Echoes of the Masked

Chapter 2: Identity Swap

A few days later, the train finally pulled into Los Angeles Union Station.

Passengers dragged their luggage off the train, the platform buzzing with activity. The clamor of announcements mixed with the sound of footsteps and the occasional shout.

On this long-distance train, a few people were missing, but no one paid it any mind. After all, long trips always came with surprises—some passengers might have gotten off early, or perhaps they’d been left behind at a small-town station.

Seventeen stood at the carriage door, silently observing the exit.

Plainclothes detectives were stationed at both ends of the platform.

Their eyes scanned each passenger discreetly, checking height, build, gait—anything that might match the profile of the fugitive killer.

She knew exactly who they were looking for—

Her.

Thirty meters ahead was the screening zone.

Every person leaving the station had to pass through it. Bags were opened, clothes patted down, and some were even pulled aside and taken away.

Seventeen’s heartbeat steadied. She never let herself panic in moments like this.

She slowly scanned the crowd, searching for the slightest exploitable gap.

She needed a cover.

In a corner outside the station, Detective Archie Seabrook held up a sign, his face etched with impatience as he watched the stream of people exiting.

The sign read:

“Pick-up: Melissa - Seabrook”

While waiting, Archie glanced at his colleagues in the distance, screening passengers.

Anyone matching the suspect’s profile—tall, lean, light luggage, or visibly nervous—was stopped and questioned.

Today, the Los Angeles police had deployed a heavy presence. They were convinced the person who gunned down three people on Halloween was on this train.

The question was: would he or she slip right under their noses?

“What a damn hassle,” Archie muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

His gaze swept the crowd again, then froze.

A young girl in a black turtleneck sweater stood nearby, staring at his sign.

Seventeen’s eyes widened slightly as she spotted the sign reading “Melissa Seabrook.”

She stood there, stunned for a second.

Then, she removed her sunglasses, hoisted her bag, and walked toward it.

Her pace was unhurried, perfectly conveying the exhaustion of someone fresh off a train—neither guilty nor overly composed.

She noticed several plainclothes officers edging closer, clearly marking her as a potential suspect.

But when they saw her heading toward Archie, they stopped.

One of them whispered something to a colleague. They exchanged glances and ultimately let her pass.

They let her go.

Seventeen kept moving, stopping in front of Archie. She curved her lips into a shy smile.

Her voice was soft, tinged with just the right amount of hesitation. “Uh… cousin?”

Archie frowned, his sharp gaze sizing her up, as if weighing her authenticity.

Seventeen said nothing, just lowered her head slightly, projecting a harmless hint of nervousness—like a small-town girl on her first solo trip, overwhelmed by the big city.

They locked eyes for a second.

In that moment, they were testing each other.

Finally, Archie relented with a sigh, tossing the sign behind him. “About time you showed up.”

He reached for her luggage, but Seventeen handed him only Melissa’s original bag, keeping a firm grip on the one stuffed with weapons and cash.

“Why’s your bag so heavy?” Archie grumbled, hefting it with one hand as he headed toward his car parked across the street.

The car door opened, releasing a faint whiff of tobacco—someone had clearly been smoking inside.

Seventeen slid into the back seat, placing her bag at her feet. Her eyes discreetly scanned the interior—

An old American sedan. A radio sat on the passenger seat, alongside a pair of unfastened handcuffs.

Her fingertips tensed slightly.

Her “cousin” was a cop.

“Why’s your luggage so damn heavy?” Archie asked irritably as he started the engine. “It’s weighing the car down.”

Seventeen leaned lazily against the window, tossing out a casual excuse. “Lots of books.”

Archie shot her a glance. “When do you report? I’ll drop you off if I’m free.”

Seventeen thought for a moment, then pulled Melissa’s university acceptance letter from her bag and read off the date.

“Oh?” Archie raised an eyebrow. “That’s still a while off. Stay at my place until school starts. Your mom already sent me money for food.”

Seventeen hadn’t expected Melissa’s mother to be so thorough, but she knew she couldn’t show any resistance—she had to play along.

“Sure,” she said, nodding obediently.

Archie drove, focusing on the road, then casually asked, “What’s with your hair? Gonna cut it before school?”

Seventeen ran a hand through her dark brown locks, replying offhandedly, “It’s not like I’m going to police academy.”

“You at a police academy?” Archie snorted. “They’d shave your scalp clean.”

Seventeen quipped back, “Did you go to one?”

Archie didn’t answer. He drove with one hand, fishing a badge from his pocket with the other and tossing it to the back seat.

Seventeen glanced down—

Los Angeles Police Department. Major Crimes Detective.

She stared at the badge, narrowing her eyes slightly as her mind raced to adjust her strategy.

On the surface, though, she calmly handed it back, her lips curling into a perfectly timed smile. “Impressive, cousin.”

Archie didn’t notice anything off. He stuffed the badge back into his pocket and kept driving.

Seventeen leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the neon-lit nightscape.

She knew she’d just taken a gamble.

She’d won.

But this was only the first step.

(To be continued)