Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Shadow on the Slide

At noon, at the Smallville Salon Restaurant.

The air was filled with the ambient sounds of dining: spoons clinking in cups, hot oil sizzling in pans, and forks scraping against plates and dishes. Peter turned over the soft-boiled eggs on his plate and looked up toward the school not far away.

It had been three days since Clark and Azu first started school. The two energetic boys had yet to settle down from the excitement of their first few days.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

Heavy footsteps echoed on the floorboards as a middle-aged man wearing a North Carolina cap walked over and sat down across from Peter.

"Good afternoon, Chandler." Peter greeted the man he had arranged to meet.

Chandler didn't take off his cap; instead, he glanced nervously to the left and right. "I told you not to say my name so loudly."

Peter looked at the jittery police officer, speechless. "We aren't conducting some illegal transaction; why are you so tense?"

Chandler was a Smallville police officer and a colleague of Officer Ryan. Peter had previously entered into a secret arrangement with him: he paid Chandler in cash, and in return, Chandler provided him with insider information from the police department.

Peter casually picked up a cinnamon roll. "Just pretend I’m a reporter. It’s not illegal for a police officer to leak some inside information to a journalist, is it?"

Chandler let out a sigh and adjusted his seating position, trying to fit his stout frame more comfortably into the chair. "You always have a way with words, Peter."

Peter crumpled a large piece of toast, poked a runny yolk, and let the yellow liquid mingle with the maple syrup surrounding it. He asked Chandler, "Do you have any leads on the Luther Family Bank robbery?"

Peter felt that the thief who had been continuously targeting banks and jewelry stores in the small town had crossed a line. The Luther Family Bank and the jewelry stores were his own private reserve; he couldn't stomach the idea of some jerk making off with his property without permission. That was why he had contacted Chandler, hoping to gain some internal police intel.

Chandler checked left and right again to ensure no one was paying attention, then pulled a stack of photos from his coat and placed them on the table. "The suspect has gone quiet after hitting several banks and jewelry stores. It seems he’s laying low for the moment."

Peter frowned and picked up the photos. They were crime scene shots from the ransacked jewelry stores; glass cases had been smashed, and metal safes had been deformed by heavy impacts.

Peter set the photos down and asked, "You should have officers staking out the banks and jewelry stores, right? Why haven't you caught him yet?"

Chandler said helplessly, "He isn't an ordinary person. We can't just send one or two officers to stake out every location, and we lack the manpower. You know, since the auditorium terror attack, we’ve had to keep officers on patrol in the streets at all times."

Peter nodded. "Do you have any guesses as to the suspect's identity?"

"Likely a young man—physically strong, agile, and possessing immense strength."

"A young man?" Peter furrowed his brow. That narrowed it down, but not by much. Did he have to take matters into his own hands and become a Batman-like vigilante at night to catch this perpetrator?

*Buzz! Buzz!*

As Peter was deep in thought, Chandler’s radio crackled to life.

"Yes, yes, I’m out for lunch. Near Jenny Street? I’ll be there immediately."

He turned off the radio, stood up, and said to Peter, "Sorry, there’s been a homicide nearby. I have to go."

"A homicide? What kind of homicide?"

Chandler put on his cap. "An old man was strangled with piano wire in his home. Though, it's hard to say—maybe he was trying to hang himself with it." He turned to leave.

"Wait." Peter called him back and pointed to an envelope on the table. "You forgot something."

"Ah, right. Sorry, my memory has been poor lately." Chandler understood perfectly. He picked up the envelope and felt its thickness, guessing how much money Peter had put inside.

"See you next time, Mr. Patrick." Chandler bid Peter farewell in high spirits.

However, his good mood was quickly ruined by the scent at the crime scene. The thick smell of blood, metallic and pungent, pierced his nostrils, making him want to gag. Looking at the gruesome body, whose head had been nearly severed by the piano wire, he frowned and looked at Officer Ryan nearby.

While examining the scene, Ryan said to him, "I hope the smell here doesn't make you throw up your lunch."

Chandler walked over to Officer Ryan. "I’m no rookie. I’ve been on the force for fifteen years; this isn't enough to make me lose my composure. Any leads?"

Officer Ryan closed his notebook. "There’s a security camera at the intersection outside this house."

"And? Did you find anything?"

Ryan was silent for a second before saying, "We caught a glimpse of someone."

"Who?"

"It’s the same guy who robbed the Luther Family Bank."

...

At the school.

Clark walked out of the hallway with his backpack. It was dismissal time, and the liberated first-graders cheered as they fled the classrooms.

*Thump!*

A tall, burly boy covered in freckles intentionally rammed his shoulder into Clark's. Clark, caught off guard, stumbled to the side.

"Watch where you're going, farm boy," the freckled boy threatened as he walked past.

Clark didn't say a word, silently picking up the books that had fallen to the floor.

"Are you okay, Clark?" Martha McConna saw his books scattered everywhere and came over to help him gather them.

"Yeah, I... I'm fine." Clark hurriedly shoved the books into his bag and started to leave. He felt embarrassed being seen in such a state, even if it wasn't Lana.

On the other side of the hallway, Azu saw Clark get pushed and his small face tightened immediately. He watched the freckled boy leave, then followed him with a grim expression.

The freckled boy didn't head straight home; instead, he went to the playground behind the school. The sports facility area had various small exercise pieces, with the only large structure being a slide in the center. He liked to hang out there after school with his group of followers. Because he had stayed a few minutes late today, his friends had already left, so he had to go alone.

In a good mood, he walked toward the slide, ready to head down. But for some reason, he felt like something was following him; a sense of unease lingered in his heart.

Standing on top of the two-meter-high slide, he looked back nervously. Behind him lay a quiet, still forest.

"Phew!" Thinking he was just being paranoid, he took a deep breath. As he bent down to slide, he didn't notice a figure suddenly appearing behind him.