he was often called upon in conditions of distress due to his expertise.
"I was called in at 3 in the night," he yawned. "You are called in the study for your pending investigation."
I nodded at him silently before turning back. There were around 10 minutes left on the clock. My heart hammered inside my chest.
What if they kicked me out? Would Leah and Mom still accept me?
Bump!
"I'm so sorry. I was actually..."
It was Alena Denvers—the mother of both Ross and Amber Denvers. She had served as a major spy in her youth, and her work had given her great popularity even amongst the agents.
The usually radiant Alena now looked much more solemn and angry than her usual self. Looking closely, Lucy clearly identified the tear tracks on her cheeks. Sometime, not long ago, she had cried for the death of her daughter, and within a day, she was back at work almost as usual.
Was this woman human?
"I was looking for you."
"Did she suspect me too?" I wondered.
"It wasn't your fault," she said, looking at me kindly. "And I'm completely sure of it. I don't blame you at all."
A wave of relief washed over me.
"Thank you, Agent Denvers, for telling me that," I said gratefully.
"I had to," she said. "And I'm sure you'll clear the investigation too."
Oh shoot, the investigation.
I hurried along the pathway to the conference room. It had actually been that old school's staff room, with the furniture exactly as it was when the school was made. Some security features had been enhanced, but it looked more or less like a staff room only.
I stood outside the door, heart pounding, unsure whether to step inside or not. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.
It was Dylan. With his dark hair gleaming with sweat and his skin slightly paler than usual, he looked exhausted.
"You'll be fine," he said, smiling. "I'm sure."
"I know."
I stepped inside. It was a relatively smaller meeting than I had expected: Detective Sandra Sánchez, Sergeant Wilkins, our chief leader Augustus Kane, Doctor Sarah, and a man I did not recognize. My spirits lifted slightly.
"Take a seat, Miss Vance."
I sat down slowly—eyes still scanning each of them.
"You do know what you've been called for?" the sergeant inquired, watching my calm face.
"Yes, sir."
The detective turned to me with a stark expression.
"How would you describe your relationship with Amber Denvers?"
"She was a friend," I said, "and a senior."
Should I have said acquaintance?
"Hmm, can you tell us where she had been on August 2nd?"
"I have no idea," I said with a pause. "But wouldn't the department know? She had been out on a mission."
The chief looked at me, his eyebrows raised. "She had been out for a task in Nairobi (Nairobi is a city in Kenya). But her return flight was from Cairo? What do you think might be the reason?"
How would I know?
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea."
The detective turned to me. "And I've been informed that you recently went on a family trip to Cairo as well?"
"Yes, ma'am. A month ago."
"Okay," she said, and I could see her closely watching my expressions. "Did you have any idea regarding what she was up to in Egypt?"
"No, ma'am."
"I would like you to read the last text message Miss Denvers sent you."
I took out my phone. I could see Sarah giving me an encouraging smile.
"First message: 'Lucy, I'm at the airport. Can you come pick me up?'"
Second message: "I think someone is following me. It's too dark in here, but I can feel someone's presence."
Third message: "Lucy, something is really wrong. Somebody is looking at me from behind the pillar. Can you hurry?"
"So, Agent Denvers knew something was wrong, didn't she?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And yet she called you at midnight instead of calling her leader, mom, or sister. Why do you think that is?"
"I have no idea."
"We also received information that you reached the crime scene in barely 10 minutes but waited until the others came to approach the body. Why is that?"
"I did look around for some time, Detective Sánchez. But I was afraid of going near the body alone."
"Aren't you an agent? Why would you be scared of a body?"
"I'm a hacker on the team, Detective. It's not my job to go around finding dead bodies. The only ones I've seen are on cameras. It is quite normal to be scared of a dead body for a seventeen-year-old like me."
"According to Dr. Sarah, Miss Denvers had been murdered 20–25 minutes before the police found her. Did you happen to spot anything suspicious?"
"No, ma'am."
The elders discussed amongst themselves in low whispers.
"You're free to go, Miss Vance," said the detective, a cold look on her face. "But be forewarned: I will be keeping an eye on your future movements."
I did not care about her cold tone anymore or the fact that everyone in the room was still watching me.
"I got off!" was all I could think at the moment.
Outside the door, Leah and Dylan were waiting for me with anticipating faces.
"I got cleared," I announced cheerfully.
"That's awesome," said Dylan. "Look, there's somewhere else I need to be right now, but I'm very, very relieved."
"Pizza's on me," Leah said, grabbing my shoulder as we walked out of that passage.