Chapter 5 - The Midnight Intruder
The digital clock on the bedside table glowed 2:14 AM. Leo lay wide awake under his heavy quilt, staring at the ceiling fan as it cast lazy, rhythmic shadows across his bedroom walls. Downstairs, the muffled hum of Marcus talking in hushed, angry tones on his phone drifted through the floorboards.
Leo slipped out of bed, his bare feet making no sound against the hardwood floor. He crept down the hallway, stopping just shy of the top of the stairs. Marcus was standing in the kitchen, illuminated by the harsh light of the open refrigerator.
"I don't care what the federal guidelines say!" Marcus hissed into his cell phone. "Someone threw a brick through my window tonight! My nephew is in danger! If you don't release her file, I'm going to the federal field office myself!"
A pause stretched on the line. Then Marcus groaned, dropping his head against the refrigerator door. "Fine. Meet me behind the old warehouse at dawn. Bring the unredacted documents."
Leo’s heart hammered against his ribs. Marcus was meeting someone in secret—someone who had the real files on his mother's case. Without pausing to think, Leo hurried back to his room, pulled on his jeans and a dark hoodie, and grabbed his skateboard from the closet.
He crept out through his bedroom window, easing the screen open and dropping silently onto the soft mulch of the backyard flowerbed. The autumn air was biting, but adrenaline kept him warm. He pushed off on his skateboard, tailing his uncle's Honda Civic as it backed out of the driveway and sped toward the industrial district.
The streets were dark and empty, the streetlights flickering like dying stars. Leo kept a safe distance, pumping his legs hard to keep pace with the car's tail lights. When the Honda finally turned down a desolate alley behind the abandoned textile mill, Leo ditched his skateboard behind a dumpster and crept forward on foot.
Peering around the rusted corrugated metal wall of the warehouse, Leo saw Marcus standing under a flickering security light. But Marcus wasn't alone. A tall man in an expensive charcoal suit stood facing him, holding a thick manila folder.
Leo inched closer, straining to hear their whispers over the wind.
"You shouldn't have come here, Marcus," the man in the suit said, turning around.
May you like
Leo gasped, freezing in place. The man wasn't an anonymous tipster. It was District Attorney Arthur Sterling himself.
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