Chapter 2: N. The Film's Dim Glow

The rain over Los Angeles fell in a fine, relentless mist, thousands of silver needles stinging the windshield with a soft, rhythmic tick. Alice gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white from the strain, the wipers sweeping back and forth to slice through the blurred halo of streetlights ahead. Her phone screen glowed on the dashboard, the threatening text message still pinned in the center of her vision, an open, festering wound.

“I’ve traced the signal source,” Judy’s voice crackled through the car phone, tinged with static. “It’s behind an antique shop near Wilshire Boulevard. Alice, stop. Don’t drive any further down this road—it’s closed off for the night.”

Alice didn’t slow down. She pushed the gas pedal deeper instead. Rain blurred her vision, forcing her to squint, navigating the slick roads by memory, cutting tight turns through the wet. The engine’s roar drowned out Judy’s warnings. The sensation of losing control made her stomach lurch, a physiological rejection of the chaos, but her mind remained ice-clear. Logic was the only anchor in this ship named *Truth*; emotion was just dead weight in the hold.

“Listen, Judy,” Alice shouted over the drumming rain, “I’m suspicious that the film reel Helen Brooks submitted to the court back then was tampered with. I need you to pull the original inspection records from that time, specifically the pages detailing the 'pure evidence.'”

A two-second silence stretched on the other end. Judy sighed, the exhaustion dripping from her tone. “Are you talking to ghosts? Those archives have been digitized and archived for years. Only the core data is left in the secure vault. You want me to crack the Koolen security system right now? Alice, that’s suicide.”

“It’s not hacking. It’s cross-referencing the public sections.” Alice’s voice was cold and hard as iron. “I need to see the original spectral analysis curves of that film reel. If there’s an overlay on the base layer, the spectrum will show anomalous peaks. This is a chemistry problem, not a cyber-security problem. All I need you to tell me is who signed off on the 'pure' certification back then.”

“It was Nora Colman herself,” Judy answered quickly, then added, “She was the family’s legal counsel and the technical consultant at the time. Alice, be careful. If Nora finds out you touched that film reel, she won’t just send a text message.”

“Then let her come find me.” Alice eased off the gas, the car sliding smoothly into a narrow alleyway.

The instant the engine cut, the residual heat vaporized into a puff of white mist in the cold air. Alice didn’t get out immediately. Instead, she reached for the black waterproof case in the backseat. Inside lay a roll of film salvaged from the corner of an old attic—the only item on Raymond Colman’s estate list that Nora hadn’t managed to confiscate after his death.

She pushed open the car door, and the cold rain instantly soaked her hair. It ran down her face, stinging like acid. Alice hurried toward the shadows at the end of the alley, where a derelict power box stood. Using the faint red glow leaking from within it, she opened the case.

The film was curled up in its plastic shell, its surface dusted with the grime of age. Alice pulled on her gloves, moving with the delicacy of someone defusing a bomb. She took out a portable UV light—Judy had lent it to her last week, claiming it was for checking fluorescent reactions in old documents.

“Judy, I’m here. Now tell me, if this film was covered with chemical agents, what color would it show up as under UV?”

“Most removers are fluorescent blue or green, but if it was used to mask specific imagery, they might have used an inhibitor containing silver ions. That shows up black under UV, but you’d see a fluorescent halo ring around the edges,” Judy’s voice trembled, clearly terrified. “Alice, you’re doing something stupid. There’s no surveillance here, but Nora’s people might be close by. The signal source is on Wilshire, but she could absolutely have someone watching you.”

Alice didn’t reply. She clicked the switch on. The violet-blue beam cut through the darkness of the rainy night, projecting onto the film.

At first, the image was a chaotic gray-blue. That was standard for ordinary Kodak film under UV. Alice adjusted the focus, leaning in closer. The sound of rain was shut out in the world beyond her helmet; all that remained was her breathing and the low hum of the lamp tube.

Suddenly, at the position of the third frame, a strange streak of fluorescent green emerged.

The green was uneven, showing smearing traces, like dried blood that had been forcibly smoothed over, leaving dark stains. Alice held her breath, her fingers trembling as she confirmed it again. This wasn’t just dirt. It was a chemical residue.

“I found it,” Alice whispered, her voice cutting through the curtain of rain with eerie clarity. “There’s an overlay on the base layer. Judy, this isn’t natural damage. It’s artificial. Someone used a special Developer Inhibitor to 'wash' away a layer of the original image and then re-exposed it. But the new layer didn’t fully replace the base. Under UV, it gave away the game.”

“Oh God, Alice,” Judy’s voice was laced with shock. “Does this mean Helen’s testimony back then was a lie? She said that film reel was the original evidence, untouched by any post-processing.”

“She not only lied; she concealed the fact of the tampering.” Alice flipped the film over, examining the back in the dim light. On the gelatin base layer, there was a microscopic scratch. It was a trace left by a scalpel or a precision scraper—shallow enough to be invisible to the naked eye, but under the side-light of the UV, it glowed like a luminous crack.

“This scratch,” Alice continued, her mind racing to build the chain of evidence, “is physical stress generated when the base image was stripped. If Nora was the technical consultant, she would definitely know this technique. She exploited Helen’s lack of technical understanding. Or… Helen knew it was fake, but she chose to comply.”

“Helen loved the family’s honor more than the truth,” Judy let out a bitter laugh. “It’s an old habit. Alice, you now have key physical evidence. But that film reel in your hands is a thorn in Nora’s side. What are you going to do?”

Alice carefully placed the film back into the moisture-proof box and clicked the latches tight. Rain soaked her shoulders, the cold seeping into her bones.

“I’m taking it to an independent lab for a full-band spectral scan to establish a complete timeline of the tampering,” Alice said, her tone calm, bordering on cold. “Then, I’ll put it on the dining table in front of Helen, right in front of Raymond Colman. I want them to see that the lineage they’re so proud of is built on a foundation of lies.”

“Raymond?” Judy’s voice became wary. “Old Raymond is still in the hospital. Nora controls most of his communications. You want to expose him to his face? Alice, that’s a trap. Nora is the best at using the authority of elders to suppress the younger generation.”

“This isn’t a trap. It’s a chess game.” Alice opened the car door, rain streaming in to soak her pants. “I’m going to break the deadlock with facts. As long as the chain of evidence is complete, Helen can’t cover it up. She loves me, but she’s even more afraid of the family splitting. Once the truth is revealed, she’ll have no choice but to stand on my side.”

“You’re too naive,” Judy’s voice dropped, heavy. “Nora won’t sit by and watch. The signal source is nearby, which means she’s monitoring you. The moment you leave this alley and enter the main road, you’re walking into their arms. Listen to me. Find a safe place and wait until dawn.”

“I don’t have time to wait for dawn.” Alice said it while inserting the key into the ignition slot. Rain streamed down the windshield, forming muddy tracks, much like the altered trajectories on the film.

“Besides,” Alice added, her gaze piercing through the rain curtain toward a few suspicious red taillights in the distance near Wilshire Boulevard, “I’ve already spotted the tailgaters. Two black SUVs. One is two hundred meters ahead of me, one is on my rear flank. They’re trying to force me to stop, or force me to hand over the film.”

“Alice!” Judy cried out. “That might be Nora’s people! Your only advantage right now is that film reel. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Alice jerked the steering wheel hard. The car swerved violently to one side, tires screeching against the slick surface. The body spun out of control, rain rushing in through the gaps in the doors and soaking the seats. She grabbed the wheel, her body leaning forward with inertia until her forehead slammed into the protrusion of the airbag. Severe pain shot instantly into her brain.

“Damn it…,” she cursed, her vision blurring for a split second before clarifying again.

The car came to a stop against a brick wall. The engine died. The sound of the rain became huge again, drowning out all thought. Alice gasped for breath, her hand resting on the steering wheel, pulse hammering wildly in her wrists.

“I’m okay,” she said into the phone, her voice hoarse. “Judy, the tailgaters lost their target for a moment. I need you to do me a favor. Pull up Nora Colman’s personal lab records, specifically the consumables procurement lists for October through December 1998. I need to know which inhibitor she used.”

“Consumables lists?” Judy’s voice hesitated. “That’s financial privacy. Unless you get a court subpoena, I can’t access it.”

“No court order needed.” Alice let out a cold laugh, the muscles in her mouth twitching slightly from the pain. “Nora’s lab isn’t at the family headquarters. It’s in a standalone villa in Hollywood. That house had its air conditioning system repaired last year due to a malfunction. The repair records are public, and they include supplier info for replacement parts. Some of those suppliers also sell chemical reagents. If I can find the specific reagent model, I can reverse-engineer her workflow.”

“You’re crazy,” Judy said, but her speech speed picked up. “I’m looking up the repair records. Hang tight.”

The dial tone of the disconnected call echoed in the car. Alice looked up, peering through the cracked windshield. The rain showed no sign of letting up; the neon lights of Los Angeles bled into blurred halos in the downpour. The two black SUVs were still parked at the alley entrance, engines idling, their lights flickering in the mist.

She felt for the folding knife in her pocket, the blade cutting a silver arc in the darkness. Logic told her that getting out of the car now was a death sentence. But the film was behind her, and the truth was ahead.

“Judy was right. Nora is good at setting traps,” Alice muttered, her hand fumbling with the door lock mechanism. The lock was malfunctioning; she’d have to pry it open from the inside with tools.

She had to get out. She had to get the film and walk into the heart of the city, soaked in rain and lies.

Just then, the engine started at the alley entrance. The two cars didn’t charge in immediately. Instead, they rolled forward slowly, keeping their distance, like two patient hunting dogs. They wanted to make sure the prey didn’t run far, but didn’t want to kill it right away.

Alice took a deep breath. The air smelled of rust and damp earth. She pushed the car door open, and the rain poured down over her head instantly.

“Judy,” she whispered into the phone, the sound of water drowning her voice out. But she clenched her teeth, ensuring every word was delivered clearly. “I’m out. Head east, cross Alcino Avenue. There’s a 24-hour film developing shop there. The owner is an independent contractor, not under family control. I want to meet him there.”

“It’s too risky, Alice.”

“You can’t shatter lies without taking risks.”

Alice bent down and crawled under the low drainage channel, disappearing into the depths of the rain curtain.

The secrets of 1998 had finally begun to wake up. And this storm was merely the prologue.

Judy’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the screen’s glow reflecting on her tired face. She accessed the Los Angeles city maintenance database, searching for the AC repair records of that standalone villa in the Hollywood Hills.

“Found it,” she murmured, a sharp glint of light in her eyes.

The maintenance ticket showed that in August 2023, the outdoor condenser unit of the villa had been replaced. The supplier was “Precision Environmental Tech,” which was also a small chemical reagent distributor.

Judy clicked open the distributor’s product catalog and searched for “Developer Inhibitor” in the 1998 historical directory.

Most inhibitors were generic industrial products. But one note caught her attention:

“Custom batch: Exclusive to the Colman Family archives, featuring a Silver Nanocoating inhibition layer, limited to authorized extraction by the Nora Colman Laboratory. Number: NC-LAB-98-04.”

Judy stared at that number, her heartbeat accelerating.

“NC-LAB”—the abbreviation for Nora Colman’s laboratory.

She knew that from this moment on, the cracks in The Pack could no longer be mended. And she would stand on those cracks, watching the old order collapse in the light of the truth.