We won't hate each other and with time, things will heal.
The next few days I spend in different ways, sometimes with my mom, sometimes with T.Q., Letty and Katsuko, sometimes with Rachael and Zak, sometimes with Rachael and Zak and my mom, sometimes my friends and I with either Zak and/or Rachael, sometimes with all of us for lunch or something. On Friday, T.Q., Katsuko, Letty and I were having lunch at Rachael's house-Zak was out-when her phone rang. She picked it up, as we looked up at her.
"Hello?" She answers. In response to the speaker, her eyebrows lift up and her face gets serious and she stands and walks over to the counter a ways. After a few nods and short responses we hear, "Right, yeah, thank you, we'll be over in half an hour. Thank you." She hangs up and walks back over to us and looks at us very seriously.
"I'm going to call Zak, you guys finish up. That was the police. They have the prints in and they think they may know where he could be. They've had some reports of suspicious activity in a certain area. They said they would give more details and photos at the station."
Our faces are instantly serious and deadly and unforgiving with anticipation. This is the news we have been waiting for. Rachael knows and sees it too.
"Now listen, you four are going to keep calm, no matter what you hear, no matter what you see. I can't stop you from going after him, especially with Zak along, but you are going to be rational about it. Understand? You keep calm and in control of yourselves, no outbursts. Understand? Okay?"
We nod and answer simultaneously, tight, controlled, "Okay."
"Alright then; I'm calling Zak, let him know, then we'll meet him there."
She picks up the phone again and calls Zak.
"Zak, the police have the prints and reports of where he might be. Meet you there, the girls with me, in half an hour. Okay."
She hangs up and nods. "Let's go."
We toss the remains of our lunch in the trash and head out into Rachael's car.
Half an hour later we're at the police station with Zak talking to the Chief who introduces himself and leads us over to some pictures. All of us, except Zak, including Rachael, take a sharp breath in. Zak is fairly calm, accepting. The Chief notices.
"This is the man that ran into your shop, Rachael?"
"Yes," she answers tightly
"And this is the same man who you say you saw kill your friend?" He asks us.
"Yes," I answer, nearly through my teeth.
He nods understandingly.
"Right, well his name is," that's right, we supposedly don't know his name, and I don't need to hear it, I doubt any of us do, so I try to hide the brace I mentally give myself, "Aleazo Dante Mealy".
We all look up, surprised slightly, but then understandingly. Of course, he was illegally tattooing minors, plus some; he wouldn't dare use a name that he could easily be tracked with. Dante was his middle name, not first, and not last either, though we hadn't thought of it that way.
The Chief notices, but misinterprets it with a nod, "People seem to like to know the name of their perpetrator." I try not to let out a snort, successfully.
"Anyway, we have had reports of a man fitting his description in height and eye color looking around at vacant houses, stealing food, looking around the neighborhood, especially at underage girls, some boys. With the boys, mostly it seems to be those who don't fit in, are outcasts. The girls, he doesn't seem to preference much, the popular, the outcasts, just about everyone, in groups, single. A few he's tried talking to. A lot run and report him, obviously, but a few have reported that a few he's talked to look interested and talk back. It seems like he's looking to start up a business illegally, but we're not quite sure of what. Though it's possible, especially considering where he broke into, that he's looking to set up an underground tattoo place for minors. It would fit too; he has a bit of a record, with gang involvement, shoplifting, robbery. His behavior now with the children are worrisome with his known gang involvemnet, and the thefts have all either been book stores proclaiming magic, or tattoo art, or tribal traditions. The reports have come from downtown in a town called Rockville in Maryland. Schools in Montgomery County have been the ones with the most reports, but also Thomas S. Wootton High School. We can contact you if you want to be present at court when we catch him."
Our faces are careful now. We all know that a tattoo shop is exactly what he's after, and we also know why he's looking at some certain groups, staying away from the few who might be smart or strong enough to refuse, or more likely, find him out. He's not going to stop. He still has the ink. We knew this, and we all know that we plan to get him before the police. Zak looks at us pointedly. We nod back, a question and promise that we will stay collected but we will find him.
"With all due respect, sir, if you wouldn't mind, I, and with supervision, some of my friends here would like to participate in finding him." Zak answers.
The chief is surprised, "I didn't expect that. Normally, we don't encourage it, especially with minors, but I suppose, if you check in regularly and you're always with the kids and promise not to confront him on your own, that could be allowed."
"That's very reasonable and of course, we will check in regularly and we won't confront him alone."
"Very well, be sure you do. We don't want any unnecessary trouble."
"Thank you, sir."
"Be careful then, this is our radio frequency, and have a good day."
"You too, sir."
Rachael looks at Zak and shuts her eyes for a moment, then looks at us, and back to Zak, and walks out. We follow.