Chapter 3: A Series of Strange Midnight Events

You continue to pace back and forth across your former parking spot, starting left towards the police station, then right back towards Trenton's house. It is when you hear a car door close in the distance, from behind the house, that you push yourself into a decision:
Can you catch Hal and Emily before they leave?
With a deep breath, you take quick steps across the grass, shadowy under a sky turning ominous with gathering dark clouds. The front door is locked and the house dark, but the sound of the car came from behind the building, towards the private driveway: you hear it again and begin to walk in its direction. What will I tell them? What could they do for me anyway? Your steps are faltering with uncertainty the closer you get, but desperation moves you onward.
You are just rounding the corner, piecing together a conversation in your head, when raised voices emerging from the back door of the house stop you in your tracks. One is undoubtedly Hal's. The other...also familiar but yet unidentifiable. The unknown voice is the first you hear clearly.
"What are you going to do about it, friend?" the last word spoken so harshly, it is barely recognizable as itself.
"Please don't do this. You don't need this. He doesn’t need this. We don't need this!"
"Go home, Hal. This doesn't concern you." The voices are shifting, moving around, becoming harder to hear. You step forward cautiously, slowly gaining on the corner of the house inch by inch.
"How can you say that after how long we've been in business. Well--how long we've been friends at that! Not only do I have a responsibility to the people who came here tonight in trust, but I have a responsibility to you--to keep you from harming yourself, your family--"
"The business," interrupted a sneering voice. "The integrity of the business. Well, you had no problem with that the first few times we were in need." Nothing from Hal. You are close enough that you are beginning to see movement; you take another small step forward.
A burst of sudden light blinds you: You've set off the motion sensor flood lights hanging from the back corner of the roof. Startled, you shield your eyes and wait for the black spots in your vision to dissipate. In the haze of light and black, you see a figure walking towards you, outlined by the brightness streaming from behind him. A hand reaches out to you, then a voice.
“Oh, it’s you! You certainly frightened us.” Hal’s voice is kind, but he cannot hide the nervousness underlying his tone. “I thought for sure you’d gone home.”
“I certainly tried.” You say, squinting your eyes open and shut hard, trying to recover, trying to be fully present and on guard. “I…I…” this is not coming out the way you planned. “Well, sir, my car was stolen and I wasn’t sure what else to do. I thought that maybe—I thought perhaps you were still here and you could—“
“Say no more.” He takes you by the arm and, to your surprise, begins to lead you back around the front of the house. “Let’s wait in here while I call a friend.” He unlocks the house and you are again inside. Hal carefully maneuvers you into a formal front sitting room and directs you to a red, white and black patterned chair—pretty. Hm. Hard as a rock. Hal assures you that he will be back very soon and leaves the room, going further and further back into the house until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore. You wonder if he’s rejoined whoever it was outside—Trenton, you are beginning to suspect. You haven’t been sitting alone for very long when the very man himself soon enters the sitting room and eyes you with poorly-masked suspicion.
“Stolen car, eh?”
“Yes sir. I stupidly left it unlocked. I guess I was just nervous about tonight and got distracted from being practical.”
“Well, downtown certainly is not known for being incredibly safe, but our neighboring policemen have always been very attentive whenever we’ve had a problem. We’ll get someone over here for you in a jiffy.” You nod gratefully. “Just—“ he moves towards the windows to peer carefully between the blinds “—sit right here and we’ll let you know when we hear something.” The next few moments are uncomfortably silent before Trenton excuses himself and you are alone again. You try KC once more—nothing. Minutes pass—30 minutes. 40…45. You start to get restless, not to mention your butt is beyond numb. Although you get the distinct impression that you are being purposefully confined to this small, cold room, you chance it and begin to pace before the windows. 60 wasted minutes finds you having tried every seat in the room—all torture devices, you decide—and sees you listlessly dialing KC, letting it ring until you hear her voicemail, then hanging up and dialing again. It is now 2am and you have class tomorrow at 8am that you’ve already skipped enough to fail. At least you have a valid excuse this time and should have a written report to prove it, if the cops ever get here. Finally, after an hour and 15 minutes of waiting, you breathe a sigh of relief to see beams of light filter through the blinds to create broken lines across your shoes and the wooden floor. Trenton and Hal must have met the cops outside because they all come into the house together: you “disobey orders” and cross through the next two rooms to meet them in the foyer by the door. You are extremely tired and on edge, but aware enough to take curious notice of a few empty spaces where paintings once hung in the early part of this deteriorating evening. Well, morning, now.
“Mr. Walker.” A tall, middle-aged man extends his hand, which you take with unexplainable relief.
“Yes. William—I mean, Will.”
“I’m detective Jeremy Hobb. Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Neil have already spoken to me about your missing vehicle, but I’ll need to ask you some questions that I’m afraid will take some time.” He turns to the two men standing behind him on either side of the open door, catching them just as they are exchanging a wary look. “Gentleman, I don’t think there’s anything else you can do, but I’ll take good care of Mr. Walker.” He points you towards the door, “let’s go down to the station and let these old guys get some rest.” All four of you leave the house, Trenton locking it securely behind him.
“Well, son,” Hal puts a hand on your shoulder—dé-jà vu. “I’m sorry about tonight. Terrible ending to an otherwise successful evening.”
“Thanks for your help,” you say, your words coming out with difficulty due to an overwhelming mixture of exhaustion and tension. Even as you say it, you truly wonder what good it did to return—what did they do after all? As if to explain, Hal offers a few…closing statements.
“We trust Jeff impeccably. He worked for us once—many years ago when our company was still young. Anyway, he came down here as quickly as he could to personally handle your case. I regret that I cannot stay with you to see it through; this is the best I can do for tonight.” He insists that you notify him as soon as you find anything out and predicts that it will be settled before you see him again at your impending lunch date. You call after his retreating form for him to tell Emily on your behalf that it was very nice to meet her, and he gives a wave of affirmation behind him. Trenton, it seems, left while you were talking to Hal, for he is nowhere to be seen.

Soon, you find yourself in the front seat of Hobb’s Impala to drive a few streets over to the police station. The next moments are hazy. Even the urgency of the situation isn’t enough to keep you from wanting to lie down under the table in the interview room and fall asleep. Hobb tries to keep you awake with pastries and caffeinated coffee—which tastes a bit like dirty dish water…with milk—until he is able to get the information he needs from you. Then, he shakes your hand, smiles, makes some comment about getting in touch with you soon, and has an officer, who has just arrived for duty, drive you back to your house. You survived the evening: the interview—all those questions—and the abnormally cheerful chit-chat of your “chauffeur” to finally slip into a coma-like state across your unmade bed at 4am.

What happens next?

A. You wake up and go to your 3 o’clock class: Art History.
B. You sleep as much as possible and stay at home until you have to go to work (Joe’s Tavern) at 9pm.