The next morning Harry woke up to Zara poking him with a stick.
"Come on. We're short on time."
"I know. I know." Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes while failing to hold back a yawn.
While driving, Zara explained that they were going to a diner she used to come to as a kid. Harry made a remark of how the people there might not appreciate their presence given the current PR nightmare with the Westcity police.
"These people won't know who we are. They won't recognize me."
"Would they be pissed if they found out who we were?"
"Oh yes. They keep up on the news."
A tan, blonde tired middleaged woman guided them over to a booth beside a window stained by fingerprints. Both of them ordered coffee. Neither spoke until the cups arrived at the waitress was gone.
Harry pointed up to the television playing in the corner behind Zara. She turned to look at it before dismissing is using a hand motion.
"Chief is really getting crucified by the media."
"Can we talk about something else. While we're here."
Phelps thought about how long he'd been waiting to get some info on what the hell was really going on here. Zara had stormed into her own office, in which Harry was occupying since he had gotten fired, and scuttled them away to this lake town in the middle of nowhere.
"So what's your connection to..."
"Yes. Greenville. What is in Greenville? You grow up here?"
Zara took a sip of her coffee. Then she spoke. Her words said no she hadn't, but her face said yes she did. As Phelps listened he thought of how he had a similar relationship to his Grandparents' place back in Austria.
Within a secret room inside a hospital that none of the regular staff knew about, was an Asian looking man in his early 30s connected to a bunch of tubes. Rooney had changed out of her diner outfit and into something more casual. She always kept a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt in her bag.
She tried looking at her phone. But she had no service. She tried to read one of the ebooks that her phone had downloaded, but couldn't get into it. Instead she just turned on the TV and watched aimlessly.
It was the same story that was on repeat during the storm while Rooney was at the diner. It was now being told by different talking heads. But the repeating videos and image clips were still largely the same. Pictures of an old handsome man with great white hair. Apparently it was the chief of the Westcity police. Apparently he was refusing to give statements since the scandal first broke out on the Westcity subreddit. It'd been over 36 hours now since it broke out there and spread across the internet. And Rooney didn't know until now, but apparently that was a long time to not issue an official statement.
The chief. He had been the one to issue the command to have Pacjack killed. And so without any family or friends, Rooney got mistook for the girlfriend of Pajack. She did happen to be at his apartment at the same time the agents came storming in. What the hell else was she to say?
Well she could've explained the truth. But that didn't seem like a good thing to do at the time. there was something scary about these agents. They were not evil per-se... but there was something other-wordly about them. Like they didn't abide by regular laws. But they took Pajack away in a secretive manner. Wrapped in plastic. And the agents told Rooney to pretend like she hadn't seen anything and just go back to her regular life.
And so that's what she tried doing. But the genie was out of the bottle. How could she return to her aspirations of going to college. Getting a degree. She couldn't after what she saw. What did she even see? Maybe it had just been a dream. She could only hope. But she could tell that it wasn't a dream, because it didn't fade into her memory like dreams do. The memory just grew stronger.
Then one day she was confronted by a man who was parked beside her. It had been after her shift, she had gotten into her car when she realized that the tinted windows on the enormous black towncar nexts to her were rolling down. She thought about putting the keys into her car and driving away like in a movie, but from the looks of the towncar, she knew she wouldn't make it. She instead rolled down her windows.
It was an agent. They had told her that they would be keeping in contact with her. And that she should still act like she hadn't seen anything. They'd given her a time and a place before the tinted window slid up and the car drove off. They hadn't asked if the time would work for her. When she got home, she checked her calendar. Yes that time would work for her.
The place was a park. She sat at the bench she was told to sit at and waited until a person who didn't resemble an agent came by. It was a woman. And she told her about Pajack. And how he wasn't actually dead like everyone else thought. When Rooney was about to say something, the woman told her to shut the fuck up and not say anything.
The woman then smiled at Rooney, before standing up and walking away.