RED LINE

Chapter IV

Randoll sits stiffly in the interrogation room, his arm bandaged, staring blankly at the wall.

Behind the glass, Detective Grant and Detective Riley watch him closely.

“He’s a strange one, isn’t he?” Grant says.

“He looks… hollow,” Riley replies.

A young woman enters, holding files and a coffee. She hands Grant the cup.

“Here you go, sir.”

“Oh, thanks, love,” Grant says.

Riley turns to her. “What do you have for me?”

The woman hands her the file.

“Personal records,” Olivia says.

Riley opens the file, flipping through. “Name: Randoll Cross,” she reads aloud. “Age: 50. Place of birth: Nevada.”

Olivia continues, “Records show he’s been off the grid for 32 years.”

Riley and Grant exchange stunned looks.

“Yeah,” Olivia says, and continues, “Would’ve been 35, but he was spotted three years ago at a local store.”

She concludes, “Medical records?”

Detective Riley asks, handing the file back to Olivia and receiving the next.

“Records show he’s stable,” Olivia says.

“And the bullet wounds?” Riley asks.

“The bullet penetrated the skin, caused bleeding, but surprisingly didn’t cause any fatal damages—no bone breakage, no hemorrhage, no internal organ damage,” Olivia replies.

“So, you’re saying he’s superhuman?” Detective Grant asks.

Detective Riley chuckles at his question. “What? It’s just a question,” Grant says.

“No, sir. I’d say he was protected by some kind of vest — a flat one, I reckon — because the bullet penetrated the skin but at a reduced velocity,” Olivia replies.

“Hmm,” Grant says, nodding. “Anything else?” Riley asks as she hands her back the file.

“I’ve got, uh, evidence and biometrics,” Olivia replies.

“Give me the evidence file,” Detective Riley says.

Olivia searches through and hands her another file.

“Yeah, and uh… take that somewhere else,” Riley adds, referring to the biometrics file. “That’ll be all for now.”

Olivia turns to leave but stops at the door, then adds, “Ma’am, it’s been confirmed — he’s related to Mrs. Grace.”

“You mean the lady who’s been missing for days now?” Riley asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Olivia replies.

“How are they related?” Detective Riley asks again.

“He’s her father,” Olivia says.

“Duh,” Detective Grant mutters. Riley shoots him a look. Olivia holds back a laugh. Riley nods at Olivia, who leaves.

Then Riley turns to Grant.

“What?” Grant asks.

“You locked in?”

“...Duh,” Grant replies, laughing a little.

“What the f**k is wrong with you?” Riley asks.

“Okay, let’s go,” Grant says.

“Okay,” Riley echoes as they head into the interrogation room.

“Good morning, Mr. Randoll. I’m Detective Riley, and this is my partner, Detective Grant,” Riley says as she takes a seat.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Grant says, offering a handshake.

Randoll just stares at his hand.

Grant slowly pulls it back. “No handshakes then. Got it,” he says, sitting down.

Detective Riley clears her throat and begins, “Mr. Randoll, you’ve been linked to two shootings and killings — one at your house down in the woods and the other at a hotel last night.”

She opens the evidence file, sliding photos of the aftermath of the brutal shootings toward him.

“Dozens of people are dead, Mr. Randoll. What can you tell us about this?”

Randoll doesn’t respond.

Detective Riley and Detective Grant exchange confused looks.

Riley clears her throat again and pulls out an image from the file.

“Oh,” she says, sounding confident, and slides it toward him.

“Mr. Randoll, your daughter’s been missing for four days now. Do you know anything about that?”

Randoll just stares — no answer.

“Do you need a lawyer, Mr. Randoll?” Detective Grant asks.

Still, no response. The detectives exchange glances.

A long pause fills the room before Riley scoffs. “Okay, moving on then—”

“Before we do,” Grant interrupts, leaning closer to Randoll, “we just want you to know, all we’re trying to do is get some answers the easy way… and there are a lot of other ways we can do that.”

Riley leans toward him and whispers, “What the f**k was that?”

“Uh… continue,” Grant mutters.

Detective Riley sighs and looks at Randoll. She pulls out the black envelope and phone wrapped in an evidence bag.

“Also, the envelope was found at your house, and the phone was found on you. These are all the valuable pieces of evidence we have against you, Mr. Randoll.”

She pulls out a picture of his red, rusty car, then continues, “Your vehicle was spotted parked outside the hotel last night by a witness. And the envelope… the black phone… do you know what they have in common?”

Detective Riley slides them toward him, drawing his attention to the white four-leaf clover symbols on them. “Those markings belong to the White Jesters — a criminal empire the government has been investigating for years. They’ve been responsible for multiple illegal activities and assassinations across the border. For a while, they went dark… but these…” She gestures at the evidence. “Mr. Randoll, what do you know about them? Do you work with them? Do they have your daughter?”

Randoll ignores her, staring only at the four-leaf clover markings.

Detective Riley sighs in exhaustion, leaning back in her chair. She stretches out to the microphone on the table, clicks it, and says, “Olivia, get me some coffee, please.”

Detective Grant sips his own coffee, eyes still on Randoll.

The interrogation room stays quiet until a buzz sounds at the door.

“Come in,” Detective Riley commands. Olivia steps in, sets a cup of coffee on the table in front of Riley, then leaves. Riley picks it up and takes a sip. Detective Grant sits up and sets his coffee aside. He looks at Randoll and begins,

“Mr. Randoll, we both got somewhere to be, so I say we just round this all up. First, the vehicle a witness claimed to have seen last night was nowhere to be found when we got there. So that rounds that up.”

Detective Riley glances at him, confused.

“And as for the shooting, we didn’t find any weapons on you when you were arrested. Although we did find some guns in the dumpster — again, we found nothing on you: no fingerprints, no traces back to you. So it’s clear, Mr. Randoll — you’re not the bad guy. So why don’t we help each other here, to find this bad guy, whoever he is? All you have to do is…”

He pauses, snapping his fingers at Detective Riley, who looks at him confused.

“Your card,” Detective Grant whispers. Detective Riley dips her hand into her pocket and hands him the card. Detective Grant offers Randoll the card and continues, “All you gotta do is give us a ring if you happen to hear from them again.”

After a moment, Randoll takes the card. “That’ll be all then,” Detective Grant adds.

“We’re done here,” Detective Riley says into the mic.

Two officers come in and take Randoll out. They escort him through the precinct’s main hall, bustling with officers and workers, uncuff him, and hand back the black phone.

Randoll walks out, heading down the road. Suddenly the phone starts ringing. Randoll presses the pick button, and a deep voice speaks through:

“Good job, Agent Creeper. You successfully completed your first mission. Now that you’ve taken care of the issue at hand, you may make your way to the second pickup point. Your second mission begins in 12 hours.”