Upon hearing this, Roland's eyes widened. It wasn't the accusation of murder that shocked him;
it was the chilling, absolute confidence with which the boy delivered it. He spoke as if stating a simple, natural fact.
Before Roland could even respond, Leonard pressed on, his small voice gaining a sharp, determined edge. "My parents left the house in a hurry with a black alloy briefcase. It was reinforced, built to be sturdy... it should have survived a fire like this. But as you can see, it's not in the remains the policemen gathered. That means someone took it, either before or after they died."
He took a ragged breath, the words tumbling out faster now. "In the afternoon, my parents were on a long call with someone, probably an acquaintance. Right after, they grabbed the briefcase in a hurry and told me they'd be back at night. They said they had some urgent work. My sisters were in their rooms, so they didn't hear. I'm the only one who knows.
My guess is they discovered something dangerous and wanted to check it in their labs, but they were killed on the way. As for who or how, I don't know. I don't even know who their last call was with. But before they left, the only people who knew they had that briefcase were my parents, me, and the acquaintance they were on the call with.
My sisters and I could not believe our ears when we heard the news from our neighbors. We hurried here as soon as we found out. I estimate there was a maximum time window of forty-five minutes between the crash and our arrival "
He knew more than he was revealing, but he couldn't bring himself to trust a man whom he had just met. He was holding back. What if Roland was part of it? Or what if he was just a good man who could be blackmailed or bribed off, putting them all in even greater danger? The thought made Leonard's stomach clench, but it was a risk he had to take.
Leonard's parents were founders of one of the nation's greatest and fastest-growing pharmaceutical companies. Their work was high-profile, and by extension, dangerous. But Leonard had never believed they could be in real danger, not with his father. His father's defining trait was his meticulous caution.
He was the most cautious man Leonard had ever known. Which was why, even before he saw the missing briefcase, his mind had screamed murder. It was preposterous to imagine his father not checking the engine's condition before a drive, or speeding, or simply losing control of his vehicle, no matter how much of a hurry he was in. His father didn't lose control. At first, it wasn't logic, but a deep, gut-level certainty. Now, the missing briefcase was the concrete proof he needed.
Roland listened carefully, processing the boy's sharp deductions. "Who do you think is the main suspect?"
Leonard replied instantly, "The same person you are thinking of. The person that last contacted my parents."
Roland stroked his brown beard, pondering the reply. After a moment, he said, "I don't think it was that person. I don't know who called your parents, but I had the opportunity to work with your father on multiple occasions. I know how cautious he was. He wouldn't have shared such vital information with someone whom he didn't trust completely. I think a third party got hold of this information and committed the deed."
Leonard frowned, his small face tightening. "How could a third party find out that fast? And act on it? They would have to be sloppy. They'd leave evidence. We should be able to catch them on the CCTV footage!"
Roland studied the child, doubt etched on his face. He contemplated whether to continue, weighing the extreme danger of the information against the boy's chilling resolve. He made a decision. This was about his parents' lives, and the boy had a right to know. More than that, Roland believed this specific child—who had held himself together through a living nightmare—could understand the gravity of the secret... and keep it.
"I am not sure if you've come across this phenomenon before, but our world is not bound by common sense or rules. Not entirely. That's because of the power that lies within our souls. Using it, a person can accomplish things that seem far-fetched, even impossible. A common man wouldn't encounter this in his mundane life, but it's very common for people in the underworld, people like us who protect the safety of daily life, or the members of the royal army.
I hope I am wrong, but I think the involvement of the mafia in this case is almost guaranteed. All evidence cleanly erased... even the CCTV footage can be perfectly modified if they are involved. We have had several similar cases over the past few years."
Leonard's composure finally shattered. He slammed a small fist on the table, the sound muffled by the rain drumming on the tent. "So you're telling me they can't be caught?" he choked out, hot tears finally escaping and tracing clean paths through the grime on his face. "We have no more evidence?"
He had held himself together so tightly, driven by the single, burning ray of hope that the criminals would be caught. Now, Roland's words had extinguished that tiny, flickering light, plunging him into a cold, dark doubt.
Roland shook his head. "I never said that. In fact, our department exists to handle cases like these. It will be difficult, but I will catch them. I don't believe in a perfect crime; there is always some kind of evidence." He got up, found some tissues, and handed them to Leonard. "Leave this matter to me, kid. I will keep you updated. Although now, we have to be extremely sure that no one else gets to know this. This information is simply too dangerous."
After a moment, Leonard scrubbed his face and stood up, his small shoulders heavy. He started to leave. "Kid," Roland called out, a sudden curiosity striking him. "If you didn't know the mafia was involved, why did you ask me not to tell your sisters? The information wouldn't be dangerous if they weren't involved."
Leonard replied, his back still turned, refusing to show his tear-streaked face. "It was... my selfishness. I didn't want them to know that our parents' lives were cut short by someone else. I... I wanted to be the only one bearing that burden. If they knew the truth, I doubt they could ever return to their normal lives. Right now, our entire family is in shambles. We have no one else to rely on but ourselves. I need to be responsible... I have to take care of them." With that, he slipped out of the partition and went to his sisters.
Roland stared at the empty chair where the boy had sat. 'They might go back to their normal lives,' he thought grimly, 'but what about you, kid?' His experience as an officer let him read the boy beneath the unnatural composure. He'd seen the profound sadness and dejection, but underneath it all, he'd seen a flash of something else: pure, uncontrollable rage. Meeting Leonard was a new experience. The boy's control over his emotions was better than most adults he knew.
He recognized the path Leonard was now standing on. It was a path of vengeance, a path that would obliterate anything and everything that stood in the way. But he wasn't entirely worried. The boy's fierce, protective words about his sisters were a powerful anchor. That love, Roland hoped, was stronger than the hate that was now being born. At least for now.
Somehow, Roland felt his fate was now intertwined with this boy's. It was a strange, prickling sensation at the back of his neck, a feeling those who could wield the power of their own souls sometimes had. A disturbance in the world, a sense that this single, tragic day was a pivot point. For better, or for worse, their meeting was not an accident.
He was pulled from his deep thoughts by the sound of boots on the damp ground. A police officer in a blue uniform approached the partition flap, rain dripping from his cap. He saluted sharply. "Sir, a witness wishes to talk to you alone. He insists he has information that can only be shared with you."
'Huh... interesting.' Roland broke from his thoughts. After a beat, he nodded. "Let him in."