C12 Chapter 12

Tuesday, May 13, 1681

Despite being accused of a crime, Enrique and Jeff were still attending classes. They had decided to continue with their normal lives until the trial was over. That statement was paradoxical, as they were accompanied almost everywhere by two police officers. That morning, as people looked on and whispered, shadowed by two officers and looking quite exhausted, they sat down at their desks at the front of the classroom.

Lindsey and Carol were both standing behind their desks, next to the classroom window that faced the interior of the campus. The police officers stood to one side, near the classroom door.

"It’s not fair," said Carol.

"Unfortunately it’s necessary," replied Lindsey Whitelock, taking a seat.

Carol could not bear to see her friends like this. She had known Jeff for many years and it upset her to see how much he had changed between how she remembered him and how he looked now.

She wanted to get back the Jeff that juggled in front of her when she was crying because she had failed one of the easiest high school exams; the Jeff who, in elementary school, had given her several complicated folded paper animals, just to cheer her up after a fight with her best friend; who once gave her a coffee with salt instead of sugar, and who when she dropped the cup in surprise, did a silly spin to make his family think it had been him who had broken it.

She could not bear to see someone so important to her consumed by sadness. This time it was Carol that needed to be strong. Perhaps that was why she got over the shock of her friend dying so quickly. She felt like it was now her duty to do something to help her friends that were in trouble. Nevertheless, and to her disappointment, the class had split into those who supported the boys — there were less on this side — and those who were sure that both of them had something to do with Emma Kantor’s death. What nobody knew was that Jeff’s passive attitude was actually because of a simple control spell cast by Sean Thiel, who had decided that Jeff would be the scapegoat. An enchanted brooch attached to the police officer responsible for Jeff was all it took to keep the spell active.

The professor, a woman with long hair and a long coat, had been waiting for the police to arrive. She called them over to one side and they spoke in low voices at her desk, which was at the front of the classroom on a raised platform a foot higher than the rest of the classroom.

"I know that they don’t deserve this, but if they really are innocent, I’m sure they’ll easily get out of this mess," said Lindsey.

"You really don’t believe them, do you?"

Lindsey Whitelock, feeling very uncomfortable, turned around and met her friend’s eyes with a serious expression. A few seconds later, she looked down, crossed her arms and spoke.

"I don’t like the fact that Enrique didn’t say anything during the interrogations . . . anybody that has read the newspaper reports can see that he is the problem." Her family usually discussed the news over breakfast, and they had reached this conclusion over the weekend. "If he had told them everything —" she was interrupted.

"I am sure he has a good reason for not talking . . ." Carol sat down slowly, her face thoughtful. "Enrique is not stupid . . . I am sure he realizes that a lot of people want a culprit."

"You say it as though you know he is innocent."

"And you doubt him?" asked Carol, looking into her eyes. Lindsey thought that it was better to give up hope and prepare for the worst. Seeing that desire to believe in the two of them despite everything going on made her feel weak. Carol had preferred to cling to what she had already discarded.

"It would be best for this to be decided in court," she said, glancing to the side.

"That’s not true."

"So what then?" asked Lindsey. Just as she was about to talk to Carol again, the professor stopped talking with the police officers and turned toward the students to start the class. The police officers went out the door and positioned themselves on either side of it, where they stayed for the entire class, waiting for Jeff and Enrique.

The stress from the interrogations, the investigation and the looks of mistrust from the people around them, among other things, had left Enrique and Jeff completely overwhelmed. Enrique was consumed by frustration and Jeff, who seemed to have been overtaken by an interminable lethargy, did not know how to explain things to his family given he did not remember anything except for the fact that he had been walking around the city that night. He felt defeated and disheartened, he could not prove that he had been knocked out or attacked, as there were no signs of either on his body. Enrique, for his part, had a feeling of impotence building up inside because he could not say anything about the circumstances surrounding Emma’s death. A week later it still felt like a dream, and he found it very painful that, perhaps because of the sadness of his loss, he did not entirely believe what had happened.

When the class was over, the first students to leave were Enrique and Jeff. The police took them by the shoulders, and led them down the hallway. Everyone watched them go in silence, broken only by a few whispers. Once they had gone, the classroom came back to life and voices got louder, everyone sharing their opinions once again.

"I can’t deal with this," said Carol, grabbing her bag. She stood up and rushed out of the classroom.

Lindsey quickly got up to check on her; she realized that her friend was going through a tough time and what she needed more than logical arguments right now was support.

"Carol."

The wooden hallway, which had classrooms along it, was almost empty. The length of the hallway was lit up by the sunlight filtering through the windows at either end. When she heard her name, Carol stopped and turned around. She saw her friend’s worried face, watching her from where she stood a few yards from the classroom door.

They decided not to go after their two friends. They thought that trying to talk to them in that state would not be any help.

"I guess going to see them at home won’t help either," said Carol. They were both standing outside on the fourth and uppermost floor of the campus building where they had just had class. There were no classrooms on that floor; instead there were several tables with umbrellas to protect them from the sun and rain, as well as some different shaped flowerpots along the sides. In the middle there was a staircase that went down to the floor below. The place was almost completely deserted. They were seated directly across from one another at one of the tables.

"You’re right . . . look, it’s not that I think they actually killed her, but I just prefer to trust the investigation. I’m not used to basing my opinion on trust alone . . . and aside from that, I really don’t like how Enrique hasn’t said anything.

Carol knew that Lindsey Whitelock was not the only person who had been influenced by Enrique’s suspicious behavior.

"I know. I don’t like it either, but I am sure they didn’t do it. What would their motive have been? Have they found any conclusive evidence? Have the Blue Hawks shared their entire investigation with the public or the police?"

Lindsey’s face reflected her mild surprise.

"You know a lot about it," she said.

Carol continued, still looking at her friend.

"That’s not important. We have to do everything we can to help them. We can look for information in the newspaper, or . . . I don’t know . . . I can try to find out something on my own."

"Are you talking about looking for evidence that will help them?"

Carol nodded. Lindsey looked confused and tilted her head to one side before speaking.

"It’s a good idea, but how would you go about it? Do you think we have the means to do it?"

Carol Flightrod frowned, she leaned forward with a determined expression.

"Listen. Remember how I told you that my father was a detective?"

"Yes." "Can he help us?" she asked enthusiastically.

"He’s not a detective. He’s the police general.

"What?! Really?!" Carol nodded without saying anything. "So?! Why don’t you have bodyguards following you around?"

"My father never wanted that."

"Why?

"For security. The higher the wall, the bigger the treasure, right? At least that’s what my father used to like to say. I only had a bodyguard once, but that was years ago."