The Convict

Miko walked down the hall of cages, almost all of them empty. Which case did Officer Dennys said it was? Oh, the sixth cage on the right. Miko found it soon. 

She peered inside the bars. A boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, was sitting on a small stool. 

Miko pressed her face against the cage, hoping it wasn’t a child who was in there. But it was. It was a child.

“You’re the convict? You’re the one who kidnapped Evan Fife?” Miko asked in disbelief. 

The boy looked up. His eyes were sunken, blackened. Miko gulped. What had happened to him?

“No,” he whispered, raspy. Then, like a bullet, he shot out and grabbed Miko’s hand, but she pulled it out quickly.

“What are you doing?” Miko tried to keep her voice level.

“Who told you?” he asked fiercely.

“Officer Dennys.”

The boy’s eyebrows mashed together in anger. “Dennys! Of all the people? Dennys’ a mole, Myelin. A big mole. He never wants to help out. He’s just doing it for the glory.”

Miko didn’t bother to ask how he’d know her name. “But police officers are supposed to help—“

“He doesn’t.” The boy sat back down. “Want to ask for help in your investigation? Talk to Paula Meyers. Known as Trip. She’s an officer too. She’s against Dennys. Possibly somethin’ to do with racism towards her family. I have no idea.”

“If you suggested me a contact, I’d like evidence, too.” Miko was firm.

“My name’s Jacob Barber. And all the evidence towards me? I’d never hurt Evan. I was just a witness. And his best friend.”

Miko felt sorry for the boy. “You shouldn’t be in this cell, you should be with your parents.”

“I hope,” he murmured. 

As Miko left, he called to her. 

“The evidence you have? It’s in the house. And it’s on the wrist of every kid in this town.” 

And Jacob pulled the sleeve of his hoodie down, and the twisted red double helix birthmark, the same one Miko had on her wrist, exposed itself in the light.

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Signed,

Melody Vega