Ron thanked the cashier as he took the paper bag that held his dinner. The highschooler smiled at him. “Have a good day, Mr. Reagan.”

“Thank you! You too,” Ron said before he left the little sandwich shop. He never got over the awe of people knowing his name. He had been a Junior Official for almost a year now, and it was still strange to hear his name tossed around on the streets.

He kept his smile on his face as he walked out onto the streets. He went through the motions of smiling, laughing, joining in as a background dancer when needed, before coming to his apartment complex. He said hello to his neighbors who were just coming in. Ron walked inside his apartment, then closed the door. He breathed in the air, then let it out, feeling his smile drop with it. He took a moment to glance at his apartment. It was larger than most apartments in Musical Land, but probably because it looked so bare. Ron gave a sniff as he placed his sandwich on the couch. It was one of the few pieces of furniture he had in the apartment. He took off his shoes and walked to the kitchen, filling a glass of water to bring back to the couch. He sat down with his water and opened his bag. He almost turned on the TV when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket to see his ex-wife, Jane, had texted.

You have M next week, right?

Ron shot back a quick text. Just on Saturday next week, not the full weekend.

He had the roast beef sandwich completely unwrapped when the text came back. Right, thanks.

Everything okay?

Finalizing plans. The text came back fast. She didn’t say exactly what she was doing, but it was normal for Jane.

I can take her longer if needed.

No, it’s fine. It’ll work out.

His fingers found his water cup and he took a long drink. He set the cup down and pushed the remote over to one side. In the silence of his apartment as he ate his sandwich, lost in his thoughts. It had been a year since he was made Junior Official, and a few months later it would be a year since his divorce.

Ron took another bite of his sandwich, refusing to spiral. He’d be okay. The pain was there, no doubt, but not as strong. He resisted the temptation to text John to go do something. John always suggested the shooting range. A part of his healing meant he could handle this without needing to lean on John for help. He went through his mantra. Just because his marriage ended in divorce, didn’t mean he was a failure.

The opposite wall continued to stay blank and white no matter how much Ron looked for any sort of pattern. It had been almost a year. He should hang pictures or something. If he had the time to get around to something like that.

There was a low rumbling sound, one he might not have heard if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t have the TV on. Ron set the last of his sandwich on the couch before heading toward the window. Being on the seventh floor, he had a bit of a view. Police sirens came to life.

Ron strained his neck to try and see what was going on, but knew it would be useless. He wouldn’t know unless he was meant to know. He left the window and returned to his dinner, quietly eating while some sort of chaos happened a few miles away. He had just finished his sandwich when his phone buzzed again. It was from his Official, Mr. McCarthy.

All Officials and Junior Officials report to the skyscraper ASAP.

Ron crumpled his sandwich wrapper and stuffed it in the trash as he slipped on his shoes and headed out the door.

***

Abe woke up in the safe house right outside the wall. The knockout gas must have worn off, though he could have sworn he heard the bomb going off. He took a deep breath before scrambling out of bed and making the pretense of checking around the house. It didn’t take too much of his acting skills to look around with worry. He didn’t see Sam anywhere in the small house.

He stepped outside and saw Sam a fair distance away in the trees. Abe approached him, running a hand through his hair. “Did it work? Did I die?”

Sam double checked his laptop before he nodded and closed it. “Congratulations. You’re dead.”

Abe gave a snort that helped soften the pang in his heart. This was going to be hard for his father and stepmother. He wished he could have told them to ease their hurt, but it would have been too dangerous. One day he would see them again, and he hoped they would forgive him for the pain he caused them.

****

The upper fifteen levels of the S.E.A. skyscraper were in organized chaos when Ron appeared. He was quite sure he had gotten there early, as he only lived two metro stops away. A huge group of agents and police officers filled the elevators as soon as he walked off, all double checking orders. Ron poked his head into the conference room. Every single Official was there, barking orders of one kind or another.

Ron walked inside the conference room. “What happened? How can I help?” he asked Mr. McCarthy.

“One of the interns, Abraham Lincoln, has died,” Mr. McCarthy said.

“Oh, how horrible,” Ron said.

“Under suspicious circumstances.” Mr. McCarthy’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll be interviewing his parents to see if they knew anything.”

Ron stared at Mr. McCarthy, a frown growing on his face. “Not like that, I hope.”

“Not like what?” Mr. McCarthy asked.

“You look like you’re going to interrogate a criminal. These two just lost their son.”

Mr. McCarthy snorted. “Possibly lost their son. We’re getting information about the crime scene now.”

“You aren’t making any sense,” Ron said.

“It’s not that hard to figure out.” Mr. McCarthy drained the last of the coffee in his mug. “Abe was a suspected underground sympathizer, most likely a member himself. We got too close to him and he panicked, faking his death to get us off his trail. We just need the proof.”

Ron frowned. “Are you sure there’s not another option? Like maybe he actually is dead and this kind of attitude is going to traumatize two good people who have lost their son?”

Mr. McCarthy shook his head. “It’s a hunch. My hunches are never wrong.”

The door opened again and some more Junior Officials spilled into the room. John was talking to two very shaken people, who Ron could only assume were Abe’s parents. Ron stole another glance at Mr. McCarthy. “You’re not going to be doing the interviews, are you?”

“No, no I’m not. That pleasure goes to the Germain’s. I’m sure I could have gotten them to squeal, though,” Mr. McCarthy said.

Ron used the opportunity to excuse himself and joined John. The Germain’s had taken the Lincoln’s and were showing them the entire operation.

“What do you think of this entire situation?” Ron asked.

John mumbled something as he opened a bag of peanuts. “Tragedy if it’s true. Insane if it’s not. The Official over me, Mr. Holmes, is all over this investigation. I’m supposed to be in constant contact with him from here.”

Ron didn’t know what to think. He wanted to mourn the life of a teenager, but instead he was told by his work that it was probably some conspiracy.

“And this is John and Ron, more Junior Officials committed to finding out exactly what happened,” Mr. Germain said.

Ron glanced behind him to see the Germain’s with the Lincoln’s. He hadn’t even noticed them sneaking up.

“Hello,” Ron said, shaking Abe’s dad’s hand.

“This is Thomas and Sarah Lincoln,” Mr. Germain said.

“I’m so sorry about what happened to your son.” Ron knew he could tell the truth in this at least. It was a tragedy, what happened to Abe, whether it was actual death or truely joining the underground. It was horrible, and Ron needed to say something. Sarah was barely holding tears back. Mrs. Germain placed an arm around her shoulder, giving her a rub.

“We’re here for you. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Mrs. Germain said. “We will hold nothing back from you, and we’ll find his killer faster if you hold nothing back from us.”

Sarah nodded. “Of course.” She was starting to lose her composure, and Thomas squeezed her hand.

“Whatever you need. We just want to know how this happened,” Thomas said.

“Madeline, would you show the Lincoln’s what Mr. McCarthy has set up? I’d like to talk to Ron and John for a moment,” Mr. Germain said.

“Of course. This way,” Mrs. Germain said to the grieving couple.

“Walt, you too,” Mr. Germain said as another Junior Official looked like he was heading toward a table with evidence. Walt looked confused, but nodded. Ron had seen Walt in meetings and other activities for Junior Officials, but they didn’t run in the same circle. Walt smiled in greeting at Ron and John.

“My office, please,” Mr. Germain said to the three of them.

John grumbled something imperceptible as he shook some more peanuts out on his palm before popping them in his mouth. The four of them left the conference room and made their way to the elevators.

“Thank you for coming under such short notice,” Mr. Germain said.

“Absolutely. This is insane. Has anything like this happened before in Musical Land?” Walt asked.

“It is definitely up there in some of our most insane cases,” Mr. Germain said as they walked off the elevator. They were almost to the top of the skyscraper, a level below President Arnold’s office. These were most of the offices of the Officials, and it was eerily quiet. Mr. Germain stopped at his own office and unlocked the door.

“Take a seat, Mr. Regan, Mr. Wayne, and Mr. Disney. We have some important things to discuss.”

The three of them followed behind Mr. Germain, who moved to his desk and began gathering some papers and folders. Walt and Ron sat in the two chairs, John opted to stand.

“You may take my seat if you’d like,” Mr. Germain said.

John shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Mr. Germain glanced at the clock and leaned against his desk, placing a hand on a huge stack of papers. “What I am about to tell you is sensitive information. By now you must have heard the rumors surrounding Abe’s death.”

“Multiple rumors,” Walt said with a nod.

“There is a lot to this supposed death. Madeline is working on Abe’s parents to make sure they weren’t involved with it,” Mr. Germain said.

Ron winced. “So you really think there’s more to this?”

Mr. Germain nodded. “It’s too suspicious. We just don’t have the evidence yet to prove if it was a cover up.”

Ron felt torn. He should grieve. The untimely death of a teenager always pulled at his heartstrings. But how could he mourn if it was all just a conspiracy.

“What do you need us for?” Walt asked.

Mr. Germain folded his arms. “Your three new interns have either recently lost one of their friends in a horrible accident that proves the barbarity of the underground, or they are accomplices in helping him fake his death and are currently hiding him.”

Ron let out a breath. “Alright. So this goes along with our original assignment to befriend them?”

Mr. Germain nodded. “Exactly. It’s another way they might be lying to you and you can trip them up on it. We expect reports at the end of the week on what you’ve discovered, and most of all, if you see anything suspicious, tell us immediately.”

“Got it,” Walt said.

“Thank you for coming in on a Sunday. Continue to work under your Officials. It might be a long night. I have more things to gather up here,” Mr. Germain said.

Ron and Walt nodded as John gave a pained smile. The three of them left the office, with John softly closing the door behind them.

“Well, this is certainly an interesting development,” Walt said.

Ron put his hands in his pockets. “If Abe wasn’t in the underground at all, this situation is quite harrowing for these young kids. I can’t imagine losing a good friend so young.”

John emptied the rest of the package of peanuts in his mouth before crumpling the package and dropping it in the trash. “Yeah, though it all sounds more like an inside job, if you ask me. I can just imagine that Edgar kid thinking up all sorts of interesting ways to kill someone.”

Ron shook his head. “You ought to give the kid a chance before assuming the worst.”

“I didn’t say the kid killed him. Just that he seems like the type to think about killing people.”

Walt and Ron glanced at John who seemed to realize what he said, and also that Edgar was going to be stuck with him all summer.

“Let’s get back to work,” Ron said.