A Change in the Atmosphere

Johnson’s Grocery - Sheridan, Wyoming

As Finlay and his father stood near the entrance of Johnson's grocery store, the atmosphere took a tense turn. The cop who had been speaking to Mrs. Johnson earlier had returned, his expression now laced with a more accusatory tone. He seemed to have different suspicions this time and an air of discrimination.

The officer leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes as he addressed Finlay. "Young man, you were present during that encounter with the fugitive, Lydia," he began, his words laden with suspicion. "It's awfully coincidental that you happened to be there, don't you think?"

Finlay couldn't hide his surprise at the shift in tone and accusation. He glanced at his father, who was visibly frustrated by the turn of events. Finlay, however, remained determined not to be backed into a corner. He responded firmly, "I already told you, I didn't have anything to do with her. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The cop's accusatory gaze bore into Finlay, trying to discern any hint of guilt or deception. He continued his line of questioning, probing for more information. "You expect us to believe that you didn't help her escape, that you had no knowledge of her whereabouts or that she was a dangerous mutant?"

Finlay held his ground, his voice resolute. "I don't know anything about her or where she went."

His father, growing increasingly frustrated, tried to interject. "This is outrageous! My son had nothing to do with that fugitive. You can't just accuse him without evidence!"

A few more officers had gathered, watching the scene unfold. One officer in particular was engaged in a phone call, seemingly relaying information to someone else.

The cop confronting Finlay remained unmoved, his suspicion lingering. "We'll see about that," he stated coldly. "For now, it's necessary to take you down to the station for further questioning. We need to get to the bottom of this. The people Lydia works with pose a very real threat to humans. " Either he was speaking the truth or was prejudice, or both; it was hard to tell.

Finlay's heart sank at the prospect of being taken into custody, his father's protests falling on deaf ears. As he braced himself for what lay ahead, he couldn't help but wonder how the afternoon had taken such a dark turn, leaving him entangled in a web of suspicion.

Finlay and his father were escorted back to their truck and instructed to follow to the precinct. They would have a cop car both in front and behind on route.