After that dreaded phone call, I explained to Pierre what happened, telling him I had to leave for the police station. In return, he said he would go with me to help but I refused. I didn't want him to get involved in the situation, but still, he wouldn't let me and insisted on calling his mom Maria to give us a ride. I reluctantly accepted the offer and a couple of hours later, we were in front of the police station in the city's downtown.

The second Pierre and I stepped onto the sidewalk, a chilly evening gale blew in our direction. The cold wind made contact with my bare skin, giving me goosebumps.

Pierre turned to me in concern. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." I pressed my lips into a thin line. "The wind's a bit chilly tonight, but it's nothing I can't handle."

We both strode to the entrance of the police station, leaving Maria back in the car. By the door stood two middle-aged men who walked towards us.

"You must be Amelia Kingston." One of them, a bearded man in plain uniform, reached out a hand, and I shook it. "I'm Officer Fredrick Williams, we spoke on the phone earlier."

I nodded. "Yeah. . . Um, this is my friend Pierre, he wanted to come along with me for tonight."

The two of them shook hands.

Officer Williams pointed to the man standing beside him. "Miss Kingston, this is special agent Cortez. He's the one who's handling your uncle's case recently."

The man gave us a subtle nod. Unlike Williams, this guy wore a crisp suit and tie. His hands were in his pockets and his expression, a pair of calculating eyes and a small frown, was plastered across his unusually young face. Basically, he looked like someone whom you don't want to mess with.

"I suppose you have a lot of questions you want to be answered." Williams swept his hand to the entrance. "Let's get inside."

With the two authorities on the lead, we promptly entered the building.

Passing by some policemen and two elderly couple talking near a waiting area, we headed to a room with a metallic door at the end of the tiled hallway. The officer opened the door and the agent came in first, with me not far behind him. Pierre was about to go inside when Officer Williams cut him off with his hand.

"Sorry, young man, but I can't let you in," he said. "This is the interrogation room, and we only want Miss Kingston in for the questioning."

"What?" I glanced between Pierre and the officer. "No way that's gonna happen. If he doesn't come along, then so will I."

Pierre gave me a small smile. "No, it's fine, Amelia. I'll just wait here for you."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in reply.

Office Williams gently moved me inside the room. "You can have a seat in the waiting area, Pierre. We won't take long."

Pierre gave me one last smile before heading to the waiting area.

Inside, Officer Williams led me to a table with three chairs. "Please take a seat."

I settled on the chair facing a glass wall, crossing my arms. The policeman also took a seat across me while Agent Cortez remained standing just beside the door.

"Alright, Miss Kingston." Williams cleared his throat. "We'll have to ask you a few questions if you wouldn't mind."

"Can we just get to the point?" I said. "I came here because I want to know what happened to my uncle, not to get questioned."

"Unfortunately, we are as clueless as you are to his whereabouts." Agent Cortez walked in front of the table, looking at me with an apathetic look. "We've got little luck in finding him, and that's where you come in, Amelia."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?"

Cortez began pacing around. "As what Williams already told you when he called, you're the one who last saw Benjamin Miller a few weeks ago. Are you aware of this fact?"

"N-no," I replied. "The last time I saw him was in the hospital's parking lot when I left for school. He was okay back then."

"Well, that's the last time anyone saw him before he was gone," Officer Williams said. "His neighbors and friends noticed his absence when he didn't get to his house after a few days."

No. . . That really happened?

"And do you know what that means, Amelia?" Agent Cortez asked.

I shook my head.

"That means you're a witness. . . which also means you're a possible suspect."

"A suspect?" I repeated. "T-that's completely ridiculous! I would never hurt Uncle Ben, or even wish for it! He's like a parent to me, the only one in fact!"

The agent raised his brow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Excuse me?" I stared at him, incredulous at what he said. "Do you think I'm lying?"

He ignored my question. "Let me show you something."

Cortez grabbed a bulky briefcase, which I haven't seen before, from the bottom of the table. He clicked it opened and slid the open side in front of me, showing a high-tech screen and a keyboard. The man in black typed a few buttons and a photo popped up on the screen.

My eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Where. . . where the hell did you get this?"

"I'm an agent," he said, smirking. "I can easily get any media evidence from anywhere in the city."

He zoomed the picture of me and Uncle Ben standing in the hospital lobby from when I got admitted, then turned to me.

"It seems that you and your uncle were having quite an argument." The photo suddenly turned into a video, where I was walking furiously and Ben tried to catch up to me. "It doesn't look like you two were that close."

My nostrils flared. "You don't know anything about what happened!"

"Then tell me what it was about." He leaned on the grey wall near the door. "Be my guest."

I glared at him. How could he say that we weren't close? Of course we were! But then again, we sometimes fought about different things. . .

Should I even tell him about what happened? It's too personal, but I don't think I have a choice anyway. He will suspect me more if I lied to him.

"I. . ." I sighed heavily. "Well, I— he was about to tell me something important about my real dad, but then he hesitated and didn't tell me anything. I got mad at him, made a scene about it in the hospital and that's that."

"Mhm, I see." Cortez rubbed his chin. "Do you know why he would keep this information from you?"

"He told me it was for my own good. . ." I paused. "But he eventually confessed about what really happened to him, which I was glad for."

He nodded slowly. "I suppose you won't mind if you tell us what he said?"

I hesitated for a second before shaking my head. "I'm still. . . not over it, so I prefer not to."

"Okay, then. That's understandable," he said. "So, what were you two doing in the hospital?"

"Um, I-I got into an accident when we were visiting the Ancient History Museum." I fiddled with my fingers. "We stayed there till closing hours so we could talk to the curator, which my uncle later told me was his distant cousin. That fact surprised me a bit— Anyway, something happened. . . and I got into a coma for a week."

"A week?" Officer Williams echoed.

"What happened there?" Agent Cortez questioned.

I rolled my eyes, sick of listening to his prying questions. "Why don't you look at the museum's CCTV cameras, huh? I bet you'll find what happened there!"

"Good idea." He turned the briefcase around so it would face him.

Shoot. Why did I say that? This is bad! They'll know about the fight, they'll see what I did and find out about Olympian Artifacts!

"Wait a minu—"

"Strange," the agent muttered as he worked on his computer. "There's no footage in the museum's system. It looks like the database was hacked and everything has been erased."

My eyebrows wrinkled. "Really? I wonder how."

"Don't be relieved about that mere fact, Amelia."Agent Cortez put his hand on the table. "You'll still answer the question, whether you like it or not. What happened in the museum?"

No, I can't tell him anything. There's no way.

"You know what, agent, I won't answer that." A frown found its way to my face. "I mean, why do I even have to? This doesn't have anything to do with my missing uncle as far as I'm concerned. The way I see it, you're getting into my life too personally, which is suspicious."

"He's right." Officer Williams turned to his colleague. "You're diving in too deep. It doesn't concern with the case at all."

The arrogant agent scoffed. "Fine, next ques—"

"I don't think so, Agent Cortez," the officer interrupted. "I think we're done here."

"What?"

"Miss Kingston is clearly not a suspect," he said. "She's the victim's closest to kin and has a solid alibi. I think she's free to go."

"But—"

The officer's eyes narrowed. "She's free to go."

Agent Cortez's eye twitched for a second before storming out of the interrogation room in frustration, taking his briefcase along.

That was. . . kinda unsettling.

When the agent was out of sight, Officer Williams turned to me in concern.

"I'm sorry for the young man's behavior." The officer nodded slightly at where the agent exited. "That newbie. . . he was wrong to force you like that. Although, maybe I'm getting too soft for this job."

"It's okay, officer. I appreciate it." I smiled a little. "He was just. . . doing his job."

Which was too much for my liking, I wanted to add.

"Well, yes, he was." Williams stroked his beard. "But he looked like he was attacking you, and my instincts told me to stop him."

I sighed. "I just hope Uncle Ben's fine, wherever he is."

"Don't worry. We'll find your uncle, Miss Kingston," Officer Williams assured. "When we get any sign of him, you're the first who'll know."

A while after talking with Officer Williams and exchanging numbers, I went out of the interrogation room to meet Pierre in the waiting area. I easily spotted him sitting on a chair while he gazed around the place.

I waved my hand to catch his attention. "Hey."

Standing, he turned to me, his eyebrow raised. "So? What happened back there?"

"Nothing much, just a nice, little chat." I shrugged. "Apparently the police also didn't have a clue about Uncle Ben, but since I was the one who last saw him, they labeled me as a suspect."

"Really?"

"Well, Agent Cortez mostly did the accusing," I said. "The questioning was okay at first, but then he got a bit touchy about stuff that didn't have anything to do with the case. Thankfully Officer Williams stopped him before he could say anything else."

"Oh. . . That's why he looked so mad when he passed by earlier."

"Yeah, he was really pissed."

The two of us strode to the car parked at the side of the road. Pierre opened the door for me and I went in. As soon as he was also inside, his mom Maria asked me what happened back in the station. I narrated everything I could to her and Pierre while Maria drove.

"Tanga yung lalaking 'yon, hija!" she blurted when I told her about Cortez. I didn't understand a word she said, so I only nodded idly in agreement. "If I were just with you during that time, I would've punched him in the face!"

"Ma!" Pierre shook his head, slightly amused. "We'll only get in trouble if you did that."

Maria snorted. "I don't care! To hell with that son of a—"

Her son clamped her mouth shut before she could continue her sentence. I stifled a laugh.

After that weird conversation, the ride back to Olympian High had been silent. Maria listened to a band playing on the radio, her fingers tapping along on the wheel. I, on the other hand, leaned on the car window as I gazed at the bright buildings we passed by, my eyelids threatening to close.

"Hey." I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

I turned to Pierre, blinking my eyes awake. "Huh?"

"Feeling sleepy?"

I nodded groggily. I didn't have much sleep yesterday so. . .

He touched his shoulder. "Lean on my shoulder as a pillow."

I couldn't handle my exhaustion any longer and the next thing I knew, I was snuggling beside Pierre as he gently held me with his arm, his brown skin giving me a bit of warmth from the air conditioner's breeze.

"Pierre?" I mumbled.

"Hm?"

I yawned. "What were you going to tell me when we were in the garden earlier?"

"Well, I think it was nothing as far as I can remember," he whispered. "Somehow, when you're here, my problems, my thoughts. . . They all just leave me be. . ."

He began humming a little tune to which I listened like a lullaby until I went fast asleep.