Chapter 2: The Untouchable Boy

“Is there evidence?”

My voice sounded strange, distant. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white. Marcus hesitated, then slid a sheet of paper across to me.

“The DNA on the jacket matches the skin tissue under Sadie’s fingernails.” Marcus’s expression was complicated. “But when we questioned him, he claimed he’d lost the jacket a week ago, and his classmates backed up his story.”

I felt hope flicker, then sputter out. The words didn’t fit together. How could a child lose a jacket, and then—just like that—be surrounded by alibis? The world felt rigged.

Mariah shot to her feet. “Impossible! He’s only thirteen. Why would he kill Sadie? They don’t even know each other!”

Her voice was sharp, desperate. She stared at Marcus, eyes wild with disbelief. I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, pacing the small interview room.

“We’re still investigating the motive,” Marcus sighed. “But if a minor commits a crime… even if convicted, the punishment is very limited.”

He looked down, his thumb tracing the edge of his badge. The words hung heavy in the air. Justice felt like a foreign language now—something I couldn’t even begin to understand.

I stared at Ethan Caldwell’s address on the file, unable to say a word.

The letters blurred on the page. I memorized the street name, the house number, the way the ink smudged at the corner. My mind spun with questions, none of them with answers.

The next day, I went alone to Ethan’s school. I waited at the school gate until after classes, and saw the boy in his uniform come out, laughing and chatting with a few classmates.

The schoolyard buzzed with energy—kids shouting, backpacks thumping against knees, the metallic clang of the flagpole. Sweat, perfume, the tang of metal in the air. I stood by the chain-link fence, watching for him. When he appeared, he looked so normal it made my skin crawl.

He was even thinner and smaller than in the photo—he looked like a completely ordinary middle schooler.

His hair was neatly combed, his shoes barely scuffed. He could have been anyone’s son. The world around him seemed to bend, refusing to acknowledge what I knew.

I walked up. “Ethan Caldwell?”

My voice was steady, but inside I was shaking. A few kids glanced over, then hurried away. Ethan turned, his face blank.

The boy turned his head. “Who are you?”

His tone was flat, polite. He didn’t blink, just waited. I stared at him, searching for any sign of guilt, of fear.

“I’m Sadie Harper’s father.” I stared into his eyes. “You know my daughter, don’t you?”

The words came out rougher than I meant. I held his gaze, willing him to flinch, to show anything at all.

Ethan’s expression didn’t change at all. “Sorry, but I don’t know her. This has nothing to do with me.”

He spoke like he’d practiced the line. His eyes flicked past me, already bored. I felt anger rise in my chest, hot and wild.

“The police found your jacket,” I pressed. “Sadie’s blood is on it.”

I leaned in, my voice low. The words tasted bitter. I wanted him to break, to confess, to give me something real.

Ethan suddenly smiled, and that smile made my skin crawl. “Mr. Harper, I’m only thirteen years old,” he said softly, “and my dad is very rich. What do you think will happen?”

His lips barely moved, but the threat was clear. The confidence in his voice was chilling. I took a step back, cold all over.

A black Cadillac pulled up. The window rolled down, and a middle-aged man gave me a hard look. “Ethan, get in the car.”

The man’s eyes were hard, his suit perfectly pressed. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. I recognized Richard Caldwell from the newspaper photos.

Ethan nodded at me. “Goodbye, Mr. Harper. I hope you… recover soon.”

He slid into the back seat, closing the door without looking back. The car pulled away, leaving me standing in a swirl of exhaust and fallen leaves.

On the way home, I got a call from Marcus.

The phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me. I nearly dropped it. My hands shook as I answered, the world blurring past the car windows.

“Someone confessed.”

Marcus’s voice was tight, wary. I gripped the steering wheel, heart pounding.

“What?”

I almost shouted. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Who would confess? Why now?

“A homeless man with a history of mental illness claimed he… harmed Sadie.”

Marcus’s words were slow, careful. I could hear the doubt in his voice, the reluctance. The world outside seemed to slow down.

I could hear Marcus hesitate. “He described some details of the crime scene—details only the killer would know.”

The line crackled with static. I heard the clatter of keyboards in the background, the distant murmur of other detectives. Marcus sounded tired, older than before.

My fingers clenched around the phone, my knuckles turning white. “What about the DNA? The skin tissue under Sadie’s fingernails clearly matches Ethan Caldwell’s jacket!”

I couldn’t keep the anger from my voice. The steering wheel creaked under my grip. I could feel my pulse in my temples.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “The homeless man said he was wearing gloves from Ethan’s lost jacket at the time… so the DNA matched. And…”

Marcus trailed off, as if weighing every word. I could hear him exhale, the sound heavy with frustration.

“And what?”

My voice was barely above a whisper. I needed him to say it, to make it real.

“Ethan Caldwell has an alibi. On the afternoon of the crime, he was at school participating in a robotics competition, with more than a dozen classmates and teachers as witnesses.”

The words hit like a punch. I stared at the windshield, the world outside blurring into streaks of gray and green. I wanted to scream, to break something, to make the world make sense again.

I slid down the wall, the boy’s calm eyes flashing through my mind again.

I pressed my back to the cool drywall, knees pulled to my chest. The house was silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator. The memory of Ethan’s smile replayed in my mind, over and over.

“I’m only thirteen, and my dad is very rich. What do you think will happen?”

The words echoed in the empty room, bouncing off the walls. I buried my face in my hands, willing myself not to fall apart.

Marcus didn’t finish. “Mr. Harper, we both know who did this, but…”

He let the sentence hang. I could hear the defeat in his voice, the way the system tied his hands. The law was a maze, and the Caldwell family had built all the exits.

I knew what he meant.

I didn’t need him to spell it out. The world was divided into those with power and those without. I was on the wrong side.

In the eyes of the law, evidence is everything.

And the Caldwell family had already prepared all the ‘evidence.’

They had lawyers, connections, airtight alibis. Every door I tried was already locked.

When I got home, Mariah was curled up on the couch, hugging Sadie’s favorite stuffed bunny.

She’d pulled the old quilt over her shoulders, rocking back and forth. The bunny’s ear was torn, stuffing peeking out. She looked so small, so lost. The TV played cartoons on mute, the colors flickering across her face.

Her eyes were red and swollen.

She’d been crying for hours. Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. I sat beside her, unsure what to say.

“Someone confessed,” I repeated what Marcus had said.

The words felt empty, useless. Mariah stared at me, her eyes searching mine for something—hope, maybe, or the truth.

Mariah suddenly looked up. “What about Ethan Caldwell?”

Her voice was sharp, desperate. She clutched the bunny tighter, knuckles white.