Back in his car, Grayson studied the photos he'd taken, zooming in on Isaiah's face. There was something in those eyes that bothered him. A hardness, a knowing look that seemed to stare right through the camera at whoever might view the photo years later. "Who the hell are you really, Isaiah King?" Grayson muttered.
Later that morning, Angela King stormed into the police station, her hospital ID still hanging around her neck. Her normally composed demeanor was replaced with barely contained fury as she approached the front desk. "I need to file a complaint," she stated, her voice controlled, but firm. Officer Jenkins looked up. "What seems to be the problem, ma'am?
Someone broke into my shed this morning? I have a security camera that captured it. She placed her phone on the counter, showing a clear image of Grayson picking the lock and that someone is one of your officers. Jenkins's eyes widened as he recognized Grayson on the screen. Ma'am, I'll need to get the sergeant.
I know exactly who he is, Angela continued. Officer Bradley Grayson, the same officer who has been harassing my son and asking invasive questions about my family around the neighborhood. Sergeant Wallace, emerged from his office, drawn by the commotion. What's going on here? Angela repeated her complaint, showing him the security footage.
Wallace's expression darkened. Mrs. King, I want to assure you we take this very seriously. Please come into my office so we can take your formal statement. An hour later, Angela left the station with a copy of her complaint and a case number.
Sergeant Wallace promised a full investigation, but she hadn't missed the way his demeanor changed when she mentioned Isaiah's name. Something in his eyes, recognition, perhaps or caution. That evening, as Angela recounted the events to Jallen, her phone buzzed with a text. She checked it, then frowned. "What is it?"
Jallen asked. Nothing, she said a bit too quickly. Just work, but it wasn't work. The message read simply. Complaint filed has been flagged.
Standby. No signature, no explanation needed. Angela deleted it immediately. Meanwhile, across town, Maya Thompson sat at her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. What had started as curiosity about Jallen's dad had turned into a deep dive into military forums and declassified mission reports.
Maya had always been good with computers better than most adults realized. She navigated through archived news reports, public military records, and specialized forums where veterans gathered to share sanitized versions of their experiences. It had taken days of searching, but finally she found something. A passing reference in a redacted mission report. Extraction team led by King successfully retrieved the asset despite heavy opposition.
And then in a forum post by a retired marine, when they sent in the silencers, we knew it was serious. Those guys were ghosts in and out before anyone knew they were there. Another reply mentioned Operation Silencer as one of the most classified units in recent military history. With much of their work still heavily redacted decades later, Maya leaned back in her chair, processing this information. She couldn't be certain this was Jallen's father.
King was a common name after all. But the timeline matched, and the secrecy around the unit would explain the family's privacy. Her bedroom door opened, and her father poked his head in. Still up, Maya? It's after midnight.
Just finishing some research, she replied quickly, closing her browser tabs. James Thompson studied his daughter's face. This wouldn't happen to be about the Kingboy and that officer you mentioned, would it? Maya hesitated. Maybe.