The Boy Who Cried Murder

Chapter 3

Sandra swirled around her bowl of tomato soup with her spoon, too preoccupied with questions about the day's events to eat, or to pay attention to the background noise of her family's conversation. Well, her family minus her dad, who was still at work. She had zoned out once Dale had started telling their mom and dad about his exploits in the police station's filing room. Her 8th grade sister Mallory was texting someone under the table unnoticed by the others. I guessed that it was the mysterious boyfriend whom she constantly hinted about but never told outright details.

Dale's voice was droning on in the background. "...and then Sandra and that friend of hers –Wilfred?– burst into the police station and started going on about some fake murder and magic powers and I'll admit it was sort of funny, but in the future, don't embarrass me like that in front of the chief. He said I'm showing excellent promise, and I don't want to ruin that. Sandra, I'm talking to you."

Sandra's attention slowly faded back in time to notice that Dale was looking at her. "Huh- what?"

"You heard me," he responded. "Just don't do it again."

Sandra huffed and slid down into her seat. Dale was so annoying, he tried to boss her around like a grown-up just because he was in high school. Well, she'd show him up when she solved this befuddling case like it was nothing! She realized, sitting at a table with her family when none of them were off doing things, this was a good opportunity to get some intel about the so-called Rinehart Project that the Internet knew next-to-nothing about. But she would have to be subtle.

"I, um, ran into Ol– Mr. Watts, I mean, today. In the park. Wasn't he part of some research group when he was younger?"

"Oh, you mean the Rinehart Project," her mother replied.

"You've heard about it?" Sandra exclaimed.

"I only know that it was stationed in Boysenberry County, in a part of the town not too far from here, in the eighties. It's a government secret what they were researching, so if that's what you're curious about, you won't get too far."

Sandra's face fell. That wasn't much information other than what she already knew.

Mallory had looked up from her phone, the conversation piquing her interest. At this point she chipped in, "Bet you don't know why they shut it down, do you?"

Sandra was irked by Mallory's superior tone, but she played along and shook her head.

"It's because it was dangerous. There was something pretty suspect and probably illegal going on in that research lab. There's some weird radiation stuff too, they had to evacuate the area around it. Everybody says that if they didn't stop it, it could have meant...the end of the world!" Mallory finished dramatically.

"You're pulling my leg," Sandra said indignantly.

"Am I?" teased Mallory with a smirk.

"That's enough," their mother interrupted. "Mallory, legends and rumors are just that. Whatever the Rinehart Project was about, it's nothing to worry about." She made it clear that the conversation was over.

After dinner, Sandra threw on her windbreaker jacket. "I'm going out for a walk," she announced and left before her mom could object. Outside, I took in a deep contented breath of summer night air. I followed as Sandra began to walk down the sidewalk, shining a flashlight because there were no street lamps along her street. She began to mull over the situation, and felt a burning curiosity about the still mysterious government operation, questions that would hopefully be alleviated when she and Will went to visit the old man tomorrow.

Maybe she should prepare a list of questions, an outline to help her so she wouldn't trip over her words, as was quite common for her. She was the type of person who could improvise violin harmonies that could stir up the emotions of the most impassive of people, but words stressed her out. She was mentally preparing the list when she heard a loud crash a street away and jumped in her skin.

A moment later, the same person who had caused the crash turned the corner onto the street Sandra was on. Sandra ducked into the shadows behind some garbage cans. She saw the person pass by, a woman in a heavy peacoat. The woman seemed anxious, and held in her hand was... I realized it only a second before she did, but the moon glinting off of the polished metal revealed what it was. The woman was carrying a pistol.

She was several meters past where Sandra was still hidden, when the latter accidentally nudged the garbage cans and a lid clattered to the ground, making a noise that cut through the tangible silence like hell's demons in choir practice.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" called the woman. Sandra's heart was hammering, and so was mine. We both stayed as still and quiet as possible, barely even breathing.

After several heart-stopping seconds, the woman was satisfied and left, causing Sandra to let out the breath she had been holding. She turned in the opposite direction and ran all the way back home.

Finally she reached her block and slowed down to a fast-paced walk. It was only then she realized something that panic was holding her back from before. What if the woman in the park was the murderer? What could she possibly be doing alone at night with a weapon like that? By letting her go, was Leonard Watts in imminent danger? But it wasn't like she could have done anything to stop her either, all by herself and the police would be no help. She realized if this really had been the murderer, that night's encounter could have gone horribly different had the lady inspected her hiding place more closely. But there was no point in worrying about it right now, she told herself. Trying to set her thoughts aside, she got into her pajamas and settled in for a good night's rest.