Several quiet and thankfully uneventful days passed since Marconi had left. As for me, I tried not to leave unless it was absolutely necessary. Most of the time it wasn't, so I lolled about, contemplating the meaning of life and wondering why Marconi hadn't sent word as to where he was or what he was doing; he generally would. The morning was hazy and a small sliver of sunlight found its way under the door and through the curtained window. I had just returned inside with the morning edition and plopped myself down to skim it. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped as I caught sight of the page one headline: LOCAL CHILD FOUND DEAD: FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED. At first glance, I suspected and feared that Greyson might have had something to do with it, but my mind was put at ease when I read further and saw that it was a boy from Manhattan called Dirk Galloway of whom I'd never heard. Greyson had a history of outrageous stunts and it was only a matter of time before he pulled of another one, but I didn't see the use in worrying because he was out of town at the time anyhow, so sleep once again became my friend and I curled up for a nice catnap. I began to dream... I hated dreaming because they usually ended up in nightmares. That morning, however I got a little more than I bargained for by way of those nightmares.

A dark blue tint fell over my eyes and the images began to flow like molten forms around in my head. A loud banging resounded and echoed forth from the back of my head. It grew louder and the images faded away as I awoke to loud shouting and shuffling of several policemen ransacking my little home. One shook me violently and pulled me out of bed, but I beat him to the punch questionwise.

"What is going on here?" I demanded.

"Where is he? You must know! This is the home of Greyson Marconi, is it not? Speak up girl!"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean he's not here?" He steamed.

"I mean what I say, he's been gone for days."

He whistled and the other officers congregated back in the main room. The place was torn to shreds, and I was only slightly shaken and angry.

"The girl says he's been gone for days."

I interrupted, "What is this all about!"

"Dear, your brother is wanted for the murder of that boy in Manhattan. We're looking for him so we can put him in jail where he belongs."

"Didn't you hear me? He's not here, and he wasn't in Manhattan the night all of that happened," I was furious and ready to cry at the same time, but I did realize that there was no reasoning with these men. I gave up. Thank goodness my reasoning skills kicked in every once in a while, "How do you know that it was him?"

"One of the eyewitnesses came forward and named him."

"And you base everything on that?! Did you ever think that he could be lying?" I exploded, throwing myself in his general direction.

"Eyewitnesses don't lie!" He defended, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me back onto the bed.

"I'm sayin' he wasn't an eyewitness. I'm saying he's a liar and apparently has something against Greyson."

"We don't have time for this. There is enough evidence to get him on. Is it not a fact that his nickname is...." he pulled out a sheet of paper that had some information scribbled. "Here it is, 'Snake Eyes'? Well, a pair of dice were found near the body that were left showing snake eyes. That's enough for me." With that, they left, and didn't even close the door behind them.

Though I would never openly admit it, the evidence was almost enough for me too. But, of course, I had to take his side. I would have, no matter what. Just because I had to. My mind reeled with what to do next, then it hit me: "McCartney."

ch.13