Chapter 17
Students poured out of the high school, the bell marking the end of another day. The sun was relentless, turning every surface scorching to the touch, including the metal bench where Cole sat across the street, watching. Students clustered in groups, some heading home, others piling into cars or boarding school buses. His eyes scanned the crowd, focused on the gates, waiting for someone.
Jamie.
Fifteen years old, small-framed, her long braids decorated with colorful beads that shimmered in the sun. She wore a hoodie, head down, walking quietly between two friends. She looked reserved, withdrawn, trying not to draw attention. She pulled out her phone, pressed it to her ear for a moment, then slipped it back into her pocket.
Cole took the last sip of his water, crushed the bottle in one hand, and tossed it into a nearby trash can as he stood. The group was moving. Time to follow.
He trailed them at a distance, already familiar with their route from the day before. Their voices carried faintly in the afternoon air, but his eyes stayed fixed on Jamie, who hadn't spoken yet.
One friend tugged playfully on Jamie's hoodie, pulling it down. Jamie yanked it back up immediately.
"What's up with you today?" the friend asked, puzzled.
"Nothing," Jamie muttered, voice sharp.
"You skipped school yesterday morning," said the other girl on her opposite side.
"And guess who else skipped?" the first one grinned. "Carter!"
The girls squealed in unison. "Carter!"
"Don't be shy, we know something's up," one teased.
"It's not what you think!" Jamie snapped. "I went to the Central side!"
That outburst startled her friends momentarily, but they quickly recovered, squealing even louder.
"I knew it! That's where Carter's mom's restaurant is, and a little birdie told me Carter was there all day yesterday!"
One girl shook Jamie by the shoulders while the other giggled uncontrollably. Jamie groaned, clapped her hands over her ears, and quickened her pace to escape their teasing. Her friends chased after her, breaking into a run which meant Cole had to quicken his pace, too.
The sun burned against his hoodie, sweat soaking through. The task he'd been assigned was simple, and he had no room for complaints, especially not with Jamie, given who her aunt was. The risk was too high.
When the Doctor had given the order to kill David, Cole hesitated for the first time. The reasoning hadn't added up, but he did it anyway. Because the Doctor said so.
He didn't wait for the shapeshifter to become someone else. David deserved to see the man ending his life. He'd seemed like a good man, a father and the only dignity Cole could offer him was honesty.
He also thought the police deserved a gift, which was why he'd looked directly at the security camera on the day of the murder. A trace. A warning. A truth. Two days left, and all he could do now was try to help, a little.
But he'd made a mistake.
Two police officers were now standing in front of him. One male. One female. Jamie's aunt.
A black sedan had followed him. He hadn't noticed. He rarely slipped, but when he did, the cost was steep.
He kept calm, pulled back his hoodie, and showed them his scarred face.
The female officer's eyes widened slightly, just enough to make him smirk. The man, tall and broad, looked pissed.
They held up their badges.
"No need for formalities," Cole said casually. "We've met."
"I called your phone multiple times this morning," said Russel, the male officer.
"Did you?" Cole feigned surprise. He'd seen the missed calls. Ignored them. "How can I help?"
"We'd like you to come to the station for a few questions," Russel said.
"Of course. Let me let someone know I might be late." Without waiting for permission, Cole pulled out his phone and sent a text to the Doctor: Heading to the police station for questioning.
"Right then," he said, smiling at Stacy, who'd been silent this whole time.
Russel opened the car door. Cole stepped in. As they drove, Cole noted Stacy's tension, the way she avoided looking at him. She'd been tense during their last encounter too. She had a gut feeling about him. Smart woman.
The police station was bigger than expected, clearly the headquarters. As they entered, Cole admired the structure, unbothered, even intrigued.
They passed rows of busy cubicles: officers on phones, interviewing suspects, escorting detainees. Organized chaos.
"Chaotic," Cole commented aloud.
Russel led him down a quieter hallway, the noise fading behind them. Their footsteps echoed on the tile. They stopped at a room. Inside, a table, three chairs, and a camera in the corner beside a darkened mirror.
Cole sat. Stacy turned on the camera. A knock on the door brought in a young officer with a tray of bottled water. He placed one in front of each of them and exited.
"Thanks for coming," Russel began. "Like I said, we stopped by your place this morning."
"I was out," Cole replied, sipping water, his eyes locked on Russel.
He turned to Stacy, who was still avoiding eye contact. "You alright? Or not a talker?"
"I'll talk when needed," she said coolly, meeting his gaze at last.
Cole smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Got it. Not a fan."
"Do you know Mr. Finn?" Russel asked.
"Should I?" Cole raised a brow.
"He's in the hospital. Said you attacked him."
"Did he now?" Cole leaned back. "And this Mr. Finn, who is he?"
He knew, of course. But this was a game. He liked the chase.
"Seventies. Homeless. You attacked him in the tunnel. His description matches you."
"Ah ..... that old man!" Cole laughed. "Did he mention he was stalking me?"
"He did," Stacy said. "Said you were acting suspicious."
"How suspicious?" Cole asked, leaning forward. Stacy unconsciously leaned back.
"You could've reported him instead of attacking," Russel interrupted, knocking on the table to draw Cole's focus back.
"I followed him to his place. He was rambling nonsense, probably the same he fed you," Cole shrugged.
"Would you even believe me if I reported it?"
"So you admit you attacked him?"
"I defended myself. He hit me with a brick."
Cole stood and pulled off his hoodie and shirt. His collarbone was bruised and bloody. Stacy grimaced.
"Why didn't you go to the hospital?" she asked. "We didn't see you stop anywhere while following those girls."
In the dim interrogation room, Cole's face was unreadable. He dressed slowly, then sat, staring at his folded hands.
"What makes you think I was following them?" he asked without looking up.
"We followed you for ten minutes," Stacy said. Then her voice cracked. "Were you… following Jamie?"
Cole smiled.
"Are you serious right now?!" Stacy exploded, pushing back her chair and slamming her hands on the table.
A knock interrupted. The door opened. The same young officer stepped in, eyes darting nervously.
Behind him, a man in a sharp suit entered, briefcase in hand.
"Kurt Dave. Nick Cole's lawyer. This interview is over. Mr. Finn dropped the charges. You've got no warrant. This meeting is illegal."
Cole was impressed. The Doctor was fast.
Stacy's shock was visible. "How exactly did he drop the charges?"
"Signed affidavit. Settling out of court. Let's go, Mr. Cole."
"Wait—" Stacy tried, but Russel stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Let them go."
Cole and his lawyer left. At the doorway, Cole paused and turned to stare at the two officers in silence, then walked out.
Stacy stormed after them but froze.
In the lobby, the Chief of Police was deep in conversation with Lucy Quist.