His breath caught when his flashlight spotlighted a man all dressed in silver. “What’s that?”

Bridget pressed her face next to his, staring through the gap in the curtains.

She exhaled. “Oh, that’s just a suit of armor. I remember it from when I came here. That’s Bob’s office.”

Suddenly a bright light lit up the gloom behind them. Ajay turned, shading his eyes with his hand.

“This is the police!” a man yelled. “Put your hands in the air. Now!”

BRIDGET

Imposter

“Do it! Now!” the cop yelled at Bridget and Ajay from the other side of the gate. “Get your hands where I can see them.”

Trembling, Bridget raised both hands over her head, squinting in the powerful glare of the cop’s flashlight.

He tapped a code on the keypad. The gate clicked as it unlocked. He shouldered it aside and walked toward them. Bridget’s heart sped up. His right hand rested on the butt of his gun.

“This is private property. You’re trespassing.” He moved his flashlight from their faces and played it along the side of the house.

“We’re not burglars,” Bridget said. Her heart was a drum in her chest.

“I’m the one asking questions here.”

Hands still raised, she and Ajay exchanged a glance. It didn’t seem like a good time to mention she hadn’t actually asked a question.

He turned back to them. “How did you get in?”

“I crawled through one of the S’s,” Bridget said.

“What?” He sounded irritated.

“The S’s in the middle of the gate.” After a second, she added, “Sir.”

“And I climbed over the wall,” Ajay said.

“Didn’t you two stop to think that the gate and the walls are there for a reason? Trespassing is a crime.”

“But we’re not trespassing!” she protested. “We’re here because we’re worried about Bob.”

“You mean Mr. Haldon?”

“Yes. Bob. Mr. Haldon. I’m his research assistant.”

“That’s a new one,” the cop said. “Research assistant.” He gave her words a mocking spin. “You’re a teenager.”

With difficulty, Bridget kept the tremble from her voice. “I’m a teenager, and I’m his research assistant. And last night he sent me this weird garbled message and then didn’t answer when I asked if he was okay.”

“Uh-huh. And how did he send this message? Through the TV? Or by wearing certain colors in a photo?”

The cop wasn’t making sense. “What? He emailed me. If you look at his message, you’ll see what I mean.” Bridget started to lower one hand toward her phone.

“Keep your hands where I can see them! Do not reach in your pockets.” He let out an irritated sigh.

Belatedly, Bridget realized why he was asking such strange questions. “You think we’re just obsessed fans. That we don’t really know him. But that’s not true!”