Aidan
The officer drove them to the old man's house in a black-and-white patrol car, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the tense silence between them. Aidan sat rigidly in the passenger seat, his knee bouncing anxiously. He kept replaying the image in his head—those grey eyes staring right at him, the way the bony figure had been crouching on one of the branches between the dense foliage of the tree.
As they pulled up to the house, Aidan's stomach twisted with unease. The property was eerily quiet, the iron gate standing tall and uninviting. The officer stepped out first and rang the doorbell, the chime echoing hollowly inside the mansionsque house.
After few minutes of waiting the gate opened with a slow creak. Mr. Albu peeked through through the small slit of the gate, wearing a faded brown cardigan. He squinted, his cloudy eyes scanning them through the narrow slit.
"What is it?" he snapped, his voice gravelly with age and impatience.
The officer cleared his throat, keeping his expression neutral. "Can you please open the gate, Mr. Albu? We need to check your property."
The old man's face twisted into an irritated scowl. His thin lips pressed into a hard line, his knobby fingers tightening on the metal gate. For a moment, Aidan thought he might refuse, but then he sighed dramatically and unlatched the gate.
As it swung open with a rusty groan, Mr. Albu's demeanor changed instantly. His narrowed eyes softened, and his scowl smoothed into something resembling a polite—albeit forced—smile.
"Hello, officer," he greeted, his voice suddenly dripping with saccharine sweetness. "What's this about?"
The officer didn't return the pleasantries. "This young man believes you have someone tied up in your backyard."
Mr. Albu let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "What?" he repeated, amusement flickering in his expression. "You think I—an old man who can barely carry groceries—have someone tied to a tree? That's the craziest thing I've heard all week."
Aidan clenched his jaw, his fists tightening.
"Do you mind if we check?" the officer asked, his tone firm but not confrontational.
"Yeah, sure," the old man said with an easy shrug. He stepped aside, motioning them forward. "Go ahead, be my guest."
For a split second, Aidan swore he caught the man glaring at him from the corner of his eye. A cold, fleeting look of pure malice. But when he turned to face Mr. Albu directly, the old man's gaze had already shifted away, his face unreadable.
Aidan swallowed hard. He couldn't let himself get paranoid—not when someone's life might be at stake.
"This way, officer," Aidan said, quickly leading them toward the backyard. His pulse pounded as they reached the towering cottonwood tree, its thick trunk stretching toward the sky, its gnarled branches swaying slightly in the morning breeze. He scanned the area, his breath catching in his throat.
Nothing.
No person. No ropes. No sign of struggle.
The backyard was as still as a graveyard. The only thing staring back at him was the empty space where the figure had been.
Aidan felt his stomach drop.
"No. No, this isn't right."
"I hope you're satisfied now," Mr. Albu drawled from the backdoor, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't even trying to hide his annoyance anymore.
Aidan's face burned with frustration. It didn't make sense. He had seen it. Hadn't he?
"Do you mind if I look around your house a bit?" the officer asked, his voice still level. Aidan exhaled, grateful that at least the cop wasn't brushing him off completely.
For the first time, Mr. Albu hesitated. His jaw tightened. The muscles in his face twitched as he ground his teeth together. Then, just as quickly, he smoothed his features into another carefully controlled smile.
"Of course, officer. No problem," he said, voice thick with sarcasm. "You guys really know how to make an old man's day."
The officer began moving through the house, checking rooms with casual efficiency. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floors, doors creaking open and shut as he made his rounds. Within moments, Aidan found himself alone with Mr. Albu in the dimly lit hallway.
Aidan turned to face the old man, his heart hammering against his ribs. He swallowed back the unease creeping up his spine, forcing himself to stand his ground.
"Where did you hide him?" Aidan demanded, his voice low but firm.
Mr. Albu didn't answer. He simply stared, his face twisting into something dark, something menacing. His greyish-blue eyes gleamed with quiet fury, his thin lips pulling into a scowl.
Aidan had assumed he was just a frail old man—wrinkled, hunched, slow-moving. But now, standing this close, he realized he had been wrong. Mr. Albu was fit for his age, broad-shouldered and steady on his feet. His posture was strong, almost predatory. And the way he glared at Aidan, the sheer hatred radiating from his pores like molten lava, sent an uncomfortable chill crawling up Aidan's spine.
He was dangerous.
The old man tilted his head slightly, his knuckles cracking as he flexed his fingers. He looked like he wanted to say something—perhaps a warning, perhaps a threat. His mouth parted, but before he could speak, the officer returned from his sweep.
"All clear, Mr. Albu," the officer announced, shutting the last door behind him. "Sorry for disturbing you. We should leave now. You have a great day."
Aidan's stomach sank.
"But officer—" Aidan stepped forward, his frustration spilling into his voice. "You barely looked! What if—"
"We looked, Mr..."
"Ferrara," Aidan said quickly, giving his last name.
The officer sighed, clearly losing patience. "There's no sign of a kidnapping. We checked the house. We checked the yard. There's nothing here. We shouldn't be bothering an old man on a fine morning. It's not right, Mr. Ferrari—"
"Ferrara," Aidan corrected again, his jaw tightening.
The officer barely acknowledged the correction. "Yeah. So, let's go before he registers a complaint against you for invading his space."
Aidan clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him. He could feel the old man's gaze burning into the side of his face, smug and silent.
The officer was leaving. This was it.
Aidan exhaled sharply and dropped his shoulders in reluctant defeat. He had no choice but to follow the officer out the door, his pulse still thundering with helplessness.
—
Back home, Aidan dragged himself to his room and stared blankly at his books. The textbooks were still open from last night's studying session, notes scrawled messily in the margins. He had an exam today. An important one.
And yet, as he changed into fresh clothes and forced himself to head to campus, his mind wasn't on his test. It wasn't on his future.
It was on those eyes.
Those haunting, desperate grey eyes that had stared back at him through the cottonwood leaves.
Someone had been there. Someone needed him.
And Aidan wasn't about to let it go.
No matter what it took, he was going to figure out the truth. And he was going to get that person out of there.
Even if he had to do it alone.
***
Just a quick note
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