||ETHAN||

Carla and I can't shake the thought of Kenny out of our minds. Even Pamela came to us and asked for his status. She said that it was understandable for him to be late sometimes, but to be absent and have no contact whatsoever was just unusual and never done. Maybe, something came up? Carla or I at least thought of checking the schedule chart in the office once we were done just to be sure. I also really need to return his science book to him which I still have inside my car. He must really need it for school and I heard from Jackson that exams were frighteningly close. When I was wiping off the stains at one of the tables, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. It's prohibited to use any sort of device out of break but I did my best to take a peak.

It's a message from Jackson.

"Hey Ethan, is Kenny still there with you?"

I blinked, perplexed, "no, I haven't seen him all day."

This isn't doing well for his alibi. If he isn't at school nor work, where could he possibly be? Perhaps at home, no that isn't the case. I usually pick him up at the exact time and he was very punctual about it. But this early morning, he wasn't outside his home and I was running late so I couldn't wait and left a text. What's unsettling is that Dad went out early to work because he had measures to take care of. Police cars were patrolling around the neighborhoods as if in search of something when I passed by.

-

When it was my time to take leave, I changed out of my apron and double-checked my belongings in the locker room. I then knocked on the door to Pamela's room, "come in," I hear her voice through.

"Hi, is it okay if I take a look at the schedule?" Asking for permission.

"Why sure," she says, motioning to the graph pinned on a corkboard on the wall along with other notes. When I stood in front of it, my eyes skimmed around through various names, dates, and marks: Carla Winston, George Correso, Halley Dickinson. When I managed to get to the K section, I located his name and read his occupation.

Kenny P. Russel

My sight pasted upon his family name. Finger pressed and dragged across the chart, but there was something wrong.

The name, where have I seen it before?

...

Then it hit me.

The day after Jackson confessed, I remember looking at the pile of police records scattered and discovered a bunch of information. It listed names labeled as suspects, specific aspects that possibly deal with illegal activity:

Bath salts,  21 Jumps St., Trent Russel, Jaylen Russel, Gary Truong, Dawud Hawkins.

My belly churned as I clasped a hand on my mouth to conceal my gasp. If this was a coincidence, they tie each other way too conveniently. I stepped back with anxiety after puzzling these connections in my brain, "b-bye Mrs. Pamela" with a tone of nervousness I waved at her.

"Bye Ethan," she waves as I head out. Rushing to my car, I immediately entered and turned on the ignition. From my peripheral, glancing down at the book beside me placed on the passenger seat.

Chemistry book.

My heart was beginning to pound even harder. More and more dots lined up creating a picture. Driving, My palms were sweating as I was rushing towards Kenny's place. The sirens were frequent around and the bubbling in my gut grew.

What is going on?

-

I was arriving closer to the location. How could I have not noticed until now? Every time I came over here, every time I picked and dropped Kenny off, only now did I come to realize. Turning corners, passing houses, I saw the street name up on a directional post that pointed towards...

21 Jump st.

Pressing down on the pedal, my eyes widened when I saw multiple authority cars, policemen, and investigators adjacent to Kenny's house. Then, my heart dropped as I slowly pulled over. The area is under surveillance and guarded. Bold yellow tape bordered the edges and men and women confiscated suspicious boxes, packages, and equipment. "Ethan?" I hear a voice.

Turning around, I find my Dad walking towards me, "what are you doing here? You definitely shouldn't be anywhere near a crime scene," he tilts his head.

"Dad, what's going on?" Horrified by what is happening.

"I tracked down an unusual project and got the department involved for backup. Apparently, this house was an inconspicuous lab producing Bath salts..." he placed a finger on his chin. As I watched, several packs of substances were redistributed into trash bags.

"What happened to the people living in there?"

Dad shook his head, "I have no idea. The household had left before we arrived. They may have predicted our appearance without any trace," a breathy sigh escapes his mouth. My head lowers, mind-boggling, racing, going crazy. Then, I felt something wet trickle down on my skin. Rain is starting to pour. "Ahh, you should get back. Don't get wet," my dad patted my shoulders, urging me to get back home to avoid getting drenched. He looks at me with sad eyes, "is there something wrong?"

I looked back at him and gave a small hug before replying, "n-no, nothing," I lied, but I knew I couldn't tell him my affiliation with this situation. Plopping down on my seat in my car, drops plunge on the windows as the sky drew darker and darker as more rain progressively showers.

Kenny, please be safe and sound...