Chapter 2 - Shadows Behind the Yellow Romper
The digital screen glowed fiercely against Officer Miller’s dark uniform, casting an eerie blue light over Clara’s pale face. The view counter on the smartphone was spinning upward with terrifying speed, thousands of comments flooding the live stream every second. Clara stared at the blurry footage of a toddler in a yellow romper toddling down the mahogany-paneled corridors of City Hall, clutching a heavy, gold-plated municipal seal like a favorite stuffed animal.
“This is a deep fake,” Clara stammered, stepping between the police officer and her little brother. She scooped Leo up into her arms, ignoring the stray cookie crumbs that tumbled from his yellow romper onto the concrete. “Leo was with me all morning. We were buying groceries. Look at the receipt! The time stamp proves he was right here in this district.”
Miller slipped the phone back into his tactical belt, the red and blue emergency strobes painting his sharp jawline with violent strokes. He didn’t reach for his handcuffs, but his posture remained rigid, defensive, and deeply suspicious.
“Receipts can be printed, Ms. Vance,” Miller said, his voice dropping an octave. “Especially when your landlord happens to be the chairman of the city zoning board. A board that just approved the demolition of your entire block.”
Clara’s breath hitched. She tightened her grip around Leo, who buried his tear-streaked face into her shoulder while the orange and white tabby kitten meowed softly at their feet. “What does our apartment building have to do with a missing gold seal? Leo is a baby. He doesn't know anything about zoning laws, demolition permits, or city politics.”
“Does he know about the safe behind the painting in your uncle’s study?” Miller asked, stepping closer. “Because according to the anonymous tip that sent me here, the seal wasn’t the only thing taken from City Hall. A set of blueprints detailing the underground municipal tunnels was stolen alongside it. Tunnels that run directly beneath your basement floor.”
A cold sweat broke out across Clara’s neck. She knew nothing about tunnels beneath their creaky old house, but she knew her uncle had been acting paranoid for weeks, burning old papers in the backyard barrel every night after midnight.
“My uncle is an old carpenter,” Clara said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound brave. “He builds kitchen cabinets, not secret underground networks.”
Miller reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, metallic object, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. It was a tiny, yellow plastic wheel—the exact kind missing from the toy truck Leo had been pushing around the living room rug that very morning.
“Found this wedged in the lock of the mayor’s private office,” Miller said quietly. “Right next to a smudge of oatmeal cookie dough.”
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Clara looked down at Leo. The toddler raised his head, staring at the plastic wheel with wide, unblinking eyes, before slowly reaching out and whispering three words that made the police officer’s hand tremble.
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