Chain Reaction 3.81: Ball of Yarn

Michael

     One thing I don't have in my fabulous apartment is a chessboard. Dad's at work, but he doesn't mind me coming and playing on it when the mood strikes me. So today, I happily move the pieces around, testing myself and figuring out strategies.

     And then the queen goes there. Completely in enemy territory yet as far as play moves go, invisible.

     What a minute... I pick up the queen again and look at the piece, thinking.

     She doesn't have to be there to make a kill. She can attack from the other side of the board: strike and retreat. It's all a question of angles... I consider the angle of the bullet that killed Grandpa.

     But I would need proof. But the proof has been...

     I gasp. Am I a techie or what? I go to my old computer since it's closer.

      I hack into a backup file. The cops took the original. They probably don't even know this backup exists. It's just a matter of taking the puzzle apart and putting it back together with the pieces in different places. Sure it SOUNDS simple enough. But which frame? I listen to the static and pick the frame that's the loudest. Deep breath. Time to get to work. All that time playing in Photoshop with my gamer pics is about to pay off. It's like unravelling the world's greatest knot in a ball of yarn. I have to adjust the levels for every pixel. Yes, it's scrambled, but the scramble had to come from something. And it's a something of the highest quality, which coming from the Goth house is no surprise.

      Uncle Alex was right. I look at the fuzzy picture. Sure, it's still fuzzy, but that is definitely a pistol in Grandpa's hand--pointed at Uncle Alex. Alex holds nothing. I knew it. He didn't shoot him!

      Then who did? Some crazy nut job that thought Grandpa never should've gotten out of prison? Did Uncle Alex have a gun stashed on his body somewhere? But he wouldn't have had time to get rid of it before we all came outside. There was only one gun outside... unless... 

      I see a glint of light between the two men. At first glance, it looks like a far off lamp light, but there is only one lamp in that location. Not two. And the height isn't right unless it's farther away. And it's too clear to be farther away.

      I enhance the image.

      That is a person standing there. With a weapon raised. Light-skinned. Possibly male. My heart beats faster, and my hands start sweating. Am I imagining the cocky anger in the stance? He's one-handing it, meaning he can handle the gun with ease, the kickback and all. Maybe it's just that good a gun. Maybe it's just like the one Grandpa is holding.

     Uncle Alex insisted he was framed. He insisted he saw something in the woods.

     Who would want to frame him? Who could gain from framing Uncle Alex? I gasp. Oh plum. Drake. 

     I have to get up and run to the toilet to be sick. I can't turn him in. More vomit exits my body. I can't. His revenge would ruin my life. I think about Darrin. I don't doubt Drake is holding evidence to prove my guilt in Landgraab's murder, just in case. He'd be stupid not to. He'll happily squeal to the whole world, especially Darrin, the officer on the case, my boyfriend.

     I stand up and walk over to the sink to rinse out my mouth. "No," I whisper. Then, suddenly worried Dad will come home from work early and waltz into old my room, I dash back to my computer.

     I have to see if I can enhance it any more than I already have.

     I don't need to enhance it more than this. I know who that is. My boss killed my grandfather to frame my uncle so that he could steal my aunt. Dad said that's what Drake's always wanted.

     I start crying. No. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be the one who knows!

     Are you a good guy or a bad guy, Mike?

     I want to be a good guy. Sure, I'm a murderer, but my cause was just! I remember back to after Mom died and Aunt Em-Em and Uncle Alex came to help. They were there for us when we needed them. Even as a child, I knew that.

     And now they need me. I save and backup my evidence, securing it in a safe place just in case. The other file I put in my pocket.

     I call my aunt on the way to her house. I have to do this now--before I chicken out. And Drake is out of town on business.

      "What's so urgent that you would call this late at night, Mikey?" Her eyes look exhausted--and for more reason than just the hour of the night. She's unwell.

     She's looking at me like she doesn't trust me, maybe wondering if I'm here as a babysitter, sent by Drake. I'm just Drake's employee.

     I'll prove I'm her nephew first, even if it costs me everything. "I'm sorry it's so late, Aunt Em. But I have something you need to see." I pause. "Do you have a secure computer?"

     She looks at me strangely. "Y-yes. I think so, though it's very likely, with Drake's access and all... No, I guess it's not secure. It used to be."

     "Never mind. I don't suppose it matters. Let's go look at what I have to show you." On the way upstairs, I tell her I've spent hours unscrambling a single frame from their security videos. She gives me a weird look with the knowledge that I even got the scrambled mess, but she doesn't ask.

      "That's definitely from our house. Mikey, how did you get this?" So much for not asking.

      "Let's just say I've been very well taught." I pull up the first image, and Aunt Em gasps.

      "There it is! It's proof! Mikey! You did it! Dad is pointing the gun at Alex!"

      "Yes." I don't sound as excited as she, and I click the forward button. "And this is the best I could do at enhancing the space next to Uncle Alex's hand."

      "Mikey? Is that...?" She starts breathing faster.

      "I think it is."

      "Oh, maker!" She folds in half, holding her middle. "And I've been... I've been letting him..." She starts sobbing, and I pick her up before she lets herself fall to the floor.

     She continues to sob in a gut-wrenching way, her whole frame shaking, like it's her soul that's crying and trying to be heard through the shell of her body.

     "How... could I.... have been... so stupid?!"

     "Shh... It's going to be all right." I keep repeating this over and over, letting her vent her misery.

     After probably half an hour, she calms down, and in a scratchy voice, she says, "We have to get this to Furston, Alex's lawyer."

     The bedroom door opens, and my blood runs like ice-cold fear in my veins when I hear the voice ask, "Get what to Furston?"

      "Well, Mikey. Can't say I expected to find you here. What's going on?" Then his eyes move to the computer screen, and his voice gets deadly. "What's. Going. ON?!"

      "Get out of my house, you monster!" Emily snarls back at him.

      "You killed my father! You framed my husband! You tried to instill yourself into my life! I thought I hated you before, but that was nothing to how I'm feeling now!"

      "Emily! Calm down! You don't know that's me in that picture."

      "And yet... you know exactly what it's a picture of, don't you, Drake!"

      "You can't call me a murderer! Not when there's one also standing behind you!"

      "What?" Emily gets distracted, which is exactly what Drake wanted. But I take away Drake's ace up his sleeve and reveal the card myself.

      "I killed Malcolm Landgraab."

     She turns around. "Mikey?"

     Drake speaks up. "Ha! Yes! And if I go to jail, so does he! I will sing like a songbird canary!" He sounds like a desperate lunatic.

     Emily whispers, "No."

     I move my hand. "Em, I don't care! I killed a mother-shooting, cop-killing bastard. Drake killed Grandpa!"

     Drake still sounds insane. "If I go to jail, I'm taking him down with me! Is that what you want, Emily? It's your call. Send your nephew to prison or destroy the evidence you have on me."

     I look at her. "Em! No! This will clear Uncle Alex's name!"

     Drake laughs. "Alex is dead."

     My gaze doesn't leave leave my aunt's face. "Does it matter? You can still clear his name."

     Tears threaten to spill out of her eyes. "I owe it to him."

     Drake sounds victorious. "Right. So, Mikey. Very good work on unscrambling my scramble. You show real talent. Maybe even your boyfriend on the force could use your work. I, however, can no longer have you in my employ. As long as that evidence gets destroyed, no one else needs to know about your crime." He pauses. "That means you're fired."

     "Plum you, Drake."

     He laughs again, but Aunt Em once more looks livid.

      "I'm glad you fired him. That means he can work for me. And I want him to unscramble the rest of the video. And yes, I'm sure the police would be very interested to see his handiwork. Go ahead and try to make them believe he's a murderer. I will do everything in my power to see he walks free, which is something you will no longer do."

     "You are so hot when you're angry like this. I've been spending too much effort trying to just keep you happy. Damn, woman. I should keep you in a perpetual state of pissed off-ed-ness." He takes a slow step toward her, like he's dealing with an enraged lioness. "Mikey, unless you want to watch the show, I think you should leave now."
     I ball up my fists. He really is insane!

     But I'm not the only one ready to fight. "You'll never touch me again, you puss-covered snake!"

      I gasp in shock. Em laughs, almost a cackle.

      "What's the phrase, Mikey? For the win?" She laughs again. "Science for the win." Then, she turns around and hugs me. "Thank you. Thank you for giving me back myself. And I will keep my word and do whatever it takes to keep you out of jail." She turns to Drake. "I think I like you like this. I should've done this long ago." She instructs me to call the police, and shaking, I do as she asks.

      I relay the story to dispatch, and the entire time, I continue to shake. Aunt Em has scared me. I was ready to protect her myself from Drake, but she pulled that freeze ray out of nowhere. I don't know who's more dangerous right now. One thing I do know: Drake won't stay frozen forever, and I know the second he can talk again that he will make good on his threat.

      Darrin will know.

      I will lose him: the only person I've ever romantically loved.

      Did I truly make the right decision?

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A/N: Yeah, I know the whole scrambled pixel thing is practically impossible. But I figure if CSI can pull crap like this, I can too. :)