Living two lives.
Yet, this was the first time Locke had ever sat inside a police station.
Locke hadn't even seen the inside of a precinct back in Texas—a place where the local customs were far more rugged. The reason was simple: first, he hadn't committed a crime, let alone been a suspect.
But more importantly: Locke didn't want to go in.
But now?
"Here."
"Thank you."
Locke looked up and thanked a relatively attractive female officer, taking the cup of coffee from her.
He had to admit, police station coffee was universally terrible.
Locke stared down at the coffee cup, thinking to himself, as he watched George—dressed in his Captain's uniform—push open the door and enter, followed by Nick Fury and Phil Coulson.
"Locke."
George gave Locke a brief introduction. "These two are federal agents. Their names aren't important. What matters is that because this involves a missing agent, they will be following the case. However, the NYPD remains the primary lead. Do you need me to arrange a lawyer for you?"
Good grief.
Was George always this domineering?
Why hadn't he noticed it before?
Locke glanced at the expressions on Nick Fury and Phil Coulson's faces and shook his head. "If I need a lawyer, I'll say so."
George didn't insist. He shot a glance at both men behind him, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Then he looked at Nick Fury. "Please, Senior Special Agent from the FBI."
Nick Fury also pulled out a chair and sat down, staring intently at Locke, who sat beside George.
Blonde.
Handsome.
Harmless.
Thinking this, Fury reached into his jacket, pulled out a photograph, placed it on the table, and slid it toward Locke. "Locke..."
Locke looked up at Fury. "My name is Locke Broughton. 'Locke' isn't my surname."
'Who do you think you're talking to?'
Calling him by his first name right off the bat—are we that close?
'I take back what I said about him being harmless. This kid definitely has an attitude.'
Fury smiled and nodded. "Mr. Broughton, do you recognize the person in this photo?"
Locke looked down at the picture, then back at Fury. "I do. Megan Walsh. She's a classmate of ours. What about her?"
"She isn't a student."
"Oh?"
"Agent Megan Walsh is a junior agent for our bureau."
Fury stared into Locke's eyes and continued, "She disappeared yesterday inside Apartment 2801 on the 28th floor of the Star Tower. In a room on the second floor, two bullet impacts were found on the wall."
Locke blinked, wearing an expression that suggested he had no idea what Fury was talking about.
Fury leaned back in his chair. "2801 is your apartment, isn't it, Mr. Broughton?"
Locke nodded. "It's mine. But I wasn't there yesterday."
George could provide the ultimate proof of that. In fact, Locke had wanted to go home last night, but George had kept him overnight under the pretext of preventing "fatigued driving."
If that didn't count as an alibi, Locke didn't know what would.
George cleared his throat from the side and spoke up. "Locke, human blood was detected on the floor of your second-floor guest room. Although it was wiped clean, using..."
"Luminol reaction!"
Locke cut in with the answer, nodding. "I know, Mr. Stacy. My chemistry grades are quite good."
Nick Fury, sitting opposite, spoke directly: "Can you explain it?"
Locke looked at Fury and frowned. "Explain what?"
"Explain the blood in your room."
"I don't understand."
"Hmm?"
Locke spread his hands. "Are you saying that yesterday, your agent broke into my room, bled on my floor, and now you're asking me to explain why?"
Fury nodded. "Correct."
Locke laughed. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't even home yesterday. You're asking me for an explanation? How am I supposed to explain it?"
He hadn't been home all day; he knew nothing.
Fury offered a thin smile, looking at Locke with curiosity. "Mr. Broughton, you don't seem surprised at all that Megan Walsh is an agent. I'm curious—did you know her true identity beforehand?"
'He's still a young man after all,' Fury thought.
But...
Locke shook his head. "It's a bit surprising, but her being an agent was within my expectations."
Beside him, George also looked at Locke with interest.
Locke's expression remained calm. Seeing the "gotcha" look on Fury's face, he shrugged. "I'm from Texas. The Lone Star State."
Fury straightened up.
Locke continued, "The Lone Star State is a place where the local culture is very rugged. The cowboys there love firearms. I do too, but because of my age, I can only watch. When I shook hands with Megan Walsh, I felt like I was shaking hands with a cowboy who had precise marksmanship. My upbringing tells me those calluses only come from years of handling firearms. So, I figured there were only three possibilities: Megan was a cowboy, an agent for some law enforcement agency, or a so-called assassin."
The smile on Fury's face gradually faded.
This reason...
It wasn't exactly nonsense. It actually made a fair amount of sense.
Someone who often shook hands with shooters would naturally recognize a hand that belonged to one.
Locke wasn't finished.
"Megan certainly wasn't a cowboy. Because I am a cowboy. I basically know every cowboy in my grade nationwide. There is one female cowboy, but it definitely isn't Megan."
"And she certainly wasn't an assassin."
Locke gave a self-deprecating laugh. "At the very least, she was different from the assassin I encountered."
Fury interjected: "The Peerless Assassin?"
Locke glanced at Fury and nodded. "Yes. My gut told me Megan wasn't a killer. At the very least, a killer wouldn't be that high-profile. That left the second possibility. I even asked Mr. Stacy about it."
Saying this, Locke looked over at George, who was listening intently. "The second time we went to the range, I asked you if the NYPD ever sent undercover agents into schools for certain missions."
He had indeed asked.
Back then, he hadn't confirmed Megan Walsh's identity for sure, but he figured asking wouldn't hurt.
George nodded, confirming the statement.
Locke turned back to Nick Fury and spread his hands. "The NYPD certainly wouldn't send undercovers into a school. But I'd heard the FBI or the CIA loves sending undercovers into schools. So, Megan's identity was within my expectations. Is that so strange?"
After finishing, Locke flashed a brilliant, radiant smile at Nick Fury.
But in Fury's eyes... it looked like a mockery.
***
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