We were homeless, hunted, and carrying physical evidence that was a death sentence. We huddled in the back of the town's ancient, rarely-used cinema, the musty smell of old velvet seats our new reality.
"We need to split up the originals," Leo said, his voice tight with fear. "Digital is too risky. They can hack. They can delete. Paper is harder to destroy if it's in different places."
It was a desperate plan. We divided Miguel Reyes's journal from the forged permits. I would take the journal. Leo would take the permits. We would hide them separately and never reveal the location to each other. That way, if one of us was caught, the other might still have a chance.
It felt like a scene from a spy movie, but the terror was real. We were two teenagers, dividing the pieces of a twenty-five-year-old murder mystery in a dusty movie theater, while a ghost watched over us.