“Chris, you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah, what?”

“There’s a police car in front of our building.”

Daniel was right: there really was a police car parked in the usually empty spot on the lane. With a feeling of relief, Chris noted that it was not pitch black with a dark purple emblem, which would have meant that the Hunters of Northland had found him, a prospect he didn’t enjoy thinking of.

“That’s odd…”

“Hey, maybe the seniors have decided to pull one of their pranks again!”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Chris chuckled and pushed the double doors open. The noise of chattering and whispering washed over them as the doors revealed a hallway bursting with students. It seemed like no one was allowed to leave the floor, and the air was packed with excitement.

Daniel turned to one of the juniors. “What’s going on?”

“Bunch of cops and a detective guy came looking for someone, I think.”

They were shushed and the chatter died down. Everyone gradually turned their gazes towards the main stairs where the dorm master, George Framely, was standing. He announced:

“We are looking for Christopher Hawks.”

Everyone glanced around anxiously. There were murmurs.

“Is he present?” Framely asked, scanning the entrance hall. “Hawks?”