《Unexplained: From Shadows》


 Chapter 1: New Partners

    In her car, Cassidy took a moment. She closed her eyes, rested her head against the steering wheel, and breathed deeply. The last time she¡¯d been this nervous, it was her first day as an investigator. Five years later, she wasn¡¯t exactly the most senior person in the department, but no one would call her green. In a way though, what Cassidy was facing now was worse than first-day jitters. This morning, Cassidy was getting a new partner. Her sixth in her career, a career she knew was on thin ice. To put it simply, people found her difficult to work with. Cassidy knew the partner she¡¯d been assigned was her last chance. It had been spelled out, in the vague and uncertain terms that bureaucracy was so fond of, that if Cassidy couldn¡¯t make it work with this final partner, she would make being fired from the only job she¡¯d ever imagined wanting work instead.


    There was no use dwelling. Cassidy would do her best to make a good impression on Special Investigator Ethan Mercer, but at the end of the day, what would be would be. She picked herself up from the steering wheel and connected her phone to the bluetooth radio in her little red four-door sedan. She pulled up her interstellar radio scanner app, clicked play, and started the drive to work. Normally, Cassidy payed a good deal of attention to interstellar radio. She was regularly one of the earliest listeners when new translations came out. She wished she could translate some herself, but Cassidy had always suspected her high school Spanish teacher had passed her out of pity rather than any recognition of ability.


    There wasn¡¯t anything too captivating in the feeds that day anyway. No space stations being taken over by those little black aliens that sort of reminded Cassidy of that one episode of that old sci-fi show with that creature on the wing of the plane, not in appearance but in concept. None of the ships that were in range of the radio satellites, orbiting Mars now with newer models making their way further into the solar system, had encountered those strange bug aliens that took over corpses. Space seemed to have a million dangers. While Cassidy was fascinated by this relatively new technology that provided a window into the cosmos and proved humanity was not alone, she had no real interest in going to space. She figured there was plenty going on on Earth. Humans didn¡¯t need interstellar problems on top of their own. Of course, Cassidy was not naive enough to believe that meant space would leave Earth alone in the future, or that Earth had been left alone in the past.


    Cassidy shook her head at herself as she parked, turning off her car and cutting off the rather mundane discussions of trade routes and spacial anomalies. Even if it had been a slow day for interstellar radio, maybe listening to it on the way to work wasn¡¯t the best idea. Cassidy¡¯s theories, that maybe some of the cases they worked had otherworldly origins, hadn¡¯t made her the most popular around the office. She didn¡¯t think, given what humanity knew about the cosmos, that her theories should be considered that far-fetched. To be completely fair, Cassidy had only been right about it a handful of times, and she didn¡¯t get proof any of them, but it wasn¡¯t like she wasn¡¯t perfectly willing to arrest human suspects when humans proved guilty.


    Oh, who was she kidding, anyway? Even if Cassidy stopped listening to interstellar radio on the way to work, this knowledge of a vaster universe would still be a part of the fabric of her mind. All she would accomplish would be disrupting her routine, which might actually make her more likely to break a record and piss off this new partner badly enough to demand a transfer on the first day.


    Clearly, Cassidy had had more than enough time with her own thoughts. One of these days, when she was confident enough she wouldn¡¯t be away from home for too long and someone could pop in to feed it for her, she¡¯d have to get a cat or something. For the moment she settled for getting out of her car, throwing her canvas bag over her shoulder and locking her door in one smooth motion. Cassidy was running early, as usual, so she had no doubt she would make it to the office she would share with her new partner first. She would have time to put together a morning beverage in the break room, go over Special Investigator Ethan Mercer¡¯s file one last time, see if they had a new case, and generally get her footing before the song and dance of trying to impress him began.


    It wasn¡¯t meant to be, though. When Cassidy reached her office, she had no doubt the man already standing in it was Ethan Mercer. The picture in the file didn¡¯t do him justice, but she recognized him. After all, she¡¯d already read his file twice. Cassidy was not a small woman, standing at around 5¡¯8¡± with broad shoulders and ample arms and thighs. Despite that, she almost felt small standing near this man. He had to be at least 6¡¯1¡± if not 6¡¯2¡±. His powder blue dress shirt, tucked almost neatly into black pants, was rolled up to the elbows, revealing not unimpressively muscled forearms. His matching black jacket was tossed haphazardly over what was now his chair, and his dark, almost black purple and grey striped tie wasn¡¯t tightened quite enough to give the impression it was doing its job. His black, rectangular-framed glasses just barely clung to his nose. He was looking down at something on his desk.


    A mess. He was looking down at a mess. Coffee was spilled across the desk that was now Ethan¡¯s. An extra laptop had been hastily thrown on Cassidy¡¯s desk, and the box of tissues she usually kept had been ransacked. A border of soggy tissues kept the mess from spilling onto her desk where the backs of the two desks met, but coffee was slowly dripping off the side.


    Cassidy moved into the room properly, and Ethan¡¯s head shot up at the noise. His facial expression, in spite of the chiseled cut of his features, was all innocent puppy caught chewing on the couch. His grey eyes, almost the color of the moon, widened comically even as his eyebrows pinched together. ¡°I am so, so sorry. This is not the first impression I wanted to make.¡±


    Though she would never show it, inwardly Cassidy was delighted by Ethan¡¯s fuck up. It wasn¡¯t like she wanted the man to fail, and later she would probably feel guilty for her current joy, but this made things feel a little more even between them. All morning, Cassidy had been worrying about how she was going to make a good first impression. This made things so, so much easier.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Cassidy entered the room with quick strides, a smooth economy of motion, and dropped her bag in her desk chair before opening one of her drawers. She pulled out a roll of paper towels and tossed them to Ethan.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He fumbled for a moment, then caught them. ¡°Oh, thanks!¡±


    ¡°Seriously, no problem.¡± Cassidy picked her bag back up so she could take her seat and begin logging into her computer. ¡°We¡¯ve all had one of those mornings and those files were digital well before they were printed. You haven¡¯t done any harm.¡±


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re right.¡± Some tension dropped out of Ethan¡¯s shoulders, making him look slightly less broad, though that wasn¡¯t saying much. ¡°Still, thanks.¡± He turned his attention back to the mess, finished cleaning it up, then faced Cassidy with a wide, bright smile and held his hand out to shake. ¡°Ethan Mercer.¡±


    ¡°Cassidy Caraway.¡± She met him with a firm handshake.


    Ethan picked up a second paper takeaway cup Cassidy hadn¡¯t noticed initially with the commotion she¡¯d walked in on and placed it on her desk. ¡°This one¡¯s for you. I¡¯m gonna go grab some coffee for myself from the break room if you don¡¯t mind?¡± At her light nod, Ethan headed out. ¡°Be right back!¡±


    Cassidy stared at the little cup, wondering what to do with it. Not drinking coffee wasn¡¯t the biggest factor in her being the odd one out at the office, but it certainly made the list. Bringing her coffee was a nice opening gesture. If she was positive it would be a one time thing, Cassidy would at least pretend to drink it out of politeness. Most stimulants made her vision go a little wonky, a fact her doctor attributed to her occasional migraines, so actually drinking it would be out of the question, and she didn¡¯t want Ethan to waste time or money bringing her coffee in the future.


    She reached out and took the cup, figuring it could at least warm her hands while she decided what to do, and was surprised to find a tag from a tea bag dangling from under the lid. She examined it. Apple Cinnamon. Her favorite. She brought the cup to her nose for a quick sniff. Judging by the strength of the cinnamon smell, it was almost ready.


    ¡°I have a timer for that on my phone,¡± Ethan informed her as he rejoined her in their office. He sat down and reached across their desks, depositing one of the little creamers people tended to smuggle from the diner across the street after lunch breaks in front of her. ¡°I also brought you that.¡±


    If she poured it in and stirred, her tea would be exactly how she liked it, which is what she did when the timer on Ethan¡¯s phone went off. Cassidy took her first sip and fixed her new partner with a wary smile. ¡°I was kind of hoping you hadn¡¯t heard much about me, but clearly that¡¯s not the case.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s brow scrunched up, and he practically oozed what seemed like earnest concern. ¡°Why would you say that?¡±


    Cassidy¡¯s wary smile turned lightly bemused, and her left eyebrow twitched as if trying to rise before she smoothed the rest of her expression again. ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not so sure I want to tell you.¡±


    Ethan laughed, ringing and clear. Cassidy¡¯s eyes briefly flickered to their open door, worried about causing a disturbance to the rest of the office, but there didn¡¯t seem to be any movement. ¡°Fair enough!¡± Ethan took back his computer and opened it up, finding one of the files he spilled his coffee on. ¡°If it makes up for anything, I brought you a case.¡±


    Cassidy heard the little ¡°bee-doop¡± sound that indicated a message had come through on the intranet system. She clicked the link, bringing the file Ethan was looking at up on her own computer. ¡°What have we got?¡±


    Ethan grimaced, his first truly serious expression. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure if it should win me any points. An 8-year-old girl grabbed an axe and murdered her entire family, parents and a younger brother.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Something like that was always hard to hear no matter how long you had been working to solve violent crimes. Ethan felt no judgement as Cassidy took a moment to collect herself from that introduction alone. She took a long sip of her tea to cover the emotion. ¡°It seems pretty open and shut.¡±


    ¡°Should be,¡± Ethan acknowledged, but they both knew there still needed to be a thorough investigation to figure out how best to help the girl and any living extended family she may have. ¡°I figured we could pull up the relevant information today and head up to New Hampshire tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a good plan,¡± Cassidy confirmed. ¡°You have a biology background, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Ethan agreed. ¡°I got my undergraduate degree in biology, then a masters in forensic science, and then my masters in law enforcement. I also worked as an emergency medical responder through all 6 years of grad school.¡±


    ¡°Alright, good to know,¡± Cassidy replied amiably, despite already knowing the information. ¡°Do you want to reach out to the M.E. and see if you can get access to any information about a history of mental illness? I¡¯ll reach out to local law enforcement to let them know we¡¯re coming and contact the school to see if there¡¯s anything they can tell us about the girl.¡±


    ¡°Alright, sounds like a good plan.¡±


    The pair worked in companionable near-silence for the rest of the day, making the necessary calls and emails, pulling the appropriate files, and setting meetings for the coming days of the investigation. Occasionally they would speak, confirming a detail or agreeing on scheduling, but for the most part they stayed focused. At lunch time, Ethan headed to the break room to get the leftover pasta he¡¯d packed from dinner the previous night, and Cassidy ran across the street to the diner at least half their coworkers frequented to grab a burger and fries. When they got back from lunch, they only had a few hours left. Cassidy focused her attention on printing relevant documents and making up a succinct report of the information so far, while Ethan made sure they had tickets for the high speed train as early as possible, accommodations as nearby as possible, and a rental car.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to take a train to the capitol, Concord, and then drive up another two hours to reach the town itself,¡± Ethan explained. ¡°It¡¯s a pretty rural area, so there¡¯s nowhere to stay in the town itself. We have to go a couple towns over, about a 20 minute drive, to get a little bed and breakfast type place. Are you okay with sharing a room? It has two beds. I wouldn¡¯t ask if I could avoid it, but it has two beds, and there aren¡¯t a lot of options. If you¡¯re uncomfortable, I could see if-¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Cassidy cut Ethan off before he could keep working himself up about a non-issue. ¡°We¡¯re good. Would you mind putting the rental car in my name? I usually prefer driving to being the passenger.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sure, no problem.¡± Ethan was too busy being relieved she didn¡¯t care about the one room situation to be bothered by much else.


    Knowing that they were going to be away from home for a few days at least, both partners made sure to wrap up their necessary tasks by quitting time. As they headed for the door, Ethan hesitated a moment before deciding to get Cassidy¡¯s attention. ¡°Uhm, Investigator Caraway?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± she acknowledged, turning to give him her full attention. Her head tilted like a focused cat, and Ethan could swear her eyes shifted from more brownish to more blueish. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I do know,¡± Ethan confessed. He hoped his face didn¡¯t look as red as it felt hot, up to the tips of his ears. ¡°Why you might have hoped I didn¡¯t know much about you, I mean. But I requested the assignment. So please don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Her tone was surprised, and her posture became slightly defensive. ¡°Uhm. Okay. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ethan agreed, not sure what else to say. He didn¡¯t love the way the air had turned thick with tension, but he had no idea how to fix it. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have opened his mouth in the first place.


    They both went home.

 Chapter 2: Traveling

    When the crosswalk signal changed, Ethan took off at a sprint. Luckily, it was the last real obstacle between him and the train station. Unluckily, Ethan only had five minutes before the train was supposed to depart, and ten minutes left to the walk at a normal pace. He dodged through the crowd on the sidewalk, moving at his fastest speed. As he entered the front door of the train station, he heard the final call for boarding. He might still make it, but barely. Ethan wondered how many bad impressions he was going to give Cassidy.


    His stride didn¡¯t break with his negative thoughts. He kept running, and was relieved to see Cassidy standing just inside the door to one of the closer cars on the train they were supposed to be catching. She waved at him. ¡°Ethan! Over here! Hurry up!¡±


    Cassidy dodged out of the way as Ethan barreled into the train, just barely making it on board before the doors closed. She raised her left eyebrow at him. ¡°Cutting it a little close?¡±


    It took Ethan a moment to answer. Despite being in good shape, sprinting several blocks left him panting. Ethan took the excuse to observe his partner. Her eyes were closer to a honey brown today, with an edge of grey. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a spiky bun, and he couldn¡¯t help wondering if that was an intentional choice or not. She wore a similar blazer to the one she wore the day before, only in slate grey. She had swapped the sensible work pants for dark wash jeans. Her badge still dangled around her neck in front of a bright red t-shirt. She carried the same canvas bag she had the day before, so if she had any other luggage, she had stowed it before he arrived.


    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± Ethan said as soon as he caught his breath. ¡°I swear I planned to be here early.¡±


    The train started rolling, and while Ethan almost lost his footing for a moment, Cassidy bent her knees slightly and rolled with the train, keeping her balance with ease. ¡°Given that you beat me to the office yesterday, I believe you. Follow me. I grabbed us a couple of seats.¡±


    Ethan stowed his duffel bag in the overhead compartment next to a simple black backpack he assumed was Cassidy¡¯s. She waited for him to sit, giving him the window. They both watched the scenery roll by until they traded tall buildings for shrubbery, at which point Cassidy turned her attention to her partner. ¡°So, do you want to tell me what happened?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just some bad luck.¡± Ethan scratched the back of his neck. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks. ¡°This little old woman who lives across from me, Mrs. Sylvester, needed help taking her trash out.¡±


    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t say no.¡± Cassidy¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t incredulous, or vaguely mocking, which were both responses Ethan was used to getting. Instead, she sounded maybe almost fond or pleased. Ethan couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on what her tone conveyed. All he could tell was that it didn¡¯t make him feel bad.


    ¡°No,¡± he admitted, ¡°but I got a bag of the best cookies you will ever taste out of the deal, and I will share when we get to the inn.¡±


    ¡°Given that you made the train, I¡¯d say that¡¯s a fair deal.¡±


    The new partners lapsed into silence after that. When a few moments passed with no conversation, they both turned to their own forms of entertainment. Ethan pulled out his phone and clicked a few buttons, pulling up a larger holographic screen about the size of a paperback book. Cassidy went into her canvas bag and pulled out an old school paper sketchbook, a number two pencil, and a big white eraser. She opened to a blank page and, after glancing around the train, started on a new sketch.


    Ethan finished his chapter and clicked the lock screen button on the top of his phone, dispelling the hologram. He put his arms above his head and stretched. Then he glanced out the window, still processing the scene he just read. He glanced to the seat next to him, and noticed Cassidy drawing. For a moment, he was conflicted. He didn¡¯t want to look over her shoulder and spy. It was private. He was curious, though. Ethan looked very purposefully ahead. Then he looked out of the corner of his eye, not looking at the sketch itself, but at his partner. Cassidy¡¯s brow was furrowed in concentration, and her upper lip was on the receiving end of what seemed to be a pretty decent gnawing. The tip of her tongue just barely peeked out.


    When he gave into his curiosity, Ethan chose to be decent about it. ¡°Can I ask what you¡¯re drawing?¡±


    For a moment, Ethan wasn¡¯t sure Cassidy heard him. There was the slightest pause in the scratching of her pencil, a hesitation Ethan could tell himself was imagined, before her drawing continued undisturbed. It only lasted a few moments, though, punctuated by a quick scrub of an eraser. Cassidy looked up at Ethan. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes crinkled up at the corners. ¡°I asked what you were drawing.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Cassidy¡¯s cheeks dusted lightly pink, but that was the only hint that she might not be entirely comfortable with the line of questioning. Her expression remained carefully neutral. ¡°I¡¯m drawing that woman, four rows up on the left. The redhead.¡±


    ¡°Can I see?¡±


    For a moment, Cassidy hesitated in a real and noticeable way. Then, she passed the sketchbook over to Ethan. ¡°Sure. Just do me a favor and don¡¯t go flipping through.¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Ethan was mildly affronted by the implication that he might. Any indignation he felt, however, was quickly forgotten when he looked down at the paper in front of him. ¡°Oh. Oh, wow. This is really good.¡± The entirely greyscale picture, though somewhat simplified, was very recognizably the woman in the car. ¡°Did you take lessons?¡±


    ¡°No more than anyone else,¡± Cassidy told him, referring to basic art classes through grade school. ¡°It¡¯s just a hobby.¡±


    ¡°Well, you could¡¯ve fooled me.¡± He handed the sketchbook back to her with a smile that made the fluorescent lights in the train seem a little warmer. ¡°Thanks for showing me.¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Yeah, no problem.¡± Cassidy¡¯s returning smile was a little more brittle, but no less genuine. ¡°So, what are you reading?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± It was Ethan¡¯s turn to be embarrassed, but instead of being well-concealed, the expression could be read in every inch of him. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just some silly, light reading.¡±


    Cassidy¡¯s eyes practically glowed with interest, Ethan¡¯s body language far more intriguing than his spoken answer. ¡°What kind of silly, light reading?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a romcom,¡± Ethan admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Hey, do you want to play I Spy?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Cassidy agreed, letting him take the out, at least for the moment.


    The game kept them occupied for a while. The train was moving fast, so they had to keep their observations to objects and people inside of the train car. With two relatively detail-oriented people, they both managed to find small, barely noticeable objects others might not think to include in such a game, like an old man¡¯s pearl earring, or a barely-there coffee stain on the carpet near the exit to the car. Eventually though, even with their combined best efforts, the limited scope of their environment left them without any decent plays to make.


    ¡°Well, it was fun while it lasted,¡± Cassidy lamented briefly, before lighting up at the next idea. ¡°Want to play truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Truth or dare?¡± Ethan asked, a bit confused. ¡°Did I hear you right?¡±


    ¡°Seems like it.¡±


    ¡°Are we teenagers at a slumber party?¡±


    ¡°If those are the only people who are allowed to have fun, I say we pretend to be.¡±


    Ethan chuckled, much quieter than the booming laugh he had let out at work the previous day. It was less amused and more bemused. ¡°Sure. Why not? Truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Not so fast!¡± Cassidy kept her voice low, knowing better than to let anyone else in on the game. Still, her excitement was building. ¡°We have to set the stakes!¡±


    ¡°What stakes?¡± Ethan was already beginning to regret agreeing.


    ¡°The game ends when one of us refuses to answer a truth or perform a dare,¡± Cassidy answered confidently, with the energy of someone who had done this before and would do it again. ¡°The person who refuses loses. Loser buys the first meal on this trip.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t as bad as Ethan feared it might be. He would be happy to buy them both dinner that night even if he didn¡¯t lose a game, and having the out made the idea of it less intimidating. It could be a good icebreaker, help him get to know his new partner. ¡°Okay, deal. Truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Truth,¡± Cassidy decided.


    Over the next half-hour, things remained tame. They were learning the answers to questions that could have been gleaned over a peaceful dinner. Ethan¡¯s favorite color was yellow, while Cassidy¡¯s was a dark, almost black shade of red. Cassidy had one brother, older, while Ethan was a middle child sandwiched between two sisters. Cassidy had always wanted to be an investigator. Ethan had originally planned to be a pediatrician. The questions were all tame, but the game gave them an excuse to ask.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you suggested this,¡± Ethan admitted.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way.¡± Cassidy hoped Ethan hadn¡¯t learned her well enough yet on the train ride to notice how sly her smile became. ¡°Truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Truth.¡± So far, neither of them had picked dare.


    ¡°What¡¯s that book you¡¯re reading?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Ethan asked. He tried to play it off as boredom with the question, but he didn¡¯t have a great poker face in the first place and Cassidy had a sharp eye for people.


    They both knew he was embarrassed, and that made Cassidy want to know the answer even more. ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called Garlic Bites,¡± he admitted quietly, as if afraid to be overheard. ¡°It¡¯s a romantic comedy about a vampire who falls in love with the son of vampire hunters. Neither of them know he¡¯s the son of vampire hunters, and now they¡¯re both trying to survive meeting the family.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh, that sounds good.¡± Cassidy may have relished the fun of dragging the answer out of him, but she didn¡¯t actually want to embarrass him about his interests. ¡°I usually prefer mysteries or high fantasy, but maybe you can loan me that when you¡¯re done?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah, sure.¡± A teasing glint entered Ethan¡¯s eyes, and Cassidy was glad to see it. ¡°Mysteries, huh? You really did always want to be a detective.¡±


    ¡°My older brother used to read me Sherlock Holmes at bedtime when we were kids.¡±


    ¡°And that one didn¡¯t even cost me a question!¡±


    ¡°Speaking of, your turn.¡±


    ¡°Alright, truth or dare.¡±


    ¡°Dare,¡± Cassidy decided. She was a little bored now that her original objective was achieved, and she wanted to stretch her legs.


    Ethan took a moment to look around the train car, trying to think of something that would be interesting and challenge his partner without disturbing the other occupants of the car. ¡°Alright. I dare you to give that woman a few rows up the picture you drew of her earlier.¡±


    Cassidy¡¯s eyes widened, a combination of reluctance, shock, and a hint of annoyed admiration. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m very serious.¡± Ethan¡¯s smile was too wide and bright and boyscout-y for someone who had just asked her to do what he just asked her to do. ¡°I think you¡¯ll make her day. You¡¯re very good at drawing.¡±


    ¡°Trying to get back on my good side with compliments that work,¡± Cassidy grumbled, earning a slightly louder laugh than Ethan meant to let loose on the train.


    Cassidy dug out her sketch book. She took a deep breath before flipping to the appropriate page, carefully folding along the perforated edge and tearing it out. For a moment, Cassidy looked between the paper in her hands and the subject, comparing every line and shading choice. Cassidy had already gotten what she wanted out of this game, and she wasn¡¯t overly concerned about paying for dinner. If the drawing didn¡¯t meet her standards, she would fold. But, Cassidy had to admit, it wasn¡¯t bad. She stood up, squared her shoulders, and walked over to the woman.


    Ethan watched happily as Cassidy introduced herself, then held the drawing out to the other woman, who immediately lit up. ¡°Oh my goodness! That is so good!¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Cassidy¡¯s blush was deep. ¡°You can keep it, if you want.¡±


    ¡°Ohmygosh, are you sure? That is so nice! Thank you so much!¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡± Cassidy walked back over to her seat and dropped down, letting out a very big very held breath. ¡°Okay. Truth or dare.¡±


    ¡°Truth.¡± Ethan¡¯s answer did not change, even with Cassidy¡¯s petulant glare.


    ¡°Fine.¡± She took a moment, thinking. ¡°What¡¯s your secret talent?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Like, I draw. What¡¯s a thing that you do?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I crochet. I make my sisters stuffed animals for Christmas every year.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s really cool,¡± Cassidy complimented. ¡°Can I see a picture?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Ethan pulled out his phone and scrolled through the photo app for a while before showing Cassidy a picture of a crochet alligator next to a crochet butterfly.


    ¡°Those are amazing!¡±


    ¡°Thanks. They took hours. Truth or dare?¡±


    ¡°Truth.¡±


    ¡°So obviously you¡¯ve always been into the detective thing with the mysteries, but was there another reason you wanted to do what we do?¡±


    Immediately, Ethan knew he said something wrong. There was a change to the air, a tension. Cassidy kept smiling, but it stopped reaching her eyes. Her nose, which scrunched up when she smiled truly, tilted back down, and the little crinkles next to her eyes disappeared. ¡°Guess dinner¡¯s on me.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ethan really hadn¡¯t expected that to be the question that ended the game. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have-¡°


    Cassidy waved him off, though there was still tension in her shoulders. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. No way for you to know. That¡¯s why we have an out. Besides, the ride¡¯s not much longer, anyway. We should review our case notes before we get there.¡±


    Ethan at least pretended to work alongside his new partner, but her lack of response weighed on his mind for the rest of the ride.

 Chapter 3: Migraine at the Murder Scene

    For most of the train ride, followed by the drive, there hadn¡¯t been a noticeable difference between Virginia and New Hampshire. Maybe it was because the terrain shifted so slowly, from deciduous trees to pine. Maybe it was because, when you weren¡¯t particular about the trees, a forest was a forest. Whatever the reason, Cassidy wasn¡¯t struck by the change in scenery until they pulled up to the house where the tragedy took place. Suddenly, she felt like New Haven, the town they were visiting, had been pulled from the misty pages of books that told tales of witch trials and creatures in the forest. There was a light fog hovering over the grass, seemingly rolling from the tree line. The pine trees easily outnumbered the more familiar leafy ones, and their tops seemed sharper than normal, like knives pointing to the heavens. The sun was just beginning to set, tinting the scene an orangey-red. There was nothing particularly foreboding about the house. It was a one story ranch house. It had slate blue siding, two front windows with gently billowing white curtains, and an almost white front door with a little half-circle window. It was innocuous, sitting against the rustic backdrop. It gave Cassidy chills.


    Despite the sense of wrongness that settled like an uncomfortable blanket across the air, Cassidy parked the car. She had made a life and a career out of going towards things she knew it would be smarter to run fast and far away from. She looked over to her partner, ready to offer some reassurance, but he seemed fine. Somber, given where they were, but calm. Unafraid.


    When he felt her looking, Ethan turned toward her. He offered her a soft smile. He didn¡¯t seem happy, really, but he still gave off a certain warmth. ¡°Are you ok?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± Cassidy dismissed without giving it much through. She had learned the hard way not to cite the uncomfortable creepy crawly feeling she had as case relevant information. She stretched, the motion exaggerated. ¡°Just a long drive.¡±


    ¡°Well, I know you prefer to drive, but I¡¯d be happy to drive the rest of the way to the inn after this if you want.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Cassidy would be driving. ¡°Thanks. Let¡¯s rip the bandaid off and head in, if you¡¯re ready?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ethan agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The other car in the driveway, the one they assumed belonged to the sheriff, was empty. They headed up to the door and knocked.


    The man who opened the door was taller than Cassidy but shorter than Ethan. His blond hair was cropped close to his head, but a barely-there beard added an edge of gruff scruffiness to his appearance. His dull blue eyes narrowed at the investigators, an expression just shy of being a glare. He stared them down for a moment, thumbs hooked in the loops of dark uniform pants, before reaching out his hand to Ethan. ¡°Sheriff Adam Stern.¡±


    Ethan accepted the hand shake. Sheriff Stern squeezed his hand a little too hard to be called firm, and almost looked disappointed when Ethan didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Special Investigator Ethan Mercer.¡±


    Without an excuse to keep trying to crush Ethan¡¯s hand, Sheriff Stern put his thumbs back in his belt loop. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Cassidy stepped half in front of her partner and held her hand out as well. ¡°And I¡¯m Special Investigator Cassidy Caraway. I¡¯m the department¡¯s lead on this case.¡±


    Sheriff Stern took his time looking Cassidy up and down. Ethan started to frown, but Cassidy kept her expression blank and her arm level until the sheriff met her with a much more brief, less powerful handshake. ¡°If we¡¯re all done playing meet and greet, we¡¯ve got a crime scene on our hands here.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Cassidy agreed. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    The sheriff simply stepped aside, and Cassidy moved into the room, closely followed by Ethan. Those flowing white curtains didn¡¯t look nearly as pristine from the inside. Blood splatter nearly covered the curtain to the left of the door. The one to the right only had a few streaks, but it was no less marred. The curtains were nothing, however, compared to the tape outline where the body used to be. There was a puddle of blood on the floor at least four feet wide. Little chunks of what Ethan could identify as brain matter but Cassidy only knew as nameless, gut-churning gore were splattered near the tape outline of the head.


    ¡°That was the first body we found, but the girl told us it was the second killing,¡± Sheriff Stern supplied. ¡°First body was there.¡±


    He pointed, and Cassidy and Ethan¡¯s eyes followed. Thefront door had brought them into the family¡¯s living room, though they hadn¡¯t noticed at first past the scene they were met with, and the implied body that used to be. However, the open concept allowed them to see into the kitchen, where the second outline told a similar story.


    ¡°Little monster killed her mother first,¡± the sheriff explained. ¡°Took the axe from the woodpile out back and came in through the back door. Dad heard the screaming and came out to investigate. Mom was already dead by then, and she killed him too. Last body was her younger brother. He hid in his room, but she tracked him down all the same.¡±


    Cassidy and Ethan followed Sheriff Stern through the house. They went down the hall to the left, and into the last bedroom on the left. The window was open behind a desk, and the smallest outline was spread across it. The head of the outline was on the windowsill itself, and Ethan recognized more brain matter on the window. The kid had almost escaped, but almost didn¡¯t matter for anything.


    ¡°You¡¯re free to look around the place, but I don¡¯t know what more you think you might find,¡± Sheriff Stern told them. ¡°Pretty simple. Kid wasn¡¯t right, and the family paid the price. I think we coulda handled this one without any big government help, but what do I know?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, we¡¯ll take a look around since we¡¯re already out here.¡± Cassidy took the excuse of making eye contact with the sheriff to stop looking at the blood. ¡°Which room was the girl¡¯s room?¡±


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    ¡°It¡¯s not all the same to me, but I suppose I can¡¯t stop it,¡± Sheriff Stern grumbled. ¡°Across the hallway, door to the right. The other one is the master bedroom.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Cassidy left the room they were in and headed for the girl¡¯s room. According to the files they had received, there was no indication of anything wrong before the gruesome murder of a family, but Cassidy had a hard time believing that. With any luck, the girl was a journaler, and as someone who used to be a kid with experience hiding things from her parents, maybe Cassidy could find something the local investigators hadn¡¯t.


    The moment she turned the knob and pushed the door in, a shadow ran up her arm. There was nothing around that could have cast a shadow, but she knew she¡¯d seen it. Cassidy turned her arm to look, but she didn¡¯t see or feel anything else. She shook it off and kept moving into the room. The air had been charged with something from the moment they pulled into the driveway. Cassidy had noticed it when she parked, but she¡¯d chalked it up to nothing more than dramatic tension. It was something different, when Cassidy opened the door to the little girl¡¯s bedroom. It didn¡¯t look like something out of a horror novel. It looked like a very average little girl¡¯s bedroom with pink walls, glow in the dark stars glued to the ceiling, and a little desk. Excepting the knowledge of what the occupant of this room had recently done, there was nothing about it to make Cassidy¡¯s hair stand on end. Still, it stood.


    The desk was her first target. Cassidy walked over to it and took in the pictures scattered across the surface. Flowers. Unicorns. Fairies. Happy stick figure renditions of her family. Nothing on the surface to indicate any significant inner turmoil. Then again, these things often weren¡¯t on the surface. Cassidy reached for the top left drawer, and immediately pulled her arm back at the sensation that trailed up her arm. It was a shot of the pins-and-needles sensation that occurs when a part of you falls asleep, but much more concentrated. It went up her arm, to her shoulder, through her neck, and ended in her eyes. She staggered back from the desk and put her other hand over her eyes.


    When the pain subsided enough for Cassidy to try moving her hand away from her eyes, the world was wrong. All the colors she could see were muted, the pink of the walls dulled to an almost bland red. Sparkles of darkness crawled across her vision when she looked down at the desk again, almost seeming to concentrate on the face of the little girl in the stick figure drawings. When she moved her eyes again to the drawer, it somehow seemed darker than everything else in the room, flickering shadows notwithstanding.


    ¡°Fucking caffein,¡± Cassidy swore, reaching for the drawer again. The drink she picked up on their pitstop wasn¡¯t one she¡¯d had before, and clearly she hadn¡¯t read the label carefully enough. She had to get through a decent investigation before the migraine became unbearable.


    This time, Cassidy managed to find a small key hidden among the scattered markers and crayons. The shadows that speckled Cassidy¡¯s vision seemed to cling to the key for a moment before she shook her head to dispel them. Cassidy held onto the key as she looked around the room. A pulsing was starting behind her eyes. It seemed to spike when she looked at the closet, so she decided to start there. The right side of the closet was almost completely cloaked in shadows, real or imagined. Cassidy felt around the floor of that side of the closet on an impulse and pulled out a little locked diary. The key was a match.


    The pain in Cassidy¡¯s head spiked, and her vision almost completely blacked out. She sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. When she felt steady, she stood up, clutching her finds. This would have to be enough for the day. Cassidy hated to admit it, but she couldn¡¯t do much more.


    While she may have to admit her failings to herself, there was no way Cassidy was going to admit them to that sickeningly macho sheriff. She stood in the room with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, until she felt like she could fake her way out of the house. She walked out of the room to find Ethan in the living room, speaking to the sheriff with a strained expression. Cassidy felt a little more assured that Ethan at least genuinely tolerated her. The man had no poker face.


    Cassidy watched the pattern of the conversation, and when Sherif Stern paused whatever tirade was making Ethan look so bothered, she inserted herself into the conversation. ¡°I think we¡¯ve done all we can here.¡±


    ¡°I could¡¯ve told you that before you arrived,¡± Sherif Stern grumbled.


    Oh, Cassidy hoped her poker face was better than Ethan¡¯s, because she felt inappropriately smug as she held up the little journal. ¡°Well, I¡¯m hoping we¡¯ll get something new out of this. I¡¯m going to need time to review it tonight, though, and I¡¯d prefer to get to it sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Sherif Stern¡¯s face went carefully blank. ¡°Alright, then. Keep me informed.¡±


    Cassidy managed to keep it together until they reached the car. Then, she held the keys out to Ethan and covered her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to drive.¡±


    The irritation melted out of Ethan immediately, replaced by a concern that was far more natural to him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Are you ok?¡±


    ¡°Migraine,¡± Cassidy admitted. ¡°Must¡¯ve been caffein in my drink.¡±


    ¡°Ok, get in the car.¡± Ethan pursed his lips as he took the keys without comment. He hadn¡¯t gone to medical school for nothing, and he wanted to question Cassidy about what was wrong, if she¡¯d had migraines before, if she was going to be ok, but he knew better than to do so in the moment. Instead of helping Cassidy to her door like he wanted to, Ethan let himself fumble with the keys in the car door a bit, giving off a clumsy affectation that allowed him to wait and see that his partner made it safely into the car before he got in himself.


    Ethan drove in silence, though a few times he glanced at Cassidy out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting with her head resting against the window, and a hand over her eyes. Light sensitivity, then. It was interesting that the vibration of her skull against the car window wasn¡¯t enough to bother her. Perhaps the chill of it was worth the offset? Internally, Ethan shook his head at himself. It wasn¡¯t his job to diagnose his partner. Surely she¡¯d been to a doctor for this.


    That thought gave him enough pause to stick his nose in, just a little. ¡°Have you seen a doctor about this?¡±


    ¡°I have,¡± Cassidy confirmed. ¡°They recommended avoiding caffein as much as possible, laying down somewhere dark, taking pain pills if it gets to be too much, and waiting for it to go away.¡±


    ¡°Do you need pain pills now?¡± Ethan asked. ¡°I can stop and get some.¡±


    Cassidy gave a light shake of her head. Then, she realized her partner was still paying more visual attention to the road than he was to her. ¡°I¡¯m fine. The headache is usually mild. It¡¯s more the lights and things I see that are the problem.¡±


    Ethan pursed his lips, but said nothing. That sounded concerning to him, but if she had been to the doctor she had been to the doctor. Cassidy¡¯s medical concerns were already less his business than he had made them. Instead of interrogating her further, he focused on getting them to the inn they were staying at. He went in himself at first, despite mild token protests from his partner, carrying both of their bags and getting them checked in. A quick conversation with the innkeeper, and he¡¯d gotten the lights temporarily turned off to bring Cassidy to their room. He lead her in, then produced pain medicine from his own bag and put a glass of water on the table by her bed. ¡°Get some rest. I¡¯ll go over notes down in the lounge, try not to disturb you for a while.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Ethan beamed. ¡°Happy to help.¡±

 Chapter 4: The Pinedrive Inn

    Ethan ignored the pang of wrongness that took up residence in his stomach as he left Cassidy to the quiet and dark. Maybe they hadn¡¯t known each other very long yet, or very well, but from what he had seen so far Ethan liked Cassidy. Honestly, he was surprised at the people who had tried to warn him off when he first requested the assignment to be her partner. Sure, she might have been half a beat off from what most called normal (never in a million years did Ethan expect to play truth or dare again when he left middle school) but she was funny, and thoughtful, and had proved to be a good detective if her recovery of the girl¡¯s diary was anything to go by. After all, Ethan wasn¡¯t in the habit of looking down on local investigation agencies, and he got the impression that they had combed the house pretty well. Although, Ethan mused, maybe he could make an exception in this case and look down on local law enforcement a little bit, given how rude the sheriff had been.


    When he reached the lobby, he hovered for a moment. There was a metaphorical stack of files on his phone, but he didn¡¯t have a lot of work to do with them. He and Cassidy had spent the full day before their train ride going through files, and then part of the train ride itself reviewing files. He tugged on the hair at the back of his head and glanced back at the stairs. Maybe he should¡¯ve asked Cassidy for the diary, but he hadn¡¯t really been thinking about the case when he¡¯d brought her upstairs. He couldn¡¯t imagine going back up to disturb her and get the book. Anyway, he¡¯d only really left to give her the space to recover in the dark and quiet without worrying about having another person around. They wouldn¡¯t be able to get any more information until the morning. For the moment, Ethan supposed there was no real reason not to settle in with his book. He would give it a couple of hours, grab them something to eat, and hopefully by the time he came back Cassidy would be feeling better. If not, he would worry then.


    Despite his intentions, Ethan couldn¡¯t seem to get his eyes to stick on the words holographically projected before him. His mind was clouded, his inner vision disrupted by images from the crime scene earlier that day. Given his time as an emergency medical responder, Ethan wasn¡¯t exactly squeamish about gore, but there was something different about looking at the remains of a family and knowing exactly what happened. Of course, part of the problem was that everyone assumed they knew exactly what happened. A little girl who, as far as anyone could tell based on the information they¡¯d gotten their hands on, showed no previous indications something may be wrong had killed her family. It was understandable why no one truly wanted to understand, but ultimately unacceptable.


    Dwelling on it would get him nowhere for the evening. Ethan clicked off his book and put his phone back in his pocket. The attempt at a mental distraction clearly wasn¡¯t working. A physical one might do the trick, or so he told himself. Ethan stood slowly, paying attention to the roll of his muscles under his skin as he did so. Just as slowly, he reached his arms above his head as high as he could, and raised himself on his toes. He took a slow, deep breath and appreciated the way the evening sunlight filtered through the window and dusted his cheeks, even as the sun itself started to dip below the horizon. He lacked the effortless grace he¡¯d noticed in his new partner, but physical careers had lead him to cultivate an intentional awareness of his own body to make up for his natural lack of coordination.


    As he fell back down onto his heels, the spell was broken, but Ethan felt a little more present and a little more sure of himself. Of course, with his mind clear, it couldn¡¯t help but find other places to wander. Being a Special Investigator may have been a diversion from Ethan¡¯s original career path, but scientists and investigators shared the key trait of a busy and inquisitive mind. He wouldn¡¯t have found much success on either path without one, and his brain decided to skip over Cassidy¡¯s lukewarm response when Ethan had asked about her interest in their shared profession. Once again though, Ethan mused, her business was none of his business, for all that he wanted to change that.


    The only way to achieve that goal, Ethan scolded himself firmly, was to stop obsessing and start giving Cassidy reasons to consider Ethan a friend. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d done a bad job of that so far, having her back with the jerk of a sheriff and helping with her migraine. Still, his mother would tell him there was always something more he could do to be friendly to those he wanted to call his friends. Cassidy was supposed to buy them dinner that night, but there was always tomorrow, and with her under the weather, Ethan wanted to take care of it. He made his way over to the desk, intent on asking the innkeeper about what dining options she would recommend.


    It was a cozy place they were staying at. In his haste to get the lights turned off and get Cassidy settled in, he hadn¡¯t taken the time to notice anything about the place. Now, though, Ethan wasn¡¯t in a rush. The longer he took, the more time Cassidy had to recover in peace. So far, Ethan had noted that the inn, The Pinedrive Inn as it was called, was a cozy little place with two floors. He had counted five doors when he was upstairs, and knew at least one of them was a bathroom. Their room had an attached bathroom, but the shower was a shared amenity. Ethan hoped the bathroom situation wasn¡¯t going to be too difficult, knowing the inn was at full capacity.


    The majority of the inn was exposed wood. Overall, it had a log cabin feel, with a large fireplace in the lounge surrounded by large, squishy couches. The woman behind the checkin desk waved at him enthusiastically the moment Ethan came into sight. It was a different woman than the one who had checked him in in the first place. That woman, who had introduced herself as Robin, had been a bit taller than his partner, and about as broad. Her medium brown hair, just beginning to streak with grey, had been slashed at her chin. She¡¯d been dressed in a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up, medium blue jeans, and sensible boots. Her manner had been brisk and businesslike, but not unkind.


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    The woman behind the counter now was not particularly short, but had a petit stature overall. Her limbs were willowy, long and thin. Her large, toothy smile lit up the room so thoroughly Ethan suddenly wondered if he was experiencing light sensitivity issues. Long wavy hair that was either white, or so blonde it nearly appeared white, spiraled down to her elbows in loose curls. She wore sunny yellow overalls over a cream colored t-shirt. Her blue eyes sparkled like the ocean at noon on a summer¡¯s day. She looked more like she belonged in a kindergarten classroom, or maybe a high school art classroom, than behind the desk she currently occupied.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± she greeted in a high but smooth voice when Ethan responded to her summons. ¡°Robin got you all checked in and settled earlier, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Ethan agreed readily.


    ¡°Oh, good!¡± she praised before Ethan had a chance to even consider continuing to speak. ¡°My Robin can come off a little gruff to some folks, but she¡¯s got a good head on her shoulders and an even better heart.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Ethan agreed again.


    ¡°My name is Stella, by the way. Robin told me the woman you came in with wasn¡¯t feeling too great. Migraine, was it? Is she feeling any better now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, it was,¡± Ethan confirmed. Stella¡¯s relentless stream of questions allowed Ethan to keep talking this time. ¡°I think she¡¯s doing a bit better, I¡¯m glad to say. I¡¯ve left her alone to rest for now. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll get better with quiet.¡±


    ¡°Of course, that¡¯s very sensible,¡± Stella praised, ¡°and she can expect plenty of quiet here. We do have a full house right now, but no one here at the moment is particularly loud. The Stevensons come up every year around this time for their anniversary. They like to bird watch together; apparently they met on some bird watching tour early in their retirements, both grieving widows. Such a sad but sweet story, the two of them finding solace in each other. Then there¡¯s Mr. Ravenwood. A bit tight-lipped, that one, but perfectly respectable. I get the impression he comes here mostly for the solitude. I assume he¡¯s a creative of some sort, and this is a place he comes to make a final push on his projects. Rather exciting when you think of it! And then there¡¯s Laura and Bradley. He¡¯s the college boyfriend, up with her visiting her parents at the moment. My understanding is that Laura had some big tiff with her mother over whether or not her and her boyfriend could sleep in the same bed under her parents¡¯ roof, and the kids ended up staying here rather than with the parents. I doubt that¡¯s a hill Mom will choose to die on in the future, but who¡¯s to say? And then, of course, there¡¯s the two of you. I apologize we couldn¡¯t get you a room with one bed. The other two couples snapped those up first. You and your partner are welcome to move things around so you can push the beds together, if you like. Robin and I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Ethan went uncomfortably hot, from his chest up to the tips of his ears. ¡°We¡¯re not partners! I mean¡­ I guess we are partners. Work partners! We¡¯re work partners. Nothing romantic happening there. Nothing at all. We would¡¯ve taken to rooms if we could.¡±


    Stella leaned forward on the desk, braced against her forearms. There was an almost predatory glint in her eye, even as the rest of her demeanor remained friendly and inviting. ¡°Nothing romantic is happening there at the moment. But you¡¯d like something to happen?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Ethan denied immediately, without giving the question any consideration. It wasn¡¯t a question that deserved consideration. ¡°She¡¯s good at what we do. I¡¯m lucky to be her partner. I hope I¡¯ll be lucky to be her friend.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you as red as our skyline in autumn?¡± Stella asked, the corner of her mouth pulling up with a teasing air.


    Ethan just stared at the woman, fairly gobsmacked.


    Apparently taking some form of pity on him, Stella waved Ethan off. ¡°Just something for you to think about. So, what is it you and your partner do that you think she¡¯s so good at?¡±


    Despite mild relief at the change in the conversation, Ethan stayed frozen. He supposed there was no real reason not to tell Stella they were federal investigators. It wasn¡¯t a secret, and there was no suspect at large they needed to try to catch. Still, the torrent of information Stella had freely shared about the other guests made Ethan feel reluctant to share anything about himself or Cassidy.


    ¡°Are you bothering him, Els?¡± Ethan was relieved to see Robin standing in the doorway, holding a bundle of firewood.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Stella answered cheerfully. ¡°We were just having a little chat, weren¡¯t we, hon?¡±


    ¡°Of course, no bother at all,¡± Ethan agreed, despite the stress their ¡°little chat¡± had caused him. After all, now that he was off the hook, there was no reason to stir up trouble.


    ¡°Mmmhmm, sure,¡± Robin answered, but her tone was skeptical. She made a brief detour into the lounge to drop the firewood in its place, but she returned in short order. ¡°A likely story.¡±


    ¡°Miss Stella was just giving me the lay of the land,¡± Ethan defended diplomatically. ¡°I was actually hoping to get a recommendation for dinner?¡±


    Robin came around the desk and stood next to Stella, leaning into the other woman¡¯s space. Stella gravitated toward Robin, and they ended up with their arms pressed together, Stella¡¯s head resting on Robin¡¯s shoulder. Robin was the one who answered. ¡°What kind of grub are you in the mood for?¡±


    ¡°Something simple,¡± Ethan decided. At this point he didn¡¯t really know what Cassidy preferred, so it was probably a good idea to stick to the basics. ¡°A pizza place or a burger joint would be great.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d recommend the pizza,¡± Stella told him decisively. ¡°There¡¯s two pizza places in driving distance, in opposite directions. They¡¯re both alright, I suppose. Tony¡¯s is to the left. They¡¯ve got a lot of interesting topping choices, but their crust is thinner and they go a little light on the sauce for my tastes. Giovanni¡¯s, to the right, gives you a good bite of dough and plenty of sauce. They¡¯ve got all the classic toppings, but they¡¯re willing to work with you if you know what you want and you¡¯re nice about it. When Robin was pregnant with our oldest, she had all sorts of cravings, Giovanni¡¯s-¡°


    ¡°Alright, Els, I¡¯m sure our guest doesn¡¯t need to hear about all that.¡± The arm Robin wrapped around her wife and the kiss placed on Stella¡¯s temple took any real bite out of the mild scolding. ¡°Is there anything else we can do for you tonight, sir?¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯ve both been more than helpful. Thank you for your time.¡±


    The women nodded, and Ethan headed out the door as they began closing down the desk for the day. As he got in the car, he couldn¡¯t resist the urge to check the label on Cassidy¡¯s drink. There wasn¡¯t any caffein in it.

 Chapter 5: The Diary

    Cassidy was well aware that she should close her eyes, lay down, and wait for the migraine to pass. Anything else she might do was only likely to exacerbate and prolong her pain. As soon as Ethan left the room, she laid down in the bed further from the door where he¡¯d sat her and closed her eyes. And kept her eyes closed. And kept her eye closed. And kept her eyes closed¡­


    Fuck this. Cassidy was convinced that the deafening sounds of silence and her own mind would be much worse for her migraine than anything she could come up with to do in a mostly dark room. Anything with a screen was unfortunately out, and most things had screens these days. Still, Cassidy couldn¡¯t deny that despite the blue light filters than came standard in almost all devices, the concentrated light from the screen would make things worse. She used her phone only long enough to set up a nightlight app that projected a glowing holographic ball over the device. She set the light soft and low and placed it on the bedside table.


    For a while, she tried to sketch. That was usually what she did when she couldn¡¯t sleep for one reason or another. Still, she was never thrilled with how the drawings she did in the dim lighting conditions she set for herself came out. The details were always off. That was why she mostly stuck to sketches at times like this, and insisted to herself that they didn¡¯t have to be her finest works. As time went on, however, it became clear to Cassidy that her mind was on one subject in particular. She sketched the crime scene. She sketched the desk where she¡¯d found the key. The closet where she¡¯d found the diary. Despite the point of the sketches being relatively low-pressure creativity time, she found herself entranced by trying to recreate the strange distortions that had appeared in her vision. Normally, when her migraines affected her vision, she saw flashes of light and color. Sometimes, she experienced blind spots. What she had seen this time though, areas where the world seemed completely leeched of light, were the opposite of what she was used to. Cassidy couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something wasn¡¯t normal. That something was wrong.


    Her head didn¡¯t hurt that badly anyway. It was the visual distortion that got to her more than the pain. At least, that was the rationale Cassidy gave herself as she discarded her sketchbook, turned her light up a few notches to just barely tolerable, and pulled out the diary. It appeared, at first, to be a perfectly normal little girl¡¯s diary. It was pink and covered in fake fur, and it had a squish to it not unlike a stuffed animal. The tiny padlock on the side of the diary was something Cassidy could¡¯ve easily broken. Still, she was glad to have the key. Cassidy wasn¡¯t sure that this was something that would ever make its way back to the murderous girl (though ultimately that would be up to a state appointed therapist), but it still seemed wrong to break it.


    What seemed more wrong was the strange sensation that started to leech into Cassidy¡¯s eyeballs. It was a heaviness at first. A strange tugging. It was a sensation that felt like it should come from her eyelids, but was instead focused in the whites of her eyes. As this sensation intensified, the edges of the journal blurred. The little padlock that Cassidy had classified as fundamentally penetrable seemed to become something else. It was a shadow. It was invisible. It was a fortress. It seemed to beg Cassidy to take up the key.


    There was no real reason, to Cassidy¡¯s mind, not to. It was what she had set out to do, after all. She ignored the shadows that seemed to cling, an annoying aftereffect of unintentional caffein intake, and opened the little diary. For pages and pages, it was utterly normal. The girl¡¯s name was Miley. Miley had many plans for herself. She was determined that, by the end of the year, she would catch herself a unicorn. Or maybe a dragon. Or, perhaps, she would catch both and then find a way to make a dragocorn. Miley had a crush, for a few weeks, on a little boy in her class named John. Her affections, however, were fickle, as were the affections of most children her age. A few pages later, Miley was infatuated with a little girl named Amy. She was going to be a pirate, or a princess, or a veterinarian. Maybe all three. These pages were utterly, completely normal. There was no hint in them of the tragedy that was slowly stalking her family, even then, Cassidy was somehow sure.


    Cassidy turned a page and flinched. Quick as a flash in her minds eye, there was an image of the closet and the sound of a scraping, eerie laugh. There was nothing strange about the page, other than that Miley was less verbose than she had been. Little Miley was clearly an avid journaler, committing pages and pages of her thoughts at the end of each day. This page was a brief, concise summary. While there were longer entries still, more and more of the journal entries were quick and concise. They had less of fantasy and more of reality to them, until, for a good while, they were nothing at all.


    Again, Cassidy turned the page. Again, a strange image. Miley¡¯s bedroom completely devoid of color, painted in hypnotic greyscale. The childish scrawl described, in clipped tones, nightmares of nothingness. It was like Miley was sleeping without dreams. But, despite the lack of dreams, she was aware of herself, aware of being somewhere that was nowhere. She experienced periods of blackness with no real sense of time. In those dreams, Miley feared she was nothing.


    Time jumped in the journal again, another month passing between the dates on one page and the next. With the turned page, Cassidy saw another flash. This flash was longer, more complex. A feeling of fear, like there was something under her bed right there in the inn, a sensation Cassidy hadn¡¯t had since she was a young girl and discovered better things to fear than the idea of typical childhood monsters. An echoing laugh, and white eyes in the nothingness. It wasn¡¯t clear from the descriptions in Miley¡¯s journal where the line was between dream and reality, and it wasn¡¯t clear if Miley perceived this change as an improvement from the nothingness she had experienced before, or something much much worse.


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    Cassidy stopped perceiving the journal altogether. The pages meant nothing between her fingers. She felt Miley¡¯s pain, and her fear. It wasn¡¯t clear if Miley was afraid of something else, or afraid of herself. Sometimes, the thing she was afraid of seemed to be in her closet, and sometimes it seemed to be under her bed. Daddy said there was no such thing as monsters. Momma said the monsters were no match for her anyway. When her baby brother started imagining monsters in his own room, her parents¡¯ patience thinned, which Miley didn¡¯t think was very fair. She was scared. She was sorry if it made Adam scared too. She didn¡¯t want her baby brother to be scared. But it didn¡¯t mean Miley should stop having to be scared altogether.


    Miley was getting more and more tired. She tried not to sleep any more, even when Momma read her a story and Daddy made her warm milk. Her dreams seemed wrong. They seemed real. Sometimes she saw things from her dreams when she was awake, like the white eyes peering at her from her closet, or under her bed, out the window, really anywhere that gathered shadows. Sometimes, the color started to run away. Just out of one or two little things. Daddy would pour cereal in her favorite pink bowl, and she would watch it turn light grey. Her orange juice was a dark grey, almost black. The colors from the rest of the world suddenly seemed too bright. It made her feel nauseous, and she pushed her breakfast away.


    School was getting harder too. Miley was still doing well. She made sure she still got good grades, so she didn¡¯t think anyone really noticed, but she was tired all the time from trying not to sleep. Her parents kept saying she needed to sleep, and at this point she really understood why, but she just couldn¡¯t. Sleep was making it worse. The more she slept, the more Miley felt like the color was going to go away. Eventually, she feared that black nothingness from her dreams would become her life.


    At school that day, Miley fell asleep. She knew she fell asleep at her desk in history. History was Miley¡¯s least favorite subject. Her teacher was really boring about it, and they were learning about the American Revolution which seemed to be the only thing they were allowed to tell you about in history class, and she was so tired. She fell asleep at her desk. She knew she did. And then she spent some time in the dark place. And when she came back, she was in the bathroom with the school nurse leaning over her and telling her everything was going to be fine. When they called her mother to come get her, Momma told them she hadn¡¯t eaten that morning, and hadn¡¯t been sleeping well, and Momma should¡¯ve realized Miley was sick.


    Miley wasn¡¯t sick, but something was very wrong with her. Somehow she knew that whatever it was, she wasn¡¯t going to be able to fight it anymore. Her parents insisted when she got home that she should go straight to bed. Miley made a quick stop at her journal. She wanted to write a lot, like she used to, but the words wouldn¡¯t come anymore. Something she used to be, she wasn¡¯t any longer. All she could manage was, ¡°I give up. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Then she changed into her pajamas, slipped under the covers, and let herself become nothing.


    A gentle touch to her shoulder and a soft, deep voice woke her up. Cassidy jumped, surprised for a moment to be herself. She followed the hand on her shoulder up to the warm, concerned grey eyes of her partner. The color made her flinch. For a moment, she was reminded of how the color had leeched out of Miley¡¯s world, and felt like something else should show in Ethan¡¯s irises. But no, her partner had always had those soft moonbeam eyes that turned down with a frown at her flinch. He took his hand off her shoulder and took a step back. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, fine,¡± Cassidy told him, making an attempt at a reassuring smile. ¡°Weird dream, sorry.¡±


    Ethan waved her off easily. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if I should wake you, but it¡¯s been a couple hours and I thought you might want some food.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no, good choice. I¡¯m starving. What do you want for dinner?¡± Cassidy stretched, feeling the ache in her limbs, coming back to herself. The journal she had apparently fallen asleep reading fell off her chest.


    ¡°Little bit of light reading to get to bed?¡± Ethan sounded like he was trying for joking disapproval with a hint of honest disapproval, but all he could manage was concern.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve never been the best at sleeping it off,¡± Cassidy admitted, ¡°but apparently sleep caught up with me.¡±


    ¡°I brought us pizza,¡± Ethan told her, gesturing to the box on the little table.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± Cassidy put the journal on the table between their beds and joined him regardless of the protest. ¡°Dinner was supposed to be on me.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t feeling well.¡± Ethan smiled as Cassidy sat across from him, handing her a napkin. ¡°You can get dinner tomorrow, and I don¡¯t think it will make a difference.¡±


    ¡°Alright, thanks.¡±


    The partners ate in relative silence, though occasional bits of polite conversation drifted through the room. Ethan was still worried about Cassidy, and didn¡¯t want to ask too much of her in the wake of her migraine. Cassidy¡¯s mind was still turning over what she had seen in, apparently, her dream. It had seemed to vivid, too real, even for a dream influenced by the words she¡¯d read. Ethan gave Cassidy the first shot at the bathroom to get ready for bed. After, while he was taking his turn, she acted on a strange, churning feeling in her gut and picked up the journal. Based on how the journal had been sitting when she¡¯d woken up, Cassidy had only been about three quarters of the way through. There was no reason she should know what was written on the last page. That was the page she opened it to.


    There it was, in the childish scrawl Cassidy had become so familiar with, had seemed to watch flow from her own hand in her dream: I give up. I¡¯m sorry.

 Chapter 6: Miley Ross

    Cassidy headed downstairs with a quick glance at her phone. They had an hour and a half until they were due to meet the social worker, who would then accompany them to meet Miley Ross. The morning had seemed to drag into existence. Cassidy, usually the kind to wake up and be awake immediately, had clawed herself uncomfortably from a strange dream she only remembered in fragments now. However, if the morning dragged for Cassidy, it all but screeched to a halt for Ethan. It was a little bit funny, though Cassidy would keep that thought to herself, that the bright and high-energy man she had gotten to know so far started the day with none of that energy whatsoever. The police station where they were meeting the social worker was about a twenty minute drive from where they were staying, so she could afford to give Ethan a little bit of time to bring himself to life.


    ¡°Interested in breakfast?¡± Stella invited as Cassidy reached the common areas downstairs.


    ¡°Thanks, that¡¯s nice of you. My name¡¯s Cassidy.¡±


    ¡°Stella,¡± Stella responded with a bright smile. ¡°I run the inn with my wife, Robin. Her project, really, but I¡¯m happy as long as she¡¯s here. Glad to see you up and about! We were worried about you last night.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no need to worry about me,¡± Cassidy assured Stella, though Cassidy¡¯s posture became a little rigid at the reminder. ¡°Just a little headache.¡±


    ¡°Little sounds like an understatement, but no need to worry about that now.¡± Stella gestured at the spread already laid out on the table. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to anything you see here, but Robin is going to stay in the kitchen for the next half hour if anything specific takes your fancy, like an omelette. Robin makes the best omelettes.¡±


    Cassidy moved to check out the assortment. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve got enough time for an omelette this morning, but thank you. I¡¯ll keep that in mind for another day.¡± This morning, Cassidy settled on a pre-made cinnamon roll and some fruit.


    ¡°Of course! Just make sure you leave time at least one morning,¡± Stella advised. ¡°Robin¡¯s cooking is worth not missing. Now, where are you and that dashing partner of yours off to today?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just a meeting for work,¡± Cassidy answered, friendly but vague.


    ¡°And what kind of work was it you did again?¡± Stella wheedled.


    ¡°We¡¯re federal investigators,¡± Cassidy answered easily. She felt transparency in their profession was important, and she had no real reason not to disclose the information in the context of the current investigation.


    Stella¡¯s eyes lit with an intense interest that made Cassidy almost regret the honest answer. ¡°And what are you investigating?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s private information, for the benefit of those involved in the case. We¡¯re not permitted to speak openly about an ongoing investigation.¡±


    ¡°You must be here about the little Ross girl.¡± The brightness in Stella¡¯s eyes faded as she thought about the massacre. ¡°That was such a tragedy.¡±


    Cassidy stayed silent, taking a few bites of her breakfast, hoping that if Stella had more information she would feel compelled to fill the stale air with it.


    Stella never needed to be compelled to fill a silence. ¡°Of course, I can¡¯t claim to know the family personally. It¡¯s a small community, but they¡¯re a couple towns over and it¡¯s not quite that small. Watched a news vid about it though. Nice girl as far as anyone can tell, and then boom, just lost it. Suppose there must be something behind it, but then that¡¯s what you¡¯re here for, isn¡¯t it? Gosh, there¡¯s no happy ending here, though. The family¡¯s dead, and either that girl will never care, or she¡¯ll have to live with what she did when she comes to her senses. I¡¯m not quite sure which is worse¡­¡±


    Cassidy watched as Stella wilted like a sunflower pulled from all light with the retelling of a story that was not her own, as though she felt it to the core of herself. Cassidy reached out and put one hand on Stella¡¯s. Stella rose from the darkness she had talked herself into and smiled at Cassidy. ¡°We can¡¯t bring her family back, and that tragedy will always carry a weight. But there are people here to help her, whatever the reasons for this may be.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Stella stood and brushed her hands down the front of her overalls, pink with a yellow shirt underneath today, as though she could brush the negativity of the conversation away like a bit of dust. ¡°Anything else I can help you with this morning, dear?¡±


    ¡°Do you have tea? Cinnamon apple, maybe?¡±


    The smile Stella gave then was bright and unencumbered. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can scare up.¡±


    Not long after Cassidy received her tea, Ethan emerged from their room upstairs. Cassidy glanced at her watch as he walked down. She was just finishing her breakfast, and he had about ten minutes to fit whatever he could in.


    ¡°Good morning, Stella,¡± Ethan greeted happily, matching the woman for sunshine. It was miraculous to Cassidy that he had been a practical zombie less than half an hour ago. If they hadn¡¯t shared a room, she would mistake her partner for a morning person.


    ¡°Good morning, Ethan,¡± Stella greeted back. ¡°Can I suggest one of Robin¡¯s omelettes? They¡¯re to die for¡­¡±


    The conversation carried on until the time Ethan had for breakfast was all but up. Based on the fumbling, blushing, and hair fluffing she observed, Cassidy deduced that Ethan was having much the same problem he described having with his neighbor; he couldn¡¯t come up with a polite way to interrupt Stella¡¯s gushing about her wife, and couldn¡¯t bring himself to risk being impolite. With about five minutes left before they had to leave, Cassidy decided to come to his rescue.


    She pulled the attention of their host with a barely-there brush of fingers on Stella¡¯s arm. ¡°Excuse me? I¡¯m so sorry to interrupt, but Ethan and I have to get going. Ethan, do you want to grab some breakfast for the road?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, of course!¡± Ethan sent Cassidy a grateful smile and headed over to the spread. He grabbed a strawberry danish wrapped in a napkin and coffee in a too-small paper to-go cup before joining Cassidy. ¡°Have a good day, Stella!¡±


    As they got in the car, Cassidy glared at the can of yesterday¡¯s apparently caffeinated beverage before throwing it in the back to make room for the morning¡¯s drinks. Ethan frowned. ¡°Are you feeling better today? You sure you¡¯re alright to drive?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m fine!¡± Cassidy shot Ethan a crooked grin that was all teeth but failed to reach her eyes as she turned the key in the ignition. She really fucking wanted everyone to forget about the stupid headache. ¡°Really, I slept it off. Nothing to worry about.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡±


    The rest of the ride was silent. Ethan was focused on eating his breakfast and ingesting enough coffee to be more convincingly awake by the time they reached the police station. He was pulling at the last dregs of his coffee, as though tipping the cup back again would magically make more appear, as they pulled into the parking lot.


    The building they found themselves in front of was small. Dirty grey bricks stood out against the vivid brown and green outlines of the pine trees that circled everything in this county. It was L-shaped, and sat awkwardly against the landscape. It was probably only roughly twice the size of the ranch house the murders they were there to investigate took place in. A sign above the blue door, set into the end of the inside of the right side of the L, declared the building to be the New Haven Investigative Department. If Cassidy or Ethan walked around the back of the building, nearer the shelter of the edge of the forest, they would have seen blood-red graffiti labeling the department ¡°REBRANDED PIGS¡±. By the end of the day, the custodian would wash it off. The words, or some variation, would be back again by the end of the week.


    Instead of walking around the building, Cassidy and Ethan walked to the door. They entered into a grudgingly welcoming lobby. There was a rectangle of glass to the left of the inner door, revealing a man in uniform who looked at least mildly disgruntled to be there. There were some not uncomfortable chairs arranged around the small square room. End tables scattered with magazines stood next to them. One table had a small vase with a single, slightly wilted flower in it. One poster was tacked on the inner wall, on the side of the door opposite the glass, with a kitten clinging to a tree. The poster read, ¡°Hang in there! Help is on the way!¡± These efforts to brighten up the space were undermined by the musty yellow light of the flickering fluorescent overhead, but not completely. The overall effect was a space that was not quite as uncomfortable as it could have been.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    A woman was sitting in the corner chair underneath the poster reading a magazine, but she put it aside when Cassidy and Ethan walked in. She stood from the chair, revealing in the action that she was only a few inches shorter than Cassidy, though her form was more slender and petit, and her face more angular. She was dressed in a sky blue blazer and knee-length skirt, and her black heels clicked primly against the floor.She smiled as she turned saw them, and the warmth of that smile balanced out the sharp professionalism of her outfit. Her inky black, shoulder length coils bounced with her movement as she stepped forward to greet them.


    She reached out to shake hands with first Cassidy, then Ethan, treating them both to a firm but gentle grip. ¡°Good morning! My name is Simone Wheeler. I¡¯m Miley¡¯s social worker.¡±


    ¡°Good morning. I¡¯m Special Investigator Cassidy Caraway, and this is my partner, Special Investigator Ethan Mercer,¡± Cassidy responded. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you too, though I wish it were under better circumstances.¡± Simone shook her head, and her expression turned both sad and bewildered. ¡°I just don¡¯t know what to do for that poor child.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully we can help with that,¡± Ethan told her, smiling sadly. ¡°Investigator Caraway found Miley¡¯s diary last night, so hopefully when we¡¯ve gone through that it will give us some idea. And -¡°


    The inner door opened, and Sheriff Stern leaned half way out into the reception area with them. ¡°If the ladies are done chatting, we¡¯ve got the girl waiting in the box.¡±


    Simone¡¯s eyes flashed with something dangerous as she wheeled around the face the sheriff. ¡°Is she in there alone, or did her lawyer show up?¡±


    ¡°No difference between her waiting in the cell and her waiting-¡°


    ¡°There is a huge difference,¡± Simone pointed out, already marching past him and into the police station. Cassidy and Ethan followed quickly behind Sheriff Stern, barely catching the door before it swung shut on him. ¡°That girl is an eight-year-old child with no legal guardian. Either myself or her lawyer must be present for her to be moved into an interview room. That she¡¯s been in there alone for Lord knows how long is¡­ unthinkable. You¡¯d best believe I¡¯ll be filing a complaint about this.¡±


    ¡°Feds are already here, complain away,¡± Sheriff Stern answered, gesturing at Cassidy and Ethan with a grand sweep of his arm. By then, however, Simone was ignoring him as she entered the interview room with Miley and shut the door behind herself with a soft click. Through the window, Ethan watched as the anger melted away from Simone the moment she entered Miley¡¯s presence, replaced instead with false pep and very real sympathy.


    Cassidy, however, turned her attention to Sheriff Stern. Sure, local complaints like this weren¡¯t her specific department, but she was more than happy to back up any complaint Simone wanted to make about this man. She already hadn¡¯t liked him yesterday, and he certainly hadn¡¯t done himself any favors this morning as far as Cassidy was concerned. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve taken note.¡±


    Slowly, Sheriff Stern¡¯s face went from light beige to pink to red. Ethan turned from the scene in the interrogation room to the scene between the sheriff and his partner. However, before things could escalate further, another person joined the group, and the distraction allowed Sheriff Stern to let out his held breath in a huff and turn away from the situation.


    Standing with them now was the most tired looking man Cassidy had ever seen. The bags under his eyes were darker than a moonless night in winter. He held a briefcase in one hand, and a coffee that didn¡¯t seem to be doing much for him in the other. His red tie wasn¡¯t tightened to the collar of his white shirt, his salt-and-pepper hair was looking a bit lank and disheveled, and deep, bright blue eyes were glazed over with fatigue. ¡°I apologize for my tardiness. The public defender¡¯s office for the county is a bit understaffed at the moment, and some things ran over.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Bob,¡± Sheriff Stern answered, looking away awkwardly. ¡°Uh, these are the feds, Ethan Mercer and Cassidy Caraway. Simone¡¯s in the box with the girl.¡±


    Bob nodded to all the information he had been given and headed into the room himself. It only took a moment for Simone to pop her head out and smile at Cassidy and Ethan, pointedly ignoring the sheriff. ¡°Investigator Caraway, Investigator Mercer, we¡¯re ready for you now.¡±


    Bob entered first, followed by Ethan. Cassidy took an extra half-second to glare at Sheriff Stern before she joined the others. Bob went to sit on the other side of the table opposite the door, taking the other seat next to Miley so that the girl was bracketed by both of the people assigned to be her defenders. Ethan sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table furthest from the door and hunched his shoulders in a little bit, sending a soft smile to the girl. Through all of this, Miley continued to stare at the table top and ignore everything going on around her. When Cassidy entered the room, however, her world seemed to shift. Miley¡¯s head shot up in Cassidy¡¯s direction.


    Cassidy froze. For a moment, she didn¡¯t think she saw a child in that seat. The general size and shape was right, and if asked Cassidy wouldn¡¯t be able to say what was wrong, but without a doubt it was something. Her gut lurched, and the second Miley made eye contact with her, pain seared behind Cassidy¡¯s eyes. The little girl smiled, and maybe her canines extended a little too far, but maybe it was a trick of the agony that ripped through Cassidy¡¯s mind, more intense than any migraine she had experienced up to this point.


    As soon as it started, it was gone. Miley was staring down at the table, and everyone else was acting like nothing happened. Maybe nothing did. Cassidy couldn¡¯t even be sure if the girl had ever lifted her head from the table. The soft throbbing in the whites of her eyes was the only indication, and it seemed a lot more plausible to think that this was a holdover from the previous day¡¯s migraine, brought on by the stress of their interaction with Sheriff Stern, than it was to think this girl had grinned her into a headache. Cassidy dismissed the strange experience and sat down next to Ethan.


    ¡°Thank you both for coming,¡± Bob greeted, looking a little more together now that he was sitting next to his client. His shoulders were back, and his back straighter. There was nothing he could do for the bags under his eyes, but they looked clearer, and the loose strands of his hair had been smoothed back into place. ¡°Simone, Miley, and I have talked, and it seems to make sense to us for her to confess. There¡¯s no available alternative to Miley¡¯s guilt, and the forensic evidence supports what she told the police.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you take us through it, Miley?¡± Cassidy asked.


    Miley didn¡¯t look up from the table, or give any indication that she¡¯d heard the question.


    Ethan leaned forward a little, hunching more, pretending to be small. ¡°Miley? I know it might be hard to think about it. Don¡¯t try to think about everything at once, alright? Can you tell us what happened first?¡±


    A few long minutes passed in silence. Ethan and Cassidy looked at Miley. Simone and Bob looked at Ethan and Cassidy. Miley looked at the table. Finally, after the silence seemed to stretch long enough, Simone told them, ¡°Miley hasn¡¯t spoken since she made the 911 call.¡±


    Cassidy¡¯s attention turned to Simone, a combination of relief to have an excuse to stop focusing on the child and genuine intrigue. ¡°Miley was the one who called 911?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Simone confirmed. ¡°The recording was¡­ difficult to listen to.¡± Simone glanced down at Miley, who continued to have no reaction to the conversation the adults were holding around her. ¡°Miley was sobbing. It took a bit for the dispatcher to calm her down enough to understand what she was saying. Of course, they sent a unit out before that. But when it came out¡­ She told them what she¡¯d done. And then the officers arrived, and they saw all the blood, and they saw this moment where this anguished little girl just had too much and went blank.¡±


    ¡°Did she say anything about why she did it?¡± Ethan asked.


    Simone shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s anyone¡¯s guess.¡±


    ¡°She was having nightmares,¡± Cassidy informed them. ¡°I found her diary. She was seeing eyes in the dark and losing time.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Simone took a quick note on her phone. ¡°When you¡¯re done with that piece of evidence, I¡¯d like to see it. It might be useful to figure out how to help her.¡±


    ¡°As soon as we¡¯re done, I¡¯ll pass it on,¡± Cassidy promised.


    ¡°It might change her legal options,¡± Bob mused.


    ¡°For now, we¡¯d like permission to move her to a different facility,¡± Simone told them. ¡°Regardless of the outcome of her sentencing, Miley is a ward of the state now. The town¡¯s prison cell is not the best environment if we want her to get better, but the facility we¡¯d be moving her to is further away, and we wanted to make sure she was available for questioning.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The single word brought the proceedings to a halt. Miley¡¯s voice was low and raspy, probably from disuse. her eyes stayed focused on the table, strings of blonde hair overdue for a wash covering most of her face, but the no was clear.


    ¡°No what, sweetheart?¡± Simone asked.


    ¡°I need to stay here,¡± Miley told her. ¡°I can¡¯t go far.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you go?¡± Ethan asked.


    Miley didn¡¯t answer. No matter what coaxing words any of the adults tried, Miley remained silent. Eventually, they had to give up. Simone determined, given that her location was the only thing Miley had shown any interest in, that they would keep her in town a little longer, even if the holding cell she¡¯d been occupying wasn¡¯t ideal. Sheriff Stern had a mixed reaction to the news. He didn¡¯t personally think the mental facility they were talking about carting her off to nearer the state capitol was an appropriate punishment for murder, but he also didn¡¯t want the girl taking up the cell she was required to have to herself any longer than he had to keep her. Simone succinctly and professionally let him know she didn¡¯t give a damn what he thought about the matter, and asked Cassidy to get her the diary as soon as possible before heading somewhere more private with Miley. She invited Bob to stay as the girl¡¯s legal council, but he was already running late for yet another meeting and had to hurry out the door. Ethan made a request for the transcript of the 911 call, somewhat baffled it hadn¡¯t been included in the original filing, and then Ethan and Cassidy headed out themselves.


    ¡°I wonder why she felt so strongly about staying here,¡± Cassidy mused as she started the car.


    ¡°I mean, this is where she¡¯s always lived. This is where her family was. Nothing we¡¯ve learned about Miley has made this sound premeditated.¡± Ethan frowned. ¡°She needs help. I just hope she gets it.¡±


    Cassidy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and bit the inside of her cheek. She just hoped they were working on getting her the right kind of help. Cassidy was starting to have doubts.