For a couple of days, everything was fine.
Zack and I had some fun running errands for Mr. Vinton, driving around Vernon, and looking at his cell phone in search of suspicious footage.
Then wednesday arrived, and everything went to crap.
It all started even before I arrived at the shop.
At lunch hour that day, after noticing that Lola wasn't speaking much, my friends and I inquired what was wrong with her. To our shock, she revealed that her father had found out about her boyfriend and had gone to his work to threaten him.
So, we apologize for not noticing it.
"It's alright," she said, smiling softly. "I'm just bummed out he's not answering my calls."
I opened my mouth to ask if she was worried Armando wanted to break up with her, but before I could do it, my cell phone rang. I got up from the table, a bit upset that someone was calling me at such an unfortunate time. It was Zack. A bit less snappy, I excused myself, pressed the button to accept the call, and answered.
"Hi!" I greeted him cheerfully, but he didn't answer back.
I frowned and looked at the cell phone screen, thinking at first that my cell phone had glitched, but then I realized I could hear his breathing, and I frowned, confused.
"Hello?" I asked.
After a while, Zack began mumbling, sounding really confused and scared.
"Zack, what's wrong?" I asked.
"You are not going to believe this," he said. "I cannot believe it."
"What's up?" I asked.
"I saw something on the footage feed," he told me. "I don't know if Dad has seen yet, but it's...weird."
"Is it a suspect?" I asked him, thinking for a moment it could be a suspicious individual. But he denied it.
"It has nothing to do with the visitors," he told me. "It's about the car."
"The Thunderbird? What is it?" I asked, confused but interested regardless.
"Let me send you the clip," he said, and I agreed.
After a few seconds, he sent me the clip he was referring to and asked me not to show it to anyone, mainly because they would have to call the police, and the police would probably see it as evidence.
"Jesus, what happened to the car?" I asked, beginning to worry.
"Nothing, that's the thing. Dad hasn't called me yet to ask about the Thunderbird, so I guess it must be back," he said, making me frown.
"What do you mean that the car must be back?" I asked.
"Just watch the footage. Then call me afterward," Zack said.
"So, is it okay to go to your house today?" I asked, "Or..."
Zack went silent again, and I knew then that I wouldn't be able to see him.
"I think it's better if you don't come today," he said, "if dad has seen the footage or sees it later, he's not going to be in the best mood, and probably it might get worse if we have to call the police."
I agreed, but I was still bummed out about it.
"It's okay, I understand. I wouldn't want to worry Dad by being there either," I said. "It's a bummer, though."
"I know, but I think it's for the best. We can chat later when I'm in my room."
"That'd be nice. Maybe after homework?" I asked, trying to sound more cheerful.
"Sure," he finally told me and reminded me to look at the clip before he said his goodbyes and hung up.
When I returned to the table, Lucy asked me what the matter was.
"Nothing important," I said, brushing it off. "What's important is Lola right now."
So, the rest of lunchtime we spent trying to help our friend with her troubles, although the oddness of Zacks's statements still bothered me. I had no idea what he was implying.
After returning to class, I tried to pay attention to the material but couldn't think of anything except the clip Zack had sent me. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so in the middle of physical education class, I asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom, pretending to be sick because of the exertion.
The teacher allowed me to go, and I ran to the locker room. There, I walked to my locker and took out my cell phone. Then, I sat on the bench and began playing the video.
The video was short, about three minutes long. But those three minutes were so powerfully shocking.
The footage was of the garage, around one in the morning. The camera looked at the old cars from above. The neighborhood dogs barked nearby, and cars could be heard in the distance. The Thunderbird stood in the darkness, only its roof lit by the moonlight.
At first, everything looked and sounded normal, but suddenly something strange happened. Without any indication of someone entering the garage, either through the high windows or doors, I heard one of the toolboxes with wheels move around like someone was pushing it. Then, a broomstick fell to the ground.
Then, out of the blue, I managed to see a strange, dark silhouette in the shadows of the garage. It slowly moved close to the car. I heard the door of the Thunderbird open. As the camera was on the ceiling, I couldn't see much, but suddenly, the car started, and I could see the tenuous light coming from the car radio. Old music began to play softly.
A few minutes later, I saw the silhouette again moving to the front door of the garage.
Only after the garage doors opened and the light from the outside flooded in was I able to see the car better, but it still had this grainy look to it, not allowing me to see much detail. The only thing I saw was a tall silhouette of a man, still in the shadows, getting in the car. Then, the car's door finally closed, and the vehicle began to drive away.
"How could someone just take the car?" I asked myself. "Mr. Vinton had just changed the locks, hadn't he?"
The video ended as the car thief closed the garage doors, submerging everything again in darkness.
I sat there, thinking.
"Who the hell was this guy?"
From what I remembered, none of the men in the footage we saw had been that tall. This guy had to be someone else, maybe someone from before. But how did he open the new padlocks if he was from before the security cameras arrived?
Even with some questions in my mind, the rest of the day went normally.
As we watched TV on the old floral couch at my grandmother's house, I texted Zack, asking him how everything was going. But he never answered.
So I went home a bit worried.
At home, I sat in my bedroom to do my homework. As I worked, the cell phone suddenly chirped. I looked down to see a new message from Zack. I wondered why he had taken so long to answer me, but I was still happy he had done it.
I pressed the screen to look at the message, and the only two things he had responded to me with were two emojis, one of a cop and the other of a siren.
"So you called the cops?" I texted him back.
"Yes, Dad called them," he answered. Then, a new message began forming, and suddenly, the text "Stakeout tonight" came up.
I frowned and asked him what the hell that meant.
"A stakeout?" I said to myself.
A small audio file appeared on the screen, and I pressed to listen.
"I called Dad and told him about the footage after I called you. When I arrived home, the cops were already there. Dad showed them the footage, and they decided that the best option was to place a van outside the shop in case the burglar wanted to take the car for a ride again," he said.
Then, another audio message showed up.
"And you won't believe this, but there was almost another incident yesterday, they told us, but the Thunderbird escaped when it began being chased by a police helicopter."
"What about the other car?" I texted him back. "The one that almost got hit?"
"Don't know," he texted me, "the cops didn't say much."
I then thought about something bothering me since we'd learned about the other incidents before and after Fruitland. I pressed the button to face chat Zack, and the message popped up for a few seconds, waiting for the boy to accept. After a bit, he did, and his face showed up on my screen.
Zack was sitting on the couch of his home, wearing an oversized dyed t-shirt.
"What's up?" he asked, concerned.
"It's just this is becoming so confusing, so I had to talk to you face-to-face," I told him.
"Everything about this whole thing is confusing," he laughed. "But, tell me. Shoot."
"I've been thinking. These "races" seem to occur at the weirdest hours and on the weirdest days. There's no singular schedule. Don't you think that's strange?"
"Yeah, I do."
"You do?" I asked him.
"Yeah. When we showed the footage to the cops, they looked kinda annoyed, like they knew something else was going on," he told me.
"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "So, you think it might be something else than illegal racing?"
"Perhaps. I don't really know," Zack said. "I guess we'll find out tonight."
"Hopefully they'll catch him," I said. "Your dad is right. This is getting out of control."
He agreed.
I then asked him when the police would arrive to check the shop. He told me they would be coming after the shop closed. His father had asked him to order takeout to serve the police officers as a thank-you meal.
Zack then apologized and asked if we could continue our conversation later, as he had to do his homework.
"Sure, no problem," I said, shrugging. "I have to keep working on my own anyway."
Zack told me he was also thinking about checking the operation before bed. He wondered if I wanted to see it as well.
"I can call you and show you what's going on. Is that okay, or is that too
creepy?" he asked me.
I considered the offer and thought there would be a chance we would see the moment the police trapped the guy.
"I think that'll be cool," I said, smiling softly. "Okay, let's do it."
After saying our goodbyes, I continued my essay and went to get something to drink from the kitchen.
I had no idea how that night would end.
Hours passed, and Dad came back from work. As we sat for dinner, I asked him how work had been, knowing that the police had stopped. Dad shrugged and grimaced, displeased, telling us how uncomfortable it was.
"I just hope they catch this jackass soon. I'm getting tired of being looked at as a suspect," he said, huffing angrily as he played with his chicken and rice.
"Why do they even keep doing that?" Mom asked, a little exasperated. "They know you were here yesterday. They can easily ask Tammy or me."
"Unless a neighbor can prove it, I'm still a suspect," he said. "They are not going to believe you or the kid."
"Maybe Mr. Vinton needs to get himself one of those cameras that can see in the dark," I told my parents, trying to add to the conversation. "Might it be easier to spot the guy like that?"
Mom smiled and nodded, but Dad turned to me and stared at me suspiciously while eating a piece of bread.
"How do you know about the footage?" He asked as he finished chewing. "Did that boy show it to you?"
I looked down and shrugged, afraid to respond. Dad was a mostly calm man, but he clearly looked uncomfortable regarding my friendship with Zack.
"Well, yeah. Zack sent me the clip," I said.
"He seems like a nice boy," Mom told Dad, probably trying to help me.
But he sighed, unconvinced, and pointed at me with the piece of bread.
"You've been spending too much time with that boy."
"So?" I asked him, upset. "I like being around him."
"I know," he told me, chewing on a piece of bread with gravy. "But he shouldn't be showing you private footage."
"He's just trying to keep me up to date with the things at the shop," I told Dad. "Why should he hide things from me?"
"Because it's his father's shop," Dad argued. "If it were my shop, I wouldn't like you showing people things, especially of a delicate nature."
I sighed and leaned back on the chair. It was their private business, but Zack just wanted someone to talk to about the incident, and I was the closest person to the shop besides his dad. He wasn't trying to be rude.
"I guess so," I sighed.
Dad smirked at me caringly, placed the bread on the table, and then patted me on the back. I smiled at my parents and agreed not to let Zack show me anything that was his father's private business. Still, I knew I was about to do the opposite.
I thought everything would be okay as long as I kept my mouth shut. Zack would just show me the police van.
Nothing would probably happen.
Then night fell.
As I went to bed, I placed my things inside my backpack and put on my pajamas. I then got into bed and left my cell phone charging on the bedside table with the light on, waiting for Zack to call me.
Finally, around ten, I finally received the face call, prompting me to sit on my bed.
"Hi," I said. "You are late," I then jokingly complained.
"Sorry," he apologized with his typical cute smirk. I could see it even in the dark of the night. He was outside his house, and I noticed a tree behind him.
"Where are you now?" I asked him.
"I'm outside my neighbor's house. I'm spying on the police van," he whispered.
"Did you get the cops some food?" I asked him. "You told me your dad had ordered some takeout."
"Yep. Chinese, about an hour ago. They probably ate it by now," Zack said.
"So, how are things?" I asked, wondering how long he had been spying on them. "Anything suspicious?"
"No. Everything is pretty quiet," he whispered. "But in the footage, everything was quiet before the car was taken, so…"
"Why are you whispering?" I asked, curious.
"Sorry," he said. "I thought I saw a cop."
I chuckled, and he asked me why. I wanted to tell him that I thought he sounded cute whispering, but I just shook my head and told him it was nothing, just a dumb thought that had crossed my head.
"Where are your parents?" Zack then asked.
"They are probably in bed by now," I told him. "My dad told us the police still see him as a suspect."
Zack nodded and told me he knew and had no idea why.
"Your dad is not the thief. Why would he try to screw with his own job?" He asked.
He was right. Why would my father, who just got the job of his dreams, want to screw it up? For all I knew, he only went from home to work and vice versa. Very few times, he stepped outside the house to do something else.
"I don't know what the hell these cops are even looking for," I told him, honestly.
This thing had started pretty interestingly, but the moment the Thunderbird came into it, the initial idea just began to crumble. Why would someone take an old car that was being fixed to race it against others? Didn't this type of underground circuit have its own vehicles?
"Well, hopefully, we'll find out soon," Zack said, to which I then asked him where his father was, as Zack was clearly outside the house.
"Dad's inside. Probably asleep," Zack told me. "Last time I saw him, he was watching a titty film on his old TV."
I blushed and looked at him, horrified when he said that, making him chuckle.
"A what?" I asked, surprised he would admit to that.
"Sorry, T.M.I., I guess," he said, realizing what he had done. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm too used to talking with my guy friends."
"You guess?" I said and started laughing.
He smirked, embarrassed.
For about twenty minutes, nothing much happened.
As we waited, we commented on the cop's gross habits regarding smoking and littering. Most of the Chinese food boxes had been left on the edge of the sidewalk, and they were spreading cigarette butts all over the road.
Then something happened.
Zack lowered the phone from his face and stood silently next to the tree of his neighbor's house. I only managed to hear the rustle of the leaves and his breathing as he pressed the cell phone against his chest.
"What's wrong?" I whispered.
"Something's happening. They cut the lights off inside the van," he whispered back.
"What do you mean?"
"I think someone might be inside the shop," he said.
"Really?" I whispered again.
"You know what?" He said. "I'm going to sneak through the back and see if I can hear something.
"Zack, No! Don't be stupid!" I whispered, but I wanted to shout.
"It's okay," he said, beginning to move away from his house and into Violet Alley.
I freaked out and sat at the edge of my bed, looking at the screen, my eyes bulging, whispering to the boy to stop. But he wouldn't listen to me and walked through the dark back alley, getting closer and closer to the back of the garage. I was worried that anyone who was inside that shop could hear him and hurt him.
"I don't see anything," Zack whispered and moved his cell phone to capture the inside of the garage through the window of the back door. The place was dark, and it looked like no one was there, but the last time, it also looked like that.
"Zack, stop!" Concerned and angry, I whispered to him, "Don't do this, dude!"
"Wait, I can hear music," he then whispered. "You think it's the radio?"
"Zack, get the hell out of there!" I growled, covering my mouth.
"Dude, just chill!" He said, his voice sounding almost like laughter. "It's fine, I'm just looking."
But I didn't find any of this funny at all. It was terrifying. Not just because the boy I liked could be in potential danger, but also because I couldn't call my parents, as I had promised them not to get into things like this.
"Oh shit, the doors are opening," he then gasped, shocked. All I could hear was the soft shriek of metal moving.
"Zack, please, listen to me. Go home now," I begged him, wanting to cry.
"Okay, okay, I'm going back," he finally whispered, "I need to see what happens."
Suddenly, I saw the image of the asphalt ground and heard the harsh sound of the wind as Zack ran back to his house. He hid behind the tree again, pointing the camera at the street in complete silence. I knew he was trying to show me what was happening while he caught his breath.
The street was dark, only illuminated by the few streetlights above. Nothing new seemed to be happening until the shape of the Thunderbird slowly emerged from around the corner.
"Oh, shit! There's a cop outside!" I suddenly heard Zack say, and he pointed his camera to the other side of the street, where a man had been hiding for who knows how long.
It was an average-looking man dressed mostly in casual wear. I asked Zack how he knew it was a cop, and he told me he had seen him before. As the car moved down the street towards the Avenue, the police officer skipped toward the middle of the street, placing himself in front of the vehicle.
He then yelled at the vehicle to stop.
"Police! Get out of the car!" I heard the man shout.
One of the car's headlights turned on. I guess the other one had not been fully connected yet, as I only saw half of the cop.
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed when I noticed the police officer had a gun in his hands. For a second, I feared this could end up in a shootout like in the movies.
At that moment, the car driver hit the gas and bolted toward the cop.
The cop tried shooting at the driver, but before he could do it, that massive hunk of machine just clashed against the man's body, dragging him underneath it like a rag doll.
"Oh my god!" I heard Zack scream, and I just managed to cover my mouth again to muffle my own.
I lowered the volume of the phone so my parents wouldn't hear the commotion, and Zack moved the camera away from the mangled body, which now lay on the street, and into his face. He asked me if I had seen what happened, and I nodded.
"You son of a bitch!" I then heard someone shout in the distance.
Zack moved the phone back into the street. Someone was kneeling next to the body, holding a flashlight over it. It was another cop, probably checking to see if the officer was still alive. I then heard someone shouting for reinforcements, probably a cop talking on the radio.
The person on the road began waving the van, shouting at them to go after the guy who had stolen the car.
Suddenly, all the van's lights turned on, like the vehicle was coming out of a slumber. The van first moved slowly through the road, avoiding the body and the cop, but afterward, they drove away in a hurry, chasing after the car.
"Go, go!" I heard someone shout as Zack put the phone back in his face.
"What the hell?!" Zack asked, looking like he was going to start crying.
"Zack, go call your dad!" Knowing he was in shock, I whispered, "Go tell him someone's hurt!"
"Okay, okay..." he whispered, his voice shaking.
That was the last time I saw him that night. After agreeing and running toward his house, the call cut off.
I sat at the edge of my bed, biting my nails, thinking what the hell to do.
Knowing I could not say anything to my parents, I decided to go to bed.
But before that, I went to the bathroom to splash my face with some water. I looked at my face in the mirror and realized how discombobulated I looked. Of course, what else would you look like if you saw someone get hurt?
I stepped back and sat on the toilet for ten minutes, trying to calm down, just hoping things were not as bad as they looked.