Captured: Luke's Perspective

Chapter 3: Natalie

"Excuse me sir," Ms. Whitfield began. "Exactly, why do you need these kids-" The old man wedged between the desks until he stood in front of us.

He wore a nice suit, a blue tie, and shiny black shoes. His white hair and blue eyes was shriveled like a raisin, and his nose and mouth were lopsided.

"Hello," I greeted with a puzzling look in my eye. "Are you two the Hardy Boys?" the old man asked. Cole stared at him. "I am a boy," I admitted. "Cole is a girl." The old man gazed at Cole and gasped. "Natalie?" he asked. "How are you still alive?"

She stared at him in confusion and shook her head. "My name is not Natalie," she said politely. "My name is Nicole Porter." "She prefers Cole as her nickname." I replied. "My name is Luke Hamilton." "You don't have a nickname?" the old man asked. "He wish," Cole snickered, earning her pinch on the arm. She glared as I stuck my tongue at her.

"Sir," Ms. Whitfield said. "These kids need to go to second period, so will you please wait in the office or-" "I asked the principal of I can borrow these kids for a minute," the old man interrupted. "Pardon?" she asked.

He gave her a sharp look. The English teacher let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine," she said. "I have to call the teacher and tell him that Luke and Cole will be late for class. We slowly rose from our chairs, gathered our bags, and followed the man out of the classroom.

Just then Cole tapped on my shoulder. "Who's Natalie?" I whispered to Luke. I shrugged in response. We trailed behind him until he stopped abruptly. "What's going on?" I asked. "Are we in trouble?" Cole questioned.

The old man gave us a senile smile. "How would you like to solve an old mystery?" We looked at each other. "An old mystery?" Cole asked. "Like an cold case?" I guessed. The old man nodded and glanced at Cole. "I am sure Natalie will love this case." Cole took a deep breath and sighed.

"Sir," she said slowly. "I'm not Natalie, my name is Cole as in Cole Porter." The man gave her an apologetic smile. "My apologies," he responded. "It's just that you two remind me of Natalie and me when we were your age."

We gave him a mere nod. "Are you kids a group or something?" he asked. "Duo actually," Cole answered. "From now on, we are called the Expedition." "The Expedition?" the old man asked. "Yeah," I said. "The Wonder Kids was already taken." I looked at Cole, who rolled her eyes.

"Why do you need us?" I asked. "Let me take you somewhere," he offered. "Okay," I said carefully. "But we only just met, and we barely know your name." "You'll see," he chuckled, pushing the doors to the school.

As we walked to the school parking lot, we saw a black limousine waiting for us. We both looked at the man in surprise. "You're rich?" I asked. "Yes," the old man said. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Alexander Hilton."

"You must be in charge of the Hilton Garden Inn, right?" Cole guessed. Hilton Garden was reserved for the most wealthiest people in the planet. You can tell it was a amazing due to the citings of Kanye West, Brittney Spears, and of course, the President of the United States.

"Let's talk in the limo," he said, opening the car door for us. Cole squealed as she squeezed inside, even I could barely keep my face from frowning. The leathered seats were twinkled satin red, the black granite table sat in front of us, and the best part was, it had a huge plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

"I have heard of your adventures on the television screen." Alexander admitted. It was surprising that he has heard of us. Whenever we solved cases, the police congratulate us on our work, but never shared the story with the news reporter.

"I still don't understand," I said. "Why do you need us when you could talk to the police?" "I did," Alexander admitted. "Fifty years ago." We both stared at him in shock. "Fifty years?" Cole breathed.

It was around 1967," he began. "People were little bit nicer unlike what happened in 1963." "What happened in 1963?" Cole asked. "The church bombing of four African American girls," he replied. "That's what happened."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a very old photo of a young woman. She had curly black hair wore a white dress and black shoes. She looked a lot like Cole.

"This is my best friend, Natalie Parker." Alexander greeted, pointing to the picture. "She is much like Cole. Very smart and intelligent, also pretty too." Cole blushed at the compliment.

"Where did you guys first met?" she asked. "Alabama, Georgia." he answered. "When I was seventeen, she and her family had moved here in my neighborhood. My family was very curious, especially myself as I saw a big moving truck right next door to us."

"The family must be from Mississippi, I was sure of it. The red stain on her dress, the weary looks, and the caked nails explained it all. After we introduced ourselves to the family, we helped them get settled in and get them used to their surroundings."

"I liked the family, especially Natalie. She and I spent our days going to the movies, listen to Elvis Presley, and restaurants, but one day it was different."

"Four years since the church bombing, Natalie was determined to find the monsters who killed the girls. She listened to the news, she spied on the neighbors, I was getting a bit worried for her. So, I took her out for a walk."

"Around what time did you guys walk?" I asked. "It was night," he answered. "We walked to the restaurant, not too far from us, and we had a lovely conversation. Our topics switched from the library to Martin Luther King Jr."

Alexander leaned closer then whispered. "She even said that she had met him." Our eyes widened. "He met Martin Luther King Jr.?" Cole gasped. He nodded. "She saw him preaching in the church of the other day. I have to admit, I was a little bit envious."

He took a cookie from the plate and bit into it. "We continued seeing each other until we got married and moved to San Francisco." "You must love her," I said. He bobbed his head. "I really did," Alexander said. "We were about to decide on having a family until on February 4, 1972, she died on the living room floor."

"What happened to her?" Cole asked. "She was shot by a 50. Caliber gun," Alexander explained. "I don't know who did or why. I tried begging the police officers for some help, but they stayed focus on the Black Panthers riots and other crime related things."

I stared at him in confusion. What is wrong with them? I thought angrily. "Another reason why I have called you two to look into this case, because I have leukemia."

We stared at him. "I have five weeks for live," he added. "Please help me find the monster who killed her." Cole looked at me with sad eyes. I sighed then rubbed my eyelids.

"We have to think about it first," Cole replied. "But if we change our minds, we'll give you a call." Alexander took out a pen and paper then scribbled the number. Cole took it then allowed me to see the numbers.

I mumbled something very low then nodded. Cole tucked the number into her pocket and nodded at Alexander. "Don't you need the number, son?" he asked. "Photographic memory," I explained, pointing my finger to the temple.

"Alright then," Alexander shrugged. "I'll let you kids get back to school." We both shook hands with him and left the limo.