A.N.: Sorry? Désolée? Lo siento? My internet crashed, which is why I took so long, and also why I didn't reply to your reviews, but I will, tomorrow. I thought you'd rather get a chapter than a review reply.

Anyway, Internet at home is still not working, so next chapter might also take a bit longer than normal. Forgive me?

Chapter Twelve: April 2nd

Call Eraldo Coil.

The next three months were a blur. Bonman swept us away from Gwenn's house into a world we didn't even know existed, a world of comfort, dresses and manners. Whenever we had asked him what he did for a living before, Bonman had always smiled and replied 'I just make candy.' Apparently, that meant he was the owner of a great multinational sugar and cocoa company.

I shouldn't have been surprised. He lived in the neighborhood of the Willow after all, like Olm's parents, so it was only logical that he had money. I guess he was so different from all the millionaires we crossed on the street that I never thought to put them in the same category. In any case, I was incredulous when he brought us to an old, gigantic English style mansion but, like all children, I adapted quickly, and Sandra and I set to explore it as our new playground without many qualms.

I realized then that I didn't know a thing about Bonman, beyond that he was a great chess payer and successful candy-maker. That first night in his home I questioned him intensively about his past, but I only concluded that evasive answers could be added to the list of his many talents. He implied that his wealth came from his mother's side of the family, and that was all. Didn't he have a wife? Oh, I've thought about it. Where was he raised? In more places than you'll ever visit, Jaylin. Why did he settle in Japan? Life just landed me here. And he laughed, amused by my frustration. "Come on, girl, if I don't make myself sound at least a little bit mysterious you'll get bored of me very quickly."

Despite my immersion in this environment of luxury my daily life didn't really change all that much, besides the fact that now my clothes were warm and actually fit me. Perhaps the biggest difference was the absence of any other children in the mansion: Bonman, Sandra and I lived alone, save for a manservant named Hans who was so quiet one didn't even notice when he entered a room. But I still escaped classes to go play with Sandra and Olm. I still got scrapes and bruises from our exploring and returned home tired and hungry. I still spent hours staring at a chessboard, imagining battles and treasons.

So far, I liked this adoption business.

In those three months I solved patterns eighteen and nineteen. It took countless hours of rolling around in my new, huge bed at night, many chess games with Bonman, and so much winding on my elastic that it broke and I had to find a new one, but I solved them.

Eighteen was on the afternoon exactly fifty days after the test, while I sat on the small bridge crossing a creek in the mansion's garden, watching the water flow. I don't know for how long I sat there, just staring at the swirls and little jumps the water did, my mind blank. Then I thought about the pattern again, and it seemed to fit with the swirling of the water, and it was suddenly so obvious I couldn't understand how I hadn't seen it before.

Nineteen was harder. After dinner, Bonman and Sandra started discussing a movie or architecture (I wasn't listening) when the brilliant idea that the pattern was three dimensional came to me. I was used to thinking in only two dimensions, most likely because of chess, and I never considered that they would draw a three dimensional pattern on a two dimensional paper. As I tested out the theory, developing the structure in my mind, I realized that it wasn't only three dimensional, but folded onto itself in a layered disposition, like an origami. When I figured it out I was smiling like an idiot for a whole week.

Twenty was still impossible. In fact, I would never find the answer to that one myself, L would give it to me. But all in due time.

On the downside, the media were beyond irritating. They were hateful. They didn't dare stalk us through our high-class neighborhood, but Haru, who still lived with Inspector Gwenn on the other side of the city, had them on his back twenty-four seven.

It interfered with his recovery. Or rather, the cameras evaporated all the progress he'd made with us. He started building forts again and refusing to come out or let anyone in. It didn't help that the one time we managed to get him outside, he was assaulted by a torrent of microphones and broke down again. Inspector Gwenn stopped taking him to the clinic, as the risk wasn't worth the meager benefits it represented.

Jun was seething. No sooner was he discharged from the hospital he stormed over and ordered the media to clear off, fruitlessly, of course. He even swore under his breath when he thought we weren't listening, which was funny because he always scolded us for swearing. He was the only one Haru let inside his forts anymore, and when he emerged he was thoughtful, staring out the window without moving for hours. One time I sat next to him, breaking the daze he was in with a very pragmatic question. "Is he gong to testify?"

His black eyes shifted to me and a small crease formed between his eyebrows. Jun had always been very expressive with his face, but now it was cold like a block of ice. "He says he doesn't want to." His mouth became a thin line. "And I don't blame him. Why can't they leave him alone? Did you even know Haru before that man... did that to him? And then these motherf- these idiots with their cameras are just..." He seemed to choke.

I remained silent. Sandra was the one who knew what to do to comfort people. I only felt a fraction of the emotions Jun seemed so passionate about. To my eyes, the media storm would pass, Haru would become his old self again, and L would catch Kira. Was I being too optimistic?

"We'll protect him," he abruptly stated, his fingers clenching into a tight fist. "We'll protect him till all of this passes." And he went back to staring out the window absently.

Jun wasn't the only angry one. Sandra was furious. At first she had been glad for all the attention, but soon she grew bored and weary. They made the news of the trial sound almost as important as the Kira deaths, and as soon as she realized what was happening she refused to participate in any more TV interviews or make any more declarations. "It's ridiculous!" she exclaimed one time, at the edge of her patience. "I turn the TV on, and it's the Willow Case or the Chess Detectives! They forget that there's a serial killer loose in our city!" She angrily pushed one of her black strands away and wiped her eyes.

I smiled slightly at the name, but didn't look up from my chess game. The Chess Detectives. Heh heh. "It makes sense."

She whirled towards me. "It makes sense? Ignoring the Kira deaths makes sense? Not talking about a problem doesn't make it go away!"

Sometimes, I sincerly believed they ought to make Sandra President. "No, but it helps people feel safe. What would you rather make a report about? A phantom murderer who can kill people without even touching them, or four brave children unveiling a massive scale corruption scheme?" I moved another piece calmly forwards. "Besides, it works against Kira. He wants attention and recognition, like a baby. By stealing the spotlight we are effectively hindering him from his goal."

She thought about it. That was what I liked about Sandra: she was always ready to listen and incorporate different points of view into her thinking. Not like Olm, who was like a one-minded bull, or Haru, who was too scared to have a thought of his own. "I guess you're right." She frowned. "But still."

She had a point: but still. If Kira wasn't talked about, people would come to subconsciously start tolerating him. They would start to think it was 'normal' for criminals to spontaneously die in their cells. I didn't expect L to use the media anymore to draw him out, now that he had a suspect, but still, it would be nice to know how things were going. I was starting to run out of mysteries to keep myself busy.

At one point, I started wishing that something, anything, would happen, that a new puzzle would come my way. After the taste of a real case, our make-believe games never captured my interest for long. I wanted a new, a dangerous, an exciting, case.

I got what I asked for, but not in the way I envisioned.

The legal machine, pressured by the public, set to work surprisingly quickly. I'd heard of people who had to wait more than two years for a simple divorce to be processed, but in just three months we were called to the courtroom to testify. It wasn't for the Director's trial yet, but for the members of the awards committee who had accepted bribes, the ones on our list. I was internally glad. Haru had to take it one step at a time. He wasn't ready for the Director yet.

The night before the trial I asked Bonman if he could take us to Inspector Gwenn's place again, so we could all sleep next to each other, like we used to in the orphanage. He fixed me with his blue eyes for a second, guessing at my motive, before nodding wordlessly.

Haru was hidden inside his castle of bedsheets, a torchlight hanging from the ceiling acting as the lamp. After speaking to him from the closed window for half an hour, he grudgingly let me come in, pulling the sheets aside so I could pass. I placed orange worms in front of him as I sat down, and he fell on them like a voracious ant, sucking on them with disgusting noises.

I looked around curiously. He had perfected building forts down to an art. Now ropes and pulleys held up the sheets and opened and closed the windows, and he even had small furniture and decorations. "What's that?" I asked, nodding to a pile of small, colored blocks lying in a corner.

He looked at them and smiled. "They're called Lego. I'm building a miniature castle inside the bigger castle." He crawled over to them and started searching through the pile, before holding up a red block proudly. It had a yellow smiley face drawn on it. "This one's my favorite." He set it down and started piling up the blocks on top of each other, absorbed.

"What did the specialist say?" I asked after a while, more out of curiosity than anything else.

He jumped, as if he'd forgotten I was there, but then his tense muscles relaxed. "T-That I have something something and agoraphobia. Which is fear of wide places and going outside. He says that's why I build forts. B-but he's wrong. I build them because I like to." He looked down at the pile of Lego, his hands trembling a bit, and abruptly changed the subject. "Jun says I'll be safe."

"You will," I assured.

"But he also says there'll be c-cameras tomorrow."

I didn't reply.

"He says there'll be lots of people."

"Just one hour," I cut him off abruptly. He looked up at me, eyes huge and black. "Just one hour," I repeated more softly, "and then you can come back here. You only have to answer some questions for one hour." Perhaps if I gave him a concrete, tangible goal he would find it easier. To be honest, I didn't like the idea of appearing on a public trial and cameras either. One hour, and it would be over. It was my goal, too.

He swallowed and lowered his head, rubbing his arms where the scars were. "A-Are they gonna be about..."

"I don't think so," I replied, understanding what he meant. "They'll just ask you about the evidence and how we got it."

He relaxed visibly. He stopped the rubbing and no longer tried to bite off his lower lip. "If I testify, t-they will go to jail," he said, smiling hesitantly at me. "And they won't hurt anyone else."

I'd underestimated Haru. He was braver than I'd given him credit for. I could see in his eyes that, despite the deep-rooted fear, he knew that it had to be done, and he was ready to do it.

In Chess, Rooks were hidden away in a corner of the chessboard, behind the Bishop, behind the Knight. They were usually the last pieces in the whole game to be moved. But, aside from the Queen, they were the most powerful pieces, and when they were moved they became decisive and indispensable. Perhaps I had inadvertently named Haru with a startling accuracy, or perhaps he had grown to fit his name. I grinned. "Exactly. They won't hurt anyone else."

Unfortunately, that night, Haru went missing.

Sandra and I had been sleeping in the same room as him, and, when we woke up, he simply wasn't there anymore. He wasn't downstairs either. He wasn't anywhere in the house.

He was kidnapped, that was what they said. Jun ran around in circles, tearing his hair out, screaming he was going to kill that fucking sonnovabitch Director. Inspector Gwenn, after upturning every stone around the house trying to find him, called the station and ordered them to start a full-blown search, with patrol cars and everything. She was surprisingly calm, but then again, she was a policeman. Sandra, for the first time, was rooted in place, not knowing what to do. Bonman arrived as soon as he heard the news and took her and me back to the safety of his well-guarded mansion before I could observe any more reactions.

The media, of course, had caught wind of the event and were biting at our heels, their vans racing behind our limousine. Hans had to speed to shake them off.

The trials would be postponed, I thought. The Director and some of his allies would be put under twenty four hour watch on suspicions of kidnapping, but the trials would have to wait until Haru was found again.

I wasn't convinced. I didn't believe someone had managed to break in and out of a policeman's house, holding a child under his arm, without anybody in the house noticing. I also found it odd that the kidnapper had taken only Haru, when the other two children in the room were also key pieces of the Willow Case. But it had been done, and I had to discover who had done it. And fast.

This time, Haru's life was on the line. I slipped into Detective Bishop's clear, logical mind to try to push back the fear churning in my stomach. Brutally I realized that it wouldn't do. I had gotten what I'd asked for, but on a whole new level that I hadn't bargained for, as if fate was laughing at me. I couldn't afford playing detective anymore. This time, it was much more serious, because Haru could be dead. We needed outside help.

"Call Eraldo Coil," I concluded, watching the trees race past the car window.

Besides me, Bonman let out a long sigh. "Yes," he agreed, "it is a good idea."