The woman working the front desk at the sheriff's department was bored, flipping through papers and scrolling down files. Boring, boring, boring files.
A boy walked in the front doors. She glanced up at the teenager, wondering what a kid was doing there.
The dark-haired boy walked to the counter and placed his hand on the front of the desk.
"Hi, I'd like to know the identity of a terrorist and murderer, please," he calmly said. The woman raised her eyebrows. Why would a kid want to know that?
"May I ask why someone under 18 needs to know such information?"
"Oh, but I am 18, ma'am. I'm a little short for my age."
"Ah." She inwardly shook her head and hit the space bar on her computer. Kids these days, playing so many violent games.
She opened the files and entered a password.
"What crimes has this person committed?" she asked in a monotone voice.
"The murder of Catherine Hillthrop and Anthony Wilcox."
Well, alright then. This kid knew what he was looking for. She searched the files and again entered the password. A red warning flashed across the screen. Information not to be disclosed at this time. Information not to be disclosed at this time. Information not to be . . .
Her fingers stopped typing and hovered over the keyboard.
"I'm sorry, that information cannot be disclosed at this time," she said. The boy sighed and shrugged.
"It was worth a try," he said. He turned to leave and suddenly turned back. "Wait!" he said, "What about the October 14th bombing?"
She stiffened. "I don't have to check to know as well as you do: I cannot disclose that information at this time." The boy looked down in disappointment, or anger. The woman looked back at her computer to exit the file records and froze.
The pictures of the murderers of Hillthrop and Wilcox were on the screen. The first thing she noticed is that they were twins.
The second thing she noticed was that one of them was standing right in front of her.