Lying Liars from Leland High Pt. 01

*** Writers Note ***

This story is from the same series as my other works which involves an alien species that creates pocket dimensions and the people who get involved with them. But you don't need to know any of that to enjoy this. This is pure 90s high school murder mystery - Twin Peaks meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer - with plenty of sexy fun. Enjoy!

***

"Right this way, Mrs. Stevens!" Miranda's shoes click along the tile floor as she leads you through past the immaculate white lobby, and down the hallways of the virtual reality center.

It had been a month since your last visit, and since then, you had endlessly replayed the experience in your head. Immersive does not even begin to cover it - NextGen is a new wave of virtual reality vendors that actually puts you into a pocket dimension. You felt like you lived a whole life inside these pocket worlds they create. Thrilling adventure, sexy side plots, and a fully realized world. NextGen promises to transport you and they deliver. When you received the advertisement for their newest experience - a high school murder mystery - how could you resist?

After all, between your day job as a photographer, and your responsibilities as a mother and wife, the opportunity to live out some other adventure was thrilling. Sure, it costs a pretty penny but considering you will be living out a few weeks inside this created world in the blink of an eye, it definitely counts as a vacation.

Miranda, your technician from last time, gives you a warm smile. You gently smooth your black pleated skirt nervously as she brings you to the same medical appointment room you remember from last time.

"I'm so excited you booked another experience with us!" she said, leading you through the double doors.

"Well, after last time, how could I stay away?" You put your phone and clutch on the tray and hop up on the reclining chair, adjusting your shirt as it bunches up around your substantive chest, and pushing your long brown hair out of the way.

"So, we crunched the numbers from your last time here..." Miranda says and you jerk back to the present. She stooped over the large machine, punching buttons on her tablet.

"... and it looks like you like a healthy mix of all things, right? Plenty of adventure, plenty of romantic opportunities, high scores on exploration and character development." She turns around and smiles. "You really went for the full experience!"

"Is that rare?" You ask. She gives a little shrug.

"We protect our clients' confidentiality here..." she says apologetically.

"But in general?" She nods.

"In general, some folks like to just power through the whole thing - racing ahead to each plot point. Others just spend the whole time having sex with everyone they see. And some go absolutely bananas and just start..." she gives a painful wince.

"Sorry, not really the point. The point is, you got the full experience last time and I think you are really going to enjoy this. Did I mention I was on the design team for Lying Liars?" The cheer in her voice had returned.

"Yes, it's part of what made me want to give it a try." Miranda blushes at the compliment and fusses with her tablet.

"Well, I think you'll like this. It actually has a reactive protocol in the program, so the more you explore a plot thread, the more that theme plays a part in the story."

"Really?" You ask. She nods. How on earth are they pulling that off, you wonder.

"Okay, just a few last minute questions before we get started," she says. "This experience is a high school murder mystery, and we want it to reflect each individual's personal history. We find that leads to a more powerful experience but not everyone had a positive time in high school." She holds up her hand in mock apology, "I know I didn't!"

"No, I'm fine with that. My high school experience was fine. A bit boring but fine." You say.

"Well, this should be anything but boring!" Miranda answers. "Where'd you grow up? We can match the region to your childhood."

"Woah, that's pretty cool!" You say, mind racing. Miranda is looking at you expectantly.

"Sorry, my folks moved around a bit growing up but mostly in the Pacific Northwest."

"Excellent." Miranda clicks around. "How about Mercer Island? Are you familiar with that place? I'm seeing it is near Seattle." You crack a big smile.

"Yes, I know Mercer Island. That works!"

"Okay, and same romantic settings as last time?" You nod.

"Yes, those worked just fine. Although I do have a question," you say hesitantly. "You mention romantic options but it involves high schools..."

"OH! Yes, don't worry about anything underage, we have strict protections against that. This experience is a tribute to 90s movies and television shows, and so all the characters are 'played' by twenty-something actors so you are completely okay. Also, it was the 90s, and HR wasn't really as big a deal as it is now, so some of the adults are options as well. Spoilers, I know but I figured you would want to know."

She pauses looking up from her keyboard. "Is that okay?"

"Oh yes, that all sounds great." You answer as she fits the skullcap onto your head and gives you the NextGen watch. You slip it onto your wrist.

"Remember, tap it three times if you need to end the scenario for any reason. We will be monitoring your vitals and your progress through the experience on our end but hopefully there shouldn't be any disruptions like last time."

She pauses, and gives you an odd look.

"Speaking of which, do you have anything else on your person that might disrupt the equipment? We were running diagnostics last time to see what happened and it appeared that there was some sort of electrical interference."

You shake your head. "Just the wire in my bra, is that a problem?" You laugh. She shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"Well, I think you should be good." She goes over to the big machine in the corner and slowly slides the lever up. "Here we go, off to Leland High..."

A hum fills the room, and the band on your head burns hot. The lights flicker above you and you see Miranda worriedly flipping switches on the big screen and then the whole room fades to white.

###

"Brenna! Excuse me, Brenna?" You look up, blinking. An older woman with thick, red glasses and a rather unflattering sweater is sitting behind a desk holding a large phone.

"Principal Sheffield will see you now." She points to the large office adjacent to her desk. You grab the brightly colored backpack you find leaning against your black tights and pleated orange skirt.

"Oof, these were definitely some fashion choices for the time." you mutter to yourself, adjusting the giant scrunchie on your wrist and pushing open the principal's office door.

Inside, Principal Sheffield, a large black man with a thin mustache, charcoal grey suit jacket and a cautious smile, sits behind a wide desk and beckons you to take the chair across from him.

"Brenna, yes, thank you for coming. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important?" He asks, glancing at his paperwork. "Ah, Mrs. Dorgan's class. Well, classic literature can wait, I'm afraid. Detective Morris, this is the young woman I was telling you about."

You turn and notice a tall, thin man with bleach blonde hair standing next to the window. He's wearing a long gray coat and has cheekbones that could cut your hands. He doesn't smile and his eyes are piercing.

"Hello Ms. Stevens." he says in a clipped british accent. "I understand you are something of an amateur detective?" Morris asks, a hint of mockery in his voice, but Principal Sheffield answers for you.

"Ms. Stevens actually helped the faculty resolve a rather uncomfortable situation last year involving a bit of blackmail from a community member. I think she can be helpful to you."

Morris gives you a cocky sneer. "And did this 'resolution' involve one of your hallucinations?"

He flips open his notebook. "Brenna Stevens, 18, a senior at Leland High School, claimed that the final location of the documents came to her 'in a flash'. Other students report that Stevens had claimed to have visions before and that it was 'that thing she does'."

Morris gives a disdainful look at you and then back to the principal.

"I have a murder to solve, I don't need to play nancy babysitter for some pretend fortune teller."

Sheffield's face darkens. "And how much progress have you made Detective? Those kids out there just opening up to you when you flash your badge? Especially with that foreign accent? Look, give her a chance."

You look back to Morris. He gives a big sigh and turns back to the two of you.

"Right. Look, if we are going to do this, you are going to follow my rules, got it?" You nod. "I don't need the hassle of trying to fend off a Nancy Drew while I'm trying to close the Jovanovic case. You do as I say, ask around, and report back to me. That's it. No meddling with the other suspects, no sneaking into places, no blabbing to your two little sidekicks..." he snaps his fingers. "... what's their names? The tall girl on the basketball team and the little yearbook dweeb."

"Crystal and Jules." Sheffield says softly.

"Yes, Crystal and Jules. Don't go blabbing to them, okay?" You nod.

"Okay." There's a moment's pause.

"So, you want to tell me what this is all about?" You ask.

Principal Sheffield pulls out a picture from the folder on his desk.

"You know Tom Jovanovic, right? He and his sister, Maribeth, transferred in two years ago." You feel like you should be taking notes. You reach down and unzip your backpack, pulling out a bulk plastic folder. You pull it open with a shockingly loud rip of velcro.

Oh yeah, a trapper keeper. Awesome.

Morris rolls his eyes at you but Sheffield continues.

"Apparently, Tom and Maribeth had a big party at their parent's house on New Year's Eve. Did you go?"

You shake your head. He continues.

"Well, it sounds like half the school was there, and it got pretty wild. It's a big house on a big piece of property next to the water. The next morning Tom's body was found down near the water and we have reason to believe that he was murdered."

He holds up a picture of Tom - a handsome senior, wearing some flannel and squinting into the camera.

"Now we've got a whole high school full of witnesses but Detective Morris has not been able to get any of them to share what happened. Do you think you could ask around and get him a few leads?"

You smile, finishing up your notes.

"Yes, I am happy to help." You turn to Detective Morris. "Any particular places I should start?"

Detective Morris starts ticking off options on his hand.

"We've got the blonde bint, his main squeeze. Her name is Jessica. There's the sister, of course, Maribeth. And then I think he has a few buddies on the swim team, he was close to a couple of blokes there."

"Okay, anything else I need to know?" You ask. "What about how he died - was he strangled or stabbed or drowned or.. "

"Fucking hell, lass!" Morris snarls. "You don't need to know a bleeding thing about that, christ child! Just ask around and see if anyone knows anything."

You turn towards Sheffield who gives you an indulgent smile and a gentle wave of dismissal.

"I'll do my best, thank you!" and with a quick bob, you slip out of the room.

".... stabbed or strangled.. " you hear Morris muttering. "Kids these days."

Flipping through your trapper keeper, you can see your class schedule mounted on the inside along with a little map of the school. Perfect!

The map inside your trapper keeper leads you right to Mr. Bassett's chemistry class. You quickly scan the room and pick a seat on one of the tall stools near the back at one of the lab stations. Do you have homework? Oh god, what if the teacher calls on you? Are you sitting in the right seat? You start flipping through your trapper keeper looking for notes.

"Evan Lansing." The teacher calls. "Here!"

"Damien Holt?" "Present."

"Jessica Miller?" You crane your next to see a short blonde girl with a wide trusting face and sad eyes put up her hand. "Here." She says. She's got to be the girlfriend.

"Brenna Stevens?" Mr. Bassett calls out. "Present!"

And with that, Mr. Bassett is sorting you into small groups around bunsen burners so that you can dissolve sugar into a solution. You grab your back and quickly position yourself in the same group as Jessica.

Your other two team members are already getting started while Jessica pulls out a small pink notebook and Lisa Frank pen to take notes.

"Hey," you say to Jessica quietly. "I heard about Tom. I'm so sorry."

She looks over at your teammates nervously but they are engrossed in the project.

"I'm not even supposed to talk about it," she says. "Not until they make an announcement anyway. But thank you."

"Do you know anybody who would have wanted to hurt him?" She looks over at you appraisingly.

"I know you want to help, Brenna, but I don't have any of the answers. We were only dating a few months, and I don't even think he liked me that much," she says sadly.

"What makes you say that?" You ask. She gives a big sigh.

"Sometimes, things were great. He was cute, he was kind. But some days," she shook her head. "He was cold and distant. Elizabeth said that there might be another girl, I don't know." Jessica shrugs.

"I guess it doesn't matter anymore. If you want to know what was really going on, you should talk to those two friends of his, Cody and Dylan? He was always talking with them. And his sister, but he hates his sister. Hated."

"Are you two going to help at all?" Your lab partner asks snarkily.

"Sorry." You apologize. Jessica gives you a sympathetic smile as the two of you jot down the readings on temperature.

"Brenna?" She whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I don't trust that cop. But I know you will get to the bottom of this." She squeezes your hand, softly and your heart beats a little faster.

###

The announcement came just as you were settled in your last class of the day, US history. Principal Sheffield was brief but to the point.

"As many of you may be aware, we lost a student over the winter break. Tom Jovanovic died on New Year's Eve. The school counselors are available for anyone who needs to talk and we appreciate all students respecting the family's privacy during this difficult time. Thank you."

Judging by the lack of surprise from the students in your class, the rumor mill had been busy but at least it was out in the open now.

As your history teacher droned on, you strategize your next move after school.

At the sound of the final bell, the river of students delivers you out the front doors of the high school and into the cold, clear January weather. You survey the chaos unfolding in front of the school gates - the cars pulling in for pick up, the school buses loading in the adjacent parking lot, teenagers lounging in their hoodies, all talking and shouting and posing and shuffling.

"Yo! Brenna!" A short guy with wavy dark hair and a skateboard waves at you. He stands next to a tall, muscular Latina woman who is doing her best not to be seen standing next to him.

"Don't just shout at her! You are so lame." The woman says, swatting his shoulder as you approach.

"Hey," you say cautiously, racking your brains for the names Principal Sheffield had mentioned. "Crystal and Jules?" you say, trying not to make it sound like a question.

"Of course, space cadet, who else would it be?" Crystal responds, "Just your best friend from the second grade and that annoying boy who won't stop following us around."

Jules gives his best cocky smile. "That's just because you both are in love with me and I can't decide which one of you to marry."

Crystal rolls her eyes. "Could you not? You're getting virgin vibe all over me. Ugh."

"So, did you get to talk to the cockney detective? I saw you head into the Scheff' office." Crystal asks.

"Technically, I think he has a London accent." Jules corrects. "East London actually. Cockney is a whole different thing. You would know that if you bothered to watch those Monty Python tapes I lent you."

You grin. "Monty Python is pretty sweet," you say. Jules lights up.

"See! Thank you!"

"So... what'd the detective say?" Crystal asks. "Actually, can we talk and walk? It's almost time for basketball practice. Otherwise I'd walk you two home but it's Tuesday."

"Can't let anyone else know the three of us live in the only poor part of Mercer island, can we?" says Jules with more than a little bitterness. "The bourgeoisie might get nervous that they have been infiltrated."

The three of you head off towards the gym as you share your encounter with Detective Morris and then the brief conversation with Jessica Miller.

"Sounds to me like we've got our work cut out for us. A real murder too!" Jules rubs his hands together before shooting you an apologetic look.

"Sorry Brenna, I just get excited."

"You are already thinking of making a suspect board, aren't you?" says Crystal. "Just like the Halliwell family case from last year?" Jules nods eagerly.

"Plus, because I'm on the yearbook staff, I have access to some of the student files. I'll see what we've got on Tom and his sister."

"Thanks you two. I really appreciate it," you say as you reach the outer door of the gym.

"So what are you going to do now?" Crystal asks.

"I was thinking about going to swim practice to see if I can get some answers out of his friends," you say.

Crystal gets a coy smile. "Ooohhh, dang. All those sexy boys in their speedos. Are you going to the pool or sneaking into their locker room? Use your feminine wiles on them?"

Jules gives her an irritated look - jealousy? But she ignores it.

"If you are going to be home late, I give your mom a heads up. I know she's not going to be done with her bus route till later, I can leave a note for you." Jules says.

You thank Jules for leaving a note for your mom and then head over to the indoor pool adjacent to the gym. The moist air, reeking of chlorine, makes you regret the tights you are wearing but you soldier on, picking your way through the metal bleachers past the scattering of other kids and adults. The pool has two sections, a lengthy lap section and a diving area. The swim team, looking more like a muscular batch of twenty something J crew models rather than actual teenagers, are doing laps in phases under the watchful eye of a balding Jason Alexander lookalike.

Rummaging through your backpack, you locate a disc man (already loaded with NOW 6!), and chunky headphones. You set down on the bleachers next to where the swimmers queue up for their laps, put the headphones a little askew and wait.

You don't have to wait long. The swimmers are talking and in the hurried hushed tones of nervous secrets.

"Did you hear?"

"I can't believe it..."

"I had so much to drink that night."

"I know! You stuck your dick in Lizzy!"

"Everyone has stuck their dick in Lizzy. She's seen more cock than Cody's mom."

At the mention of Cody, one of Tom's close friends, you zero in on which two athletes are talking. A lanky swimmer with long, curly, dirty brown hair is treading water with a shorter, more muscular guy with spiky black hair.

"Dude, she was there." says spiky hair.

"Lizzy? I know, she sucked me off in the boathouse." says the curly haired swimmer.

"No, asshole, Cody's mom."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, you know what they say about her." Says the curly haired man.

"I know, but I think she had something going on with Tom," said spiky hair. "I saw them talking out back."

"She was probably just trying to score some firespores from Billy. He was there too." The curly haired swimmer splashes the water dismissively as he washes his goggles.

"Oh I know!" says spiky hair. "We still owe him $900!"

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah, he's going to pissed if we don't come up with the dough soon."

"Dylan! Matthew! Front and center!" The coach calls them over.

"No way Tom was banging Cody's mom. He was too busy with Clarissa." says Dylan, the curly haired lanky swimmer.

"Don't you mean Jessica?" says Matthew, the short spiky haired one.

"Yeah right! Ask Dylan about that!" Both crack up laughing as the coach urges them into the water.

Interesting. Very interesting.

###

Getting home was slightly more complicated than you expected. Fishing through your backpack, you were able to find a driver's license with an address but without a cell phone, you were forced to use the yellow pages from the school office, which had a map on the inside cover.

Jules had mentioned walking home so you found the school and worked your way outwards till you found your address - a small cluster of fourplexes barricaded from the adjacent neighborhood of McMansions by a stand of Douglas firs.

By the time you reach your apartment, it is dark and the street lights illuminate the ever present Pacific Northwest mist into balls of orange light along your path.

Your apartment is on the second floor, and taking a nervous breath, you open the door. Inside there's a worn carpet, and a beat up couch in front of a small television (well, decent size for the 90s).

"Brenna, is that you?" An older woman calls from the kitchen.

"Yes?" You say tentatively, pulling off your damp hoodie and hanging it on the peg by the door.

"There's some pasta on the stove, come sit."

A portly woman with a broad friendly face and a short perm haircut of greying dark hair waves you over. You grab a bowl of Alfredo and sit at the slightly lopsided wooden table as she cracks open her second beer of the night.

"What, you are looking at me like I'm a stranger? It's just me, Tammy, your mom. I've only been raising you these eighteen years." She says with a sarcastic laugh.

"Right, sorry." You apologize, taking a grateful bite of the food.

"They told us about your classmate before we started the elementary school routes this morning. I'm sorry to hear that. We're you and the kid..."

"Tom?"

"That's right. Were you and Tom close?" She asks, pushing a helping of steamed green beans onto your plate.

You shake your head.

"Well, I saw the note your boyfriend left, I assume you are working on the case?" Her eyes have a bit of mischief in them.

"He's not my boyfriend." You answer.

"And why not? That Jules kid is perfectly sweet. He's been following you around since the seventh grade, you should give him a shot!"

You roll your eyes.

"Anyway, yes, I'm trying to solve the murder."

"I wish you would have a normal hobby, something reasonable like playing the piccolo." She starts scooping up the dishes and cracks open her third beer.

"Or basketball! You could play basketball like your friend Crystal."

"Mom, Crystal is like 6 feet tall and I... am not."

"I just worry about you. Us Stevens women have bad luck. It's that witch's blood in our veins, ever since those fools drove your great great grandmother from the bogs of Ireland - Death follows us like an old friend. It claimed your grandparents and your father long before their time. I had hoped for a fresh start here on Mercer Island. I just don't want you meddling with more than you can handle."

She gives your cheek an affectionate stroke. "No matter how tough you are."

"Alright, I'm gonna watch a show and then go to bed. I'll be up early for work. Don't forget to eat some breakfast tomorrow morning, okay?"

"I will, Mom." It felt weird calling someone else mom but she gives you a warm smile and heads over to the couch.

There's only two rooms in the apartment so it is easy to figure out which one is yours, the one with the big Leonardo DiCaprio poster in it. You flop down on the bed and pull out the homework from the day. After quickly perusing the textbook, you decide you've done enough homework in your life and chuck it all back in your backpack. You make a few notes about the suspects so far and then go to bed.

###

You hear a howling wind, and feel your clothes whipping around your body. You kick your feet but are unable to connect with anything solid. There's never ending grey in all directions, a chaotic void, angry and frantic.

There! You can see something distantly above you - like you are deep under water and catching glimpses of something above the surface.

You crane your neck to try and get a better look and suddenly you are catapulted closer, tumbling head over heels until you wrench to a stop in front of an enormous pulsating heart, as tall as you. It beats, thunderous, veins bulging, tissue straining.

From above you see a giant sword come slicing out of the darkness. Soundlessly, it slides into the top of the heart, its bloody dripping blade extending out the bottom of the giant fleshy organ. And still, the heart beats.

Thum-thump! Thum-thump!

You feel a malevolent presence, like a noxious smell just on the edge of your perception - old cigarettes and alcohol so cheap it burns.

Hissssssss. Shakakakaka. The sound makes your blood run cold. Somewhere beneath your feet, there is the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake.

You peer down into the howling void, past your naked legs, and see it. As thick as a shopping cart, the mottled brown scales glint as the snake uncoils and begins to slide up, up, towards you.

You frantically try to put some space between yourself and the snake but it flies past you without any hint of recognition and begins to wrap itself around the heart.

It binds it tight and then, rears up at the top, fangs bared, and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. Something terrible will happen, and soon.

You scream and the snake looks straight at you - it's feminine eyes piercing your soul and you are flying backward - as they dwindle to nothingness before you.

The wind burns your ears as you fall backwards and the void shifts around you. A tree, a thick cedar heavy with limbs, comes into focus. As it draws near you see behind it a window, no house, just a window with blue trim and inside, you see a bedroom dimly lit with white Christmas lights.

You come to rest on one of the thick branches, just outside the window, and you wrap your hands around it, steadying yourself against the howling wind.

Inside the bedroom, for it surely was a bedroom, you see a desk with a textbook open, and then you jump as a woman comes into view.

Jessica, in a simple t-shirt and pajama pants, stares at the open textbook in irritation, running her hand through her tousled blonde hair.

She turns and looks out the window and screams!

You see your reflection in the glass, a furry fox-like face of brownish red fir with a tiny snout. You scream in panic and your paws lose their grip on the branch and you are tumbling, tumbling, down the darkness, your screams echoing endlessly around you.

"Brenna... Brenna!" Tammy is shaking your shoulder in the darkness of the bedroom.

You gulp for air, still shaking from the adrenaline.

"Here, here." Tammy hands you a soda, cold and bubbly, and the sugar coats your throat, slowing your pounding heart.

"I saw... I saw...

"Don't try to talk, it always gets muddled when you do. Here, write it down like we talked about, as much as you can remember."

She clicks on the lamp and hands you your pad of paper. As you pour the words out onto the page, Tammy gently runs her hands through your hair and by the time you have finished, the terror has receded. It felt odd, being mothered again after so many years of being Mom but for this moment, as you think back on the horrifying heart beating away, you are grateful for the affection.

Tammy looks over your notes. "Snakes, hearts, foxes, swords. Does any of this make sense to you?"

You shake your head. "I know it is connected, Jessica - that's Tom's girlfriend, that part felt real. I feel like she's in danger but from what?" You sigh and put down the pen. "I don't know."

"If the visions were clear, then our people would be prophets rather than crazy old bitches." Tammy gives a little cackle.

"Your grandmother, bless her soul, she was nuttier than a fruitcake by the end but she knew stuff, things no one else was supposed to know." Tammy sighs.

"I suppose I should be thankful the sight skipped a generation. I'm sorry, I know it is not an easy gift. But at least you can put it to some good. If you received a vision then you must be on the right path with this case of yours."

She gives you an affectionate head nuzzle.

"But that's for tomorrow, Nancy Drew. Try and get some sleep before sunup, okay?"

You nod as Tammy turns out the light. You are asleep before your head even hits the pillow.

###

"A beating heart!" Jules pumps the air with his fist. "That is SO sick! Maybe the killer has the body all sealed up beneath his floorboards. Oooooo!"

You laugh at Jules antics as the two of you make your way out of the development and down the gently sloping sidewalk towards the high school.

True to her word, Tammy had left bright and early but a blaring alarm, and a quick bowl of cereal later, you found yourself meeting Jules in the apartment parking lot.

"I don't know, it felt more motorcycle gang than Edgar Allen Poe." You pause for a moment.

"Where's Crystal?" You ask.

"Running late. Again." Jules gives a wry laugh. "If it weren't for my mad hacking skills, she'd get more detention than you do!"

"Mad hacking skills?" You say.

"Oh for sure. I'm the hacker man!"

You two pick your way through the parking lot, dodging clumsily parked cars and make your way towards the school steps.

"You know, that's not a bad idea," you say.

"Being late?" Jules cracks.

"No, hacking. Or at least student files. Do you think you could get into Tom's student file?"

He scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't see why not? Mrs. Gleason hasn't changed the password in the last two years, shouldn't be a problem."

"We need to know what was happening with Tom before he died. We can't start narrowing down the suspect until we have a motive." There. That feels like a proper detective thing to say.

Jules gives you an exaggerated bow. "Your wish is my command, my Queen." The two of you push your way into the crowded hallway.

"Hey, Brenna?" Jules begins, "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you..."

DING! The class bell rings out. The crowd of students surges around you.

"Yes?" You call out above the throng. He shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, later gator!" He gives a wave and is swallowed up by the crowd.

You flip open your trapper keeper. Health class and then a free period. What to do, what to do, what to do?

After Health class you stop by the office. The administrative assistant, Patricia, gives you a frosty glare as you ask if Detective Morris is in.

After taking a note to the back, she returns and leads you to a tiny office - a desk bracketed by two filing cabinets with Detective Morris wedged between them.

"Wow, your own office here at the school." You smirk. He's dressed more casually, a light jacket with a grey undershirt and has a number of typed pages spread over the small desk. He grimaces.

"Sod off. The locals don't have room for me at the station so I'm stuck here till this bleeding case is done. You got something useful to share or are you just here to play interior decorator?"

"I actually do, thank you very much." You bring him up to speed on the swimming conversation between Dylan and Matt but keep the vision for yourself. At the mention of Billy and firespores, he gives you an excited look and fusses with a small safe tucked behind his chair. From it, he draws a Manila envelope labeled "Evidence: Exhibit #6".

"Put out your hand, love." He says, and he up ends the envelope into your palm. Out slides a small baggie, the kind you would use to hold earrings. Pressed inside the baggie was three, dried, blood red, mushroom, with distinctive fiery tips.

"Oh shit!" You exclaim.

"So you recognize it?" Morris says. Calidum Corpora. A blush rises to your cheeks as you remember the fiery night with your roommate in college many years ago.

"Earth to Brenna! Hello?" He snaps his fingers. "Look, I'm not going to turn you in, I just need to know what it is. We found it in Tom's pocket that night."

"It's a drug. A sex drug." You say cautiously.

"What, like a roofie?" You shake your head.

"More like a powerful aphrodisiac. Very powerful." Your cheeks burn hot.

"Really?" He gives you a sly grin. "Got some personal experience with it, eh? Any side effects you know about?"

You shake your head.

"You think he overdosed?" You ask, handing back the baggie but Morris grimaces.

"No. He was beaten and then drowned. We won't know for certain till we get toxicology back but it looks like someone hit him with something heavy and chucked him in the drink."

He gives you an apologetic look. "There, see, I can share too. I figured a hardened drug user like yourself can handle a little of the gruesome stuff." You give him a wicked smile.

"Now, Clarissa, Clarissa, Clarissa..." He flips through a student registry. "We're in luck, there's only one. Clarissa Belmont."

"Patricia!" He shouts over your shoulder. "Paaaaatriciaaaa!"

The administrative assistant puts her head in with a look of absolute disdain.

"Mister Morris!" She begins. "I am not a cow out in the field and shall not be summoned as such."

Detective Morris begins to speak but she holds up a single finger, silencing his protests.

"Furthermore, I work for the Mercer Island School District, not you. I am not your personal assistant, subject to your petty whims and desires!"

Detective Morris gives you a bemused look which only seemed to enrage the frustrated secretary even more.

"Dearest Patricia, divine model of patience and virtue, if you have a moment, merely at your convenience, I would very much appreciate it if you could print off Ms. Clarissa Belmont's schedule? It would be enormously helpful if you could provide a copy to my new friend, Ms. Stevens. It certainly would be worth the admiration of the entire Seattle Police Department if you could assist us in this endeavor."

Patricia's eyes narrow to slits. "Clarissa Belmont." She mutters. "We will see."

And with a huff, she is gone. Morris looks back to you with a sardonic smile.

"Right. Now these two blokes, Dylan and Matthew, you need me to cuff 'em and spook them a bit. Tongues start wagging if Daddy has to pick you up at the station."

You shake your head. "Not yet, you do that and everyone will clam up fast. Let me keep digging."

"Well," he claps his hands, "I'll leave you to it. Keep checking in and if there's anything I can do..."

"Actually... it might be helpful to have something to loosen their tongue."

He cocks an eyebrow at you as you gesture at the baggie on the desk.

"You are a bit of a loose cannon, aren't you? I like that." He weighs it for a moment, then tips out one of the mushrooms onto the desk. "Wouldn't be the first time a little bit of evidence fell off the truck. Don't make me regret this."

Fishing through your backpack, you find an empty granola wrapper and using the wrapper, retrieve the mushroom.

"Thank you! You won't!" You say, backing out of his office.

Patricia already has the schedule ready for you as you approach.

"Sorry to be a bother," her frosty glare could level a mountain but you press on.

"Is Jessica Miller in class right now?"

"I'm sorry, but student attendance records are not for public discussion," she says.

"Paaatriciaaaa!" Morris calls from the other room, clearly listening in. Patricia sighs.

"But to answer your question, no. She did not show up for school today."

###

Maribeth was surprisingly easy to find. On Jules advice, you found her during lunch huddled behind a portable with two of her gothy friends smoking a cigarette.

As you approach she surrenders the cigarette butt to her friends and waves them off.

"Hey, you're the hot shot kid detective right? I figured you'd come looking for me. Let's get this over with, 'Kay?"

Her nose ring, mesh top and leather pants and boots all screamed trying too hard in the way only an eighteen year old can. Eighteen year old?

"You're Tom's older sister, right?" You ask. She nods.

"Yep, and I'm such a fuckup, they held me back a year for shits and giggles. Now I get to flunk civics twice, lucky me." Her words are bitter but rehearsed. "At this rate, I'll be in this dump till I'm twenty-two."

She looks closer to twenty-four. They all do actually - everyone in this world is aged up, just like a teen movie. It's disorienting but you press on.

"Tell me about Tom, does anyone have it out for him?"

"Sure. Loads of people. He was mister perfect, what's not to hate?" She flashed a wild smile, like the glinting of a knife.

"Did he talk about having it out with anyone recently?" You ask.

"My brother and I don't talk." She says bluntly.

"I heard at the party Tom had a fight with an older woman, Cody's mom." Maribeth gives a cold, heartless chuckle.

"I'm not surprised." But she did not elaborate.

"Maybe she was looking to score some firespores from Billy..." You begin.

Maribeth moves in a flash, producing a switchblade from her boot and shoving it up against your neck, pushing you back into the metal siding of the portable.

"What'd you say?" She hisses.

"I said, maybe she and Billy..." but she jabs the edge of the blade into your neck.

"Nemoj me jebat!" She shouts. The words might be foreign but the intent is clear.

"If you know what's good for you, you keep Billy's name out of your fucking mouth! Girls who go asking them wrong questions..."

But she never gets to finish the threat as a hand grabs her wrist and sends her sprawling face first onto the concrete.

Crystal steps between you and Maribeth, looming over the slender girl.

"Excuse me?" Crystal says. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Maribeth snatches up the knife off the ground and pulls her shirt back into place.

"This ain't over B, Wonder Woman can't be with you everywhere!" And with that, she beat a hasty retreat around the building.

"Or not." Crystal notes with a shrug. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You say, distracted. "Did you see what she had in her back?"

Crystal looks at you, perplexed.

"Uh, a tacky top and a far too visible bra?" She says.

"No, a tattoo. A tattoo of a rattlesnake."

###

Jules is waiting to walk you to your second to last period of the day. He shoves a print out into your hand.

"That's everything I could find on Tom Jovanovic," he said. "He makes mostly As and Bs, plenty of extra curriculars - swim, shop class, he was a busy guy. He transferred in two years ago - international transfer. Apparently the school had trouble pulling over any sort of records so anything earlier than two years ago is all question marks. Barely any discipline notes, unlike his sister."

"You don't say." You offer wryly.

"But check this out." Jules points to the bottom of the page.

"Overdue library books?" You ask incredulously. "That's it?"

"Look at how much. That's not a few lost books for English class, that's checking out a ton and not bringing them back. He's racking up quite a fine." Jules says.

"What books?" You ask.

"Beats me, ask Mr. Pendegrast," says Jules. "Anyway, I've got to split. Walk you home?" He says, hopeful.

"Maybe, I'm not sure yet." He nods and then ducks into the other hallway as the class bell rings out.

"What are you hiding, Tom Jovanovic?" You mutter.

###

The Library is at the center of the school, taking advantage of broad skylights and a wide circular layout to layer the space with deep, tall, bookshelves made of dark stained wood. Walking from section to section gave the sense of wandering deep in a deserted city of skyscrapers.

You arrive just as the last class was filling out, leaving a well-tailored young man to gather the abandoned books onto a squeaking metal cart. He looks up at your arrival and gives you a warm smile.

"Ah, Ms. Stevens, come in, come in." He waves you in. "I need to close up in a moment or two but I'm always delighted to see my fair Auguste Dupin grace my doorstep. What may I do for you today?" His words are graceful, making each word seem like it was dancing in his mouth.

"Hello!" you say, relieved that he seems to both know you and like you already. "I'm working on a case, and I need your help."

"Ah yes, young Mr. Jovanovic. Of course, so very tragic. I would expect nothing less than your involvement at some point. I know Mr. Sheffield is quite impressed with your accomplishments and appreciates your commitment to discretion. I know I do."

He gives you a soft smile that makes you question exactly how familiar you are with this young, handsome library in a brown suit.

"Uh yes." You say, blushing and fidgeting slightly with your jean skirt. Thankfully, his gaze returns to the cart of books and he begins making the rounds, reshelving them and straightening as he goes.

"How may I assist this time? Anatomy textbooks again? Or perhaps one of our many books on poisons that you have had me pull over from the mainland?"

He wheels around, his eyes gleaming.

"Or has there been another one of your visions? I have those remote viewing and resonance theory books you ordered. Has the sight returned upon you again?"

He peers into your face, and again your cheeks get hot at the intensity of his focus.

"I.. uh... I just need to know what books Tom was checking out. It sounds like he had quite a few." He gives you a skeptical look at avoiding the question but clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"Ah yes. Tom indeed had run up quite a tab here. Let me see." He walks over to the clunky MS-DOS computer and taps the keyboard.

"He had recently discovered a great interest in the area of law, I believe." The librarian says, clicking through the list. "He reserved several books on immigration policy, naturalization, and domestic law." He shakes his head.

"I remember asking him about it and he said that he wanted to 'be prepared', but wouldn't elaborate. I must confess, at the time, I assumed he was studying for some college prep project."

"So are those the books he hasn't returned?" you ask. The librarian shakes his head.

"Hmmm, no actually. The books he still has are here - Baby Yaga's Black Geese, The Rusalka, The Leshy and the Bannik, The Golden Stag." The librarian's face darkens. "These are all volumes about slavic faery tales, except for the last which is from Alester Crowley. I thought I had removed these materials from our system - no good can come of this." He says softly, almost to himself.

He turns back to you. "That is all I know, I'm afraid. If you have a chance to speak with his sister, I would appreciate the materials being returned to the library. I would hate for a parent to see them and get the wrong idea about what goes on here."

He gives a laugh that feels a little too guilty to be genuine, but you like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, so you let him get away with it.

"Thank you, Mr. Pendegrast," you say. "This is helpful." He gives a mock look of injury.

"Mr. Pendegrast, so formal now, Brenna." He says, with mirth in his eyes. "Please, I think you can call me Simon by now."

"Only if you behave." You say, returning his grin and biting your lip. "See you soon, Simon."

"Farewell," he says as you depart the library, his gaze following you all the way out the door.

###

As promised, Jules is waiting for you at the front of the school as you shoulder your backpack and start walking. According to Jules notes, Jessica lives along the waterfront on the west side of the island, about a twenty minute walk from the school.

"Did you hear?" Jules has a flyer in his hands. "The Chromatics are playing tomorrow night at the 'Mat. Everybody is going to be there!"

"What's the 'Mat?" You ask. He gives you an exasperated look.

"What's the 'Mat? Only the coolest place to hang out in all of Mercer Island! It is technically a laundromat, but thanks to some city loophole, they've got a stage and sell drinks but it's an all-ages club. At least as long as it is still operating as a laundromat. The only trick is the bands have to play louder than the washing machines." He laughs.

"Not a problem for most of the bands that know, like, four chords total. But the Chromatics are good. I saw them last year and they were totally tubular."

You wince at the 90s slang but move on to giving Jules the update from the librarian.

"Law books - immigration? I wonder if there was some sort of issue with how they came over from... Romania?" he says. "No, that's not right," he mutters.

You flip open the trapper keeper and check the printout from Tom's student file. "It says his files were imported from Belgrade, YU. Where's Belgrade?" you ask.

"Yugoslavia." Jules answers. "Wait, not anymore. Now it's just Serbia, or Croatia, or maybe Slovenia." He shakes his head. "The whole area had a revolution and there's lots of fighting going on there. I'm not sure where exactly Belgrade is in the middle of that."

"Hmm. Is Tom a citizen?" Jules shrugs. "Maybe he just wanted his citizenship. He was eighteen after all."

"I'm more interested in the books he kept." You say, "I've heard of Baba Yaga before but the rest are a complete mystery to me. Well, not Alester Crowley, but the rest."

"It is possible he was doing a book project or something." Jules says as the two of you enter a cul-de-sac filled with large houses with their three-car garages and natural wood overhang roofs.

"Possible, but I don't know." you say. "There was such a... malevolent presence during my vision. There might be more at play here than I thought."

Jules stops cold.

"I never thought about that before," he says. "Ever since the Truman case last year, I always believed in your extra-sensory powers. How could I not? But I never considered there might be more out there. After all, if you can see the future, maybe there are monsters and demons lurking in dark corners that we don't know about?"

He pauses for a moment.

"That's so fucking cool!" He says. "God, I hope I'm right. This is like some serious ghostbusters business!"

You laugh as the two of you approach Jessica Miller's house, a two story affair with gray wood siding and blue trim around the windows. You note the thick cedar trees on either side of the property, looking in on the windows.

"Oh hey, what did you want to ask me about?" you remember. Jules blushes.

"Forget about it, we're here. We can talk later." he says.

"Okay." You shrug and give the door a knock. An older woman with dyed blonde hair answers the door.

"Hello?" she says cautiously.

"Hi, you must be Jessica's mom! I'm Brenna and this is Jules. We're classmates of hers and since she didn't show up today, we have some of her homework from chemistry class and thought we'd drop it off. Is she in?"

The woman brightens. "Oh of course! Come in, come in." You follow her past a garishly decorated couch and glass cabinets of knicknacks into the kitchen.

"To be honest, she could probably use a little company. Jessica!" she calls up the stairs. "Your friends are here." After a few moments without a response, the mom puts out a bowl of party mix.

"You stay here, I'll go check on her." and vanishes up the stairs.

You and Jules exchange a concerned look but the mom returns shortly after.

"Go on up and see her in her bedroom, she's fine. She's fine." the mom says in a way that is not at all reassuring. As you and Jules start up the stairs, the mom snags the back of Jules jacket.

"Ah ah!" she tuts. "No boys in the bedroom. You can stay put while your friend delivers the homework. Have some snacks!" Jules rolls his eyes but stays in the kitchen as you climb the stairs.

Jessica's bedroom is exactly as it appeared in your vision, the desk, the lamp, the white Christmas lights giving it a warm glow. Jessica herself is sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket looking somewhere between anxious and confused at your sudden appearance at her door.

"What.. hi Brenna." She says. "Mom said you had homework for me?"

"Oh, yeah I didn't write any of it down. I think you're supposed to read the next chapter and do some of the questions but I wasn't paying attention. You know how Mr. Bassett can be." you say, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"You aren't sick." you say with a smile. "What happened?" She looks at you, there's a moment and then all the color drains from her face.

"Oh Brenna," her voice is shaky. "I saw him! I saw Tom!" Tears well up in her eyes. You fold her into a hug as she cries on your shoulder, her slender frame heaving with big sobs.

"It's okay, it's okay." you whisper softly. "I believe you. When you're ready, take a deep breath and tell me what you saw."

After a few more shuddering breaths, she composes herself, dries her eyes and begins.

"It was late, I was finishing up AP History and I saw him. Right here."

She goes to her window, pointing out to the branches of the cedar tree.

"He had climbed up there and was looking right in. He looked like hell, his hair was all tangled and his clothes dirty but it was him! It was my Tom."

"I screamed and ran out into the hallway. By the time I got myself together, he was gone. But the window was open and he left this behind."

She goes to her bedside drawer and pulls out a bit of orange folded paper. Origami. She hands it over to you.

"Is it a fox or a weasel?" She shakes her head.

"It's a Marten. There's lots of them in his home country." she explained. "One of our first dates was to the Woodland Park zoo and we spent forever at the Marten exhibit, so I called him my little Marten." She gets up, restless, and begins pacing.

"How? Tell me, Brenna. You're the detective. How is this possible? I... I don't even know..."

"Well, either he's alive and faked his death and in that case, I've got lots more questions for Detective Morris. Or he's dead and still with us."

Jessica looks at you, horrified.

"What would that mean?" she says.

"Maybe he's a spirit and he's struggling to move on to the next world." You say, feeling somewhat out of your depth but Jessica looks like a frightened deer, ready to bolt.

"Oh, I do not want that." she says. "He was... he could be here every minute of every day?" She shudders, rubbing her arms at a sudden chill.

"When he was good, he was my little marten, but some days... he was not. I would never know which version of my boyfriend I'd see each day."

"Did he hurt you?" You ask.

"He never laid a hand on me, if that's what you're asking, but he did hurt me," she says sadly. "Especially when I refused to... we didn't actually..." she says cautiously.

"... have sex?" You ask. She nods.

"I just couldn't, not with him. And he would say such hurtful things." She draws a slow careful breath.

You go to the window sill, looking out at the branch, and at the steep climb to the ground below.

"Did he ever come in through this window while you were dating?" you ask, feeling the sturdy wood of the window sill.

She shakes her head. "He threw rocks on the window a few times from the ground below, so he knows where I sleep. But no, he never climbed in before." She lets out another anguished sob.

"Oh god, he was here, Brenna, I know it." She wraps her arms around you and you feel her soft face press into your head as she pulls you to her chest as the two of you embrace.

You squeeze her tight and then look her in the eyes with a fierce look.

"Jessica, it is going to be okay. I'm going to figure out what's going on and do everything I can to make sure you're safe. Tom's not going to hurt you, not while I'm on the case." There, that sounded like a proper detective thing to say.

"Oh Brenna," she sighs in relief and then, closing her eyes, plants the softest kiss on your lips. You gasp in surprise as she cups your face in her hands, savoring the moment, and then turning away.

"Sorry." she mumbles. "I don't know..."

"No, no. It's okay. More than okay." you say, blushing furiously.

"I should get going." You say. She nods, not trusting herself to speak again. "I'll be in touch. Lock your window, okay?" and with that you make your way downstairs.

###

The walk back is somber. You give Jules the update from Jessica, sans kiss obviously, and he shares what little he gleaned from talking to Jessica's mom. That Jessica and Tom's relationship was rocky at best, with lots of tears and shouting, and that the mom and dad were out of town for New Years Eve and had no idea whether or not Jessica went to the party.

"I remember Tom, he didn't seem like an abusive boyfriend to me." says Jules as the two of you make your way through the small Mercer Island downtown.

"That's the thing about abusers, you don't know unless you are the one being abused." you say. Jules considers that, pausing at the gas station.

"Hey, hold up, I need to make a quick phone call." he says, heading for the pay phone. You nod, enjoying the view of the Olympics from the street corner.

Distantly, you hear squealing tires and a roaring engine.

"Brenna! Look out!" something tackles you from behind and you go tumbling towards the ground. You feel the rush of air as a vehicle hurts within inches of your body.

Cradling you in his arms, a handsome young man catches you, moments from the concrete as a dirt brown truck peels out, racing down the street.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "They hopped the curve and nearly mowed you down." His deep brown eyes are filled with concern as he gently helps you up, his muscular frame lifting you like a feather.

"Thank you!" you say, still shook up. "I think you saved my life."

"I was just walking by." he says, demurring.

Jules comes running up. "Oh my god, are you okay Brenna?"

"I'm alright, Jules. Thanks to..." you look to your new friend.

"Cody Harris?" Jules says incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs. "Swim practice let out early, so I went to get a slurpy."

He starts to back away. "Anyway, it looks like your boyfriend can take it from here," he says.

"Oh no, we're not, he's not..." you begin to say but Jules jumps in.

"It looks like they were aiming for you. I just saw the truck as it came close, but it was definitely intentional," Jules says.

"Did you see who was driving it?" You ask, turning to Jules, then Cody. Both shake their heads.

"Damn. I didn't get a license plate either." you say. Cody looks around awkwardly, gives you a bit of a smile but quickly returns to his tough boy act.

"Uh... see you at school Brenna." he says, then giving Jules a nod, "Jules." before walking off.

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm your pounding heart. Jules is still glaring at the backside of Cody as he rounds the street corner.

"So that's Cody, one of Tom's friends." you say distantly. "Well, I did want to talk to him at some point." You clap your hands together as a smile spreads across your face.

"Jules, this is good news!" you say. "If someone tried to kill me, it means we must be getting close!"

###

"He's not in." Patricia snaps, shuffling papers in the angriest way possible in your direction.

"What do you mean, he's not in? Like, is he not at the school or back in Seattle or... " you ask.

You had stopped by hoping to update Detective Morris on your progress but Patricia has blocked your way.

"Meaning that he is not in." Patricia offered only an icy stare as elaboration and you decide that discretion is the better part of valor.

"No luck?" Crystal asks as you head out of the school office. She sets pace with you as you make your way to the lunch room. You shake your head.

"Tragic, no popping in on the hunky British cop today," Crystal snarks. "Whatever shall you do with yourself?" Her laughter is contagious.

"So, spill, girlfriend. Who are you asking for Sadie Hawkins this year?" She asks, trilling the end of the sentence in a way that was both obnoxious and hilarious at the same time.

"Oh shoot! There's a dance!" You exclaim. A formal? Of course, there would be a dance. What's the point of doing a big high school show without a dramatic dance?

"Yeah, duh." says Crystal, interrupting your internal monologue. "And us ladies get to do the asking."

"Oh, I don't know." you say, stalling for time. "How about you? Are you going to ask anyone?"

"Well, I was thinking of Justin Lang but he was such a complete dick to Sarah when she went with him to Homecoming that he is a down as a total loser in my book, you know, like Craig Mosowitz? I'm sorry, I don't care how big you think your dick is, I am not going to be sucking it just because you took me to Zumis for Alfredo, okay?"

You nod along, fast losing track of the slew of names and references as she gives a run down on the various boys who do not make the cut.

"What about Jules?" you ask. She gives you a bemused look.

"Jules is sweet but not what I'm looking for," she says. "Why? Are you thinking of asking him yourself? If you did, he'd probably just cream his pants before even getting to the front door." She sighs.

"No, I haven't really thought about who I'm going to ask." you say, absentmindedly as you and Crystal take a seat with your lunch trays.

"Face it, Brenna, we are doomed. All the boys in Mercer High are worthless," Crystal says in exasperation.

"You could ask one of the girls," you suggest with a sly grin. Crystal blushes but quickly recovers.

"Oh please. I'm already six feet tall, with no boyfriend and point guard on the basketball team. If I took a girl to Sadie Hawkins, my reputation might never recover." She immediately gives her meal, a beefy rice bowl you think, an angry stab with her fork.

"Well, your reputation would be just fine with me." You say softly. Her eyes flutter up and catch yours for just a moment.

"Thanks." she whispers softly, before continuing at her regular volume. "Anyway, who's next on the interrogation list, Detective Stevens?"

###

Cody Harris lives in a simple two story split-level on one of the nicer streets but peeking through the slates in his fence, you spy a glass greenhouse completely covered with condensation in his backyard. Ah, a heated indoor pool? That is fancy.

The swim team had the day off so you had wracked your brains for something to bring Cody but the best you managed was a bag of cookies from the grocery store. In your defense, they were nice cookies and you put a ribbon on them.

You ring the doorbell and Cody answers after a little bit. His face lights up when he sees you, the smile reaching from lips to eyebrows before he forgets himself and tries to play it cool.

"Hey." he says.

"Hey," you reply. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He leads you into the house, through the hallway into the sunken den where he flips off his Nintendo 64.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life," you say, offering the cookies. "I didn't have time to make you some but these are good."

"Thank you," he takes them, peeling back the plastic and snagging one. "You really didn't have to," he says through a mouth full of cookie.

"So, how's the swim team going this year, are we going to make state?" You ask.

He shrugs, sprawling out on one of the sectionals of the couch. "I don't know. We've got a good team, it's possible. Coach thinks we can."

"That's great!" You sit down next to him, just close enough.

"I heard you were pretty close with Tom."

"Yeah, it fucking sucks man. Tom was good people. Plus he could do a 200 medley relay in a minute forty," he says, rubbing his face with his hands. "That's a really good time," he explains.

"Do you know what was going on with him? Before, you know, the party?" Cody turns to you.

"Just usual guy stuff, you know. We were planning a camping trip when the weather got good. He was fighting with his girlfriend, well, both of them. But that was nothing new," he stops, and thinks for a moment.

"Now that I think about it, the day before the party, he was freaking out about something. He called me, mom picked up before I could get to it, but he seemed like he was scared, or something. The connection wasn't good so he must have been calling from a pay phone. He said he needed to get in touch with Dylan, something about his sister, but I couldn't get it out of him. I told him I'd tell Dylan as soon as I saw him. But when I came over for the party the next day and asked him about it, he had no idea what I was talking about."

Cody shakes his head. "But that was fucking Tom alright, would forget his own pants if he hadn't already put them on."

"Look at me, wasting your time bitching and moaning. I'm sorry, do you want something to drink or eat?" He goes to offer you a cookie and then, mid offer, remembers that you brought them to him.

You hear footsteps behind you.

"Oh, Cody dearest, I didn't know we had company!" A breathy woman's voice calls. You turn and see a tall, full-figured woman dressed in skin tight exercise clothes standing at the entrance to the den.

"Hey mom, this is Brenna, she's... uh..." Cody fumbles to describe you as the two of you stand to greet his mother.

"Beautiful!" his mother exclaims, sweeping forward to cup your face with her hand. "Look at those eyes, and that hair." She clicks her tongue. "You must have to keep the boys back with a stick."

"Mommmmmm." Cody groans. "Can you not?"

"It's not my fault that the only classmates you bring over are all those sweaty boys in your swim team. It's good to see a pretty face once and a while. And more than just a face!" she takes a step back, making a show of taking you in.

"Mom!" Cody barks. "Can you just grab us a couple sodas, please?"

"Forgive me for just taking an interest in your friends," she says with a huff, retreating to the kitchen.

"So that's your mom," you say with a bit of a smile. Cody rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, she's a handful. Although she is great. Whenever I have a sleepover with the guys, she always helps out and even hangs out with us a bit. Guess having a single mom isn't that bad after all."

"I'm going to remember you said that," she says, reappearing next to the two of you on the couch with two Sprites. "I'm Nicole, by the way."

"Hello Nicole, I'm Brenna. And actually, I'm... working on a class project on the importance of..." you glance over her shoulder at the row of blenders in the kitchen. "... of nutritional health for women and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions later."

Her eyes light up. "Yes please! Oh, you have come to the right place." Cody gives her a little bit of a glare. "But I'll leave you two lovebirds alone for right now."

"Mom, we just met." Cody says exasperated.

"Actually, more than that," you say. "Cody saved my life yesterday."

Nicole gasps. "My Cody?"

"Yes, a truck nearly hit me on the road but Cody pushed me out of the way." She turns, looking accusingly at her son. "You never told me that."

"It wasn't a big deal." he says, apologetically.

"It was a big deal to me." you say, taking his hand. He blushes but doesn't let go. Nicole, wisely, reads the room.

"Well, let me know when you want to talk, I'll be upstairs. Safely out of earshot," she says with a wicked laugh and vanishes up the stairs.

Cody turns to you. "So what do you want to do now?"

You glance over at his gaming setup. "How about a little Mario Kart? I think I could whoop you at that."

He grins, pulling out the game and uncoiling the extra controller.

"You are on!"

The two of you sit side-by-side, legs barely touching as you and he fire shells back and forth.

"So this party on New Years Eve, sounds like I really missed out?" you say.

"Oh man, it was awesome," he says, as he edges you out for first place on the Koopa Troopa beach. "Tom's got this big house, well, his parents house anyway. It's like a giant gothic mansion, you know? Scooby doo style with suits of armor and I swear there are some secret passages or something there. So it's got a big backyard and then stairs down to the water, with a view of Seattle. It's incredible."

"Did a lot of people show up?" You ask.

"Oh yeah, it was packed," he glanced over towards you, slightly guilty. "Sorry you didn't get to go."

You lean forward, letting your shirt dimple and he promptly runs his Kart straight off the track and into the water.

"Any juicy drama go down at the party?" you ask. Cody grins.

"Oh man, it was wild. Both of Tom's girlfriends showed up."

"What?" you ask. "How'd he end up with two girlfriends?"

"Yeah, that was Tom. Always popular with the ladies. He and Jessica, she's on the drill team, they've been together for a few months but I know he was seeing Clarissa on the side. They have pottery class together and she's a real artsy chick, you know?"

He shakes his head.

"That night, Clarissa and Jessica both showed. Dylan and Matt tried to keep them separated but Dylan had his hands full with Busy Lizzy... uh Elizabeth Lewis," he corrects himself.

"Anyway, I was downstairs playing ping pong with Chad, you know Chad?" You nod absentmindedly. "And Tom comes blitzing down the stairs, all pissed off at Matt. I tried to ask him what was going on but he heads out the basement door."

You finish the race but Cody is still holding the controller, lost in thought.

"I followed him out there and he was shouting about Jessica being a bitch. I asked him what the hell was going on, and he said that my mom should know." Cody shakes his head.

"All my friends talk to my mom, she's like their favorite big sister that they can all share with."

"I said tell me about it, but he said he was going to cool off at the boathouse." He gives a little guilty grin. "We'd stashed an extra bottle of Jim Bean at the boathouse down by the water, so I give him space... I give him space," he repeats softly.

"And that's the last time I saw Tom," his voice cracks a little. You lean in and wrap your arms around him. He takes a few shuddering breaths and then straightens up.

"Sorry, Brenna, I barely know you and here I am getting all choked up. Pretty lame, huh?"

You shake your head.

"Not lame at all. You're cool." He nods gratefully.

"Wanna play another race?" He asks.

"Sure, I've got time for one more. And might even let you win."

###

After the race, you could tell he was crushing on you because he hopped up to hand you your coat.

"Hey... uh.. if it's not a big deal, but could I get your number?" he asks, awkwardly.

"Just in case I decide to go walking near traffic again?" you smile at him. "Let me get it for you, we've got a new number."

You peel open your trapper keeper and find the phone number on the inside next to your address. He scrambles in the kitchen for a scrap of paper and writes it down.

"Cool." he says.

"Cool," you answer back. "See you at school?" you ask.

"Oh, you are leaving?" you hear from the top of the stairs. Nicole appears in a completely new outfit, this time, a skin tight beige dress.

"Yeah, I've got to get going," you say.

She swiftly glides down the stairs.

"Well, you simply must stop by again, I would love to help with your school project, or whatever else you need," she says, softly touching your shoulder.

"Thanks," you answer awkwardly. "Bye," and with that, you duck out the door and into the light drizzle of the pacific northwest afternoon.

###

The haunting vocals of the Chromatics can be heard outside as push open the grimy off-white doors of the 'Mat. The band started at seven and it is already packed to the gills with a mix of young adults, dancing, drinking and shouting to be heard over the trilling guitars and the pounding of the heavy duty washing machines.

"You made it!" Crystal ambushes you before you even make it to the rickety plastic tables that ring the dance floor. You see Jules standing next to one of those tables, giving an awkward wave.

Crystal ushers you over, plowing through the sea of dancers, talkers and those waiting for their drinks or laundry tokens.

"Aren't they great?" she says as the band wraps up another crooning song. "Everyone is here!"

Scanning the crowd, you vaguely identify half-a-dozen students from your classes during the day. Up near the front of the dance floor, you see Dylan and Matt from the swim team, pushing a couple of girls in rolling laundry baskets through the crowd.

Jules hands you a drink and you take a sip. Beer, cheap beer at that. At least it is cold.

"They sell beer here?" You say, incredulously.

"It's a laundromat," Jules says with a smile. "You can't do laundry without beer!"

And with that, the band kicks it off with another loud set. For the next twenty minutes, you have shouted conversations with your friends but after a while, you tire of that.

"I'm going to take a look around." You say.

You make your way up to the balcony. The second story had a number of rope pulleys stretching across the length of the ceiling with drying sheets pinned to them.

"They are bloody well committed to the bit, aren't they?" Detective Morris, dressed in a nondescript black sweater, is lurking in the corner of the balcony.

You smile and start to reel in one of the sheets, a pale blue cotton queen. "Need some fresh sheets?"

He shakes his head.

"Not today, love."

"Then what brings you to the 'Mat tonight? It can't be the music."

"You've got me there, not really my scene, this." He gives you a warm look, "Just enjoying the scenery, really."

You give yourself a mental pat on the back for trading out your demure school outfit for a forest green top with plunging neckline and a ruffled skirt that accentuated your hourglass figure.

He lets the moment linger before pointing down at the crowd.

"At the moment, those two have my attention," he points to Matt and Dylan. "Those two, and him."

You lean in close, feeling Morris' body against yours, and follow his gaze.

Across the dance floor from the students, tucked near the fire exit, a twenty-something man with a leather jacket, a scar on his brow and a scowl to match, stands. He's watching the two boys, and all their shenanigans, very closely.

"Is he a bouncer?" Morris shakes his head.

"He's not with the club..."

"... laundromat..."

"Right. Also, look at his hands, see how he always has one hand in his pocket?"

You lean back into the Detective, and you feel his tight pants pressing into your backside.

"Mmmmhmmm." You say. Morris leans in close, whispering in your ear to be heard over the music, his breath hot on your skin.

"I think he may have a gun in there. Or drugs."

"Oh! Do you think he's Billy?" You ask. "Maribeth freaked out about Billy."

"Did she now?" He clucks his tongue. "You've been a busy girl, love."

"I have, and so have you." You say finishing off the last of your beer and turning to face him. "Where were you today?"

"At the Seattle immigration and naturalization center," he says. "Wading through piles of paperwork looking for more information on the Jovanovic family."

"You think it was something having to do with his parents?" You realize you had been so caught up in the high school drama, you hadn't considered a broader motive.

The band goes into another blaring solo that causes both of you to wince.

"Want to go somewhere where we can talk?" He asks. You nod and he takes your hand, leading you to a discrete white door marked "dry cleaning" at the back of the balcony.

Inside, the room is dark and filled with all manner of strange machinery.

You hop up on a table next to a sink, clearly intended for ironing and arrange your skirts.

Morris gives you a cocky grin, enjoying the eyeful of leg.

"So, spill, what'd you find out about the family?" You ask.

"Oh, I'll get to that." He says, "But I have a rare opportunity here and I am not going to waste it." He saunters in close.

"See, I've seen lots of things in my time. Knobs who thought they were talking to God, mad right wankers who blow up cars outside of churches, daft blokes chopping up their neighbors with a hatchet. But I've never seen one single shred of proof of anything supernatural in this world."

He puts his hands on the table bracketing your legs and putting his hips right between your knees.

"So tell me, Brenna Stevens, what makes you believe you have 'visions'?"

"I see what I see. I don't always know what they mean but I know they are true. And if you can't trust your own mind, then what can you do?"

"Now that's a question for someone above my paygrade. But truly, seances of the great beyond?" He gives huff. "I find that hard to believe, no matter how beautiful the medium."

You smile at the compliment. "That's the thing about this gift, I don't have to convince you or anyone else that it exists. It simply is."

"Is that so?" He says, leaning in, his face almost touching yours. "I have to say, I like the confidence, love."

"You don't have to believe in my abilities, Detective Morris," you say, "you just have to believe in me," and with that, you lean in and kiss him.

His lips are soft and he pulls you to him. You moan softly in his mouth as he grabs your butt, pulling your body to him.

"This seems like a bad idea..." he says, coming up for air. "But I don't care. I need you." and he pulls you in for another kiss.

You wrap your arms around him and lock your legs behind his hips, grinding into him. He groans, savoring the taste of your lips and pulling at your hips lustily.

Reaching down, you stroke him through his pants, feeling his throbbing hardness straining against his jeans.

"Oh love, you best go easy there or this party is going to pop off quick." He groans in frustration. "Let me help you out a bit." He pulls your shirt over your head and quickly unhooks your bra. He takes a moment to savor the view of your full breasts before diving in, raining kisses down from your collarbone to your hardening nipples.

"Uhnnnnnn." you moan as he draws them into his mouth, squeezing your breasts and teasing them with his tongue, leaving you breathless.

You feel his hands between your skirts and you lift your hips as he pulls down your panties onto the floor. Your sex is wet and opening to him as he traces the outside of your lips with his gentle fingers and then pushes inside, reaching the perfect spot.

You gasp, quivering before him as he works you faster and faster with hands.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck." You gasp, your chest heaving as you feel your whole body tighten around his skillful fingers.

"Cum for me love," he breathes in your ear and you feel it overwhelm you in a gush; a shuddering climax that has you bouncing up and down on the table and soaking your ruffled skirt.

"Agghhhh!!!" you shout, your orgasmic cry carrying over the pounding din of the music and the washing machines.

He releases your sex, gently and holds you in his arms as the aftershocks of the orgasm shudder through your body.

"There, there, doll, you're alright." he says soothingly. You shake your head.

"Not yet, I'm not." You push him and turn around, pressing your body onto the table and baring your bottom to him.

"Fuck me - hard."

You feel his hot hands on his hips and the jangle of his belt hitting the floor. Then you feel it, wide and thick, his uncircumcised cock pressing into your wet sex.

You whimper, as he pushes his way inside, pulling at your hips urgently.

"Yes, yes, fuck yes!" You cry out as he starts to pound away, pulling at your hair and driving you into the table hard and fast.

"Oh god, so good." he moans almost to himself as his thrusts get more urgent, deep and quick.

Suddenly, he pulls your hips to his, pressing himself all the way inside you and you feel his balls jump and he gives a low throaty groan as he shoots load, after load, deep inside your pussy.

"Uhhhnnnnnnnnn... " he moans in a voice thick with satisfaction. "Fucking hell,"

For a moment, he stays there, pressed against you and the table, before finally pulling himself up and sliding out of you. He helps you up and offers a nearby towel which you use to clean yourself up somewhat as the two of you get redressed.

"Sorry, love, got a bit carried away there. Probably shouldn't be consorting like this on the job."

You give him a flirty lip bite. "I won't tell if you don't. But we might have to do that a few more times to help me remember."

"Bloody hell, you are a handful." he says with a grin.

"So, the Jovanovic family?" you ask, and he laughs.

"Relentless too, I like that." He tilts his head, listening. "Sounds like the band has let up, let's see how things are out there and I'll tell you what I found out."

The two of you, after carefully peaking out to make sure no one was watching, sneak out of the dry cleaning room and head back to your perch on the balcony.

"Immigration office had quite a story to tell," says Morris. "Seems that Stojan Jovanovic, that's the father, was quite close with Slobodan Milosevic, right before the fall of Yugoslavia." Morris looks at you somewhat expectantly.

"Good god, you Americans are piss poor at this. If it doesn't happen in the states, it doesn't matter does it?" he says snarkily.

"I know that Yugoslavia is... a country." you say.

"Wrong there too, love. It was a country, now it is like five countries. They are still shooting each other about it right now. The point is, Milosevic was a bad man, tin pot dictator. Thought himself Chairman Mao and the Jovanovics were right there in the thick of it. At some point, Daddy Jovanovic wants out so he applies to the state department but there's restrictions in place. You can't just up and leave, no matter how friendly you are with the states. So it takes a year and they finally get four visas, mommy, daddy, Tom and Maribeth."

Morris shakes his head. "I got the impression that some money changed hands because the paperwork was messy as all hell and missing in places, specially about the kids, but Stojan made it happen and moved the whole family to Mercer Island here."

"So how does that fit with Tom's murder?" you ask. "You think it is someone from Yugoslavia trying to settle an old score?" Morris rubs his head.

"Possibly, worth asking if anyone has family from the area." Suddenly Morris is peering over the balcony.

"They are gone!" he shouts, pointing. You scan the crowd, no Matt and Dylan. And no Billy.

"Fuck!" He shouts and the two of you race downstairs.

"There you are!" Jules says as you race up to the table. "We thought you might have left." Crystal gives Detective Morris a once over, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

"Helloooooo." she whistles at him. He ignores her.

"Matt and Dylan, where'd they go?" you ask, frantic.

"The swim bros? I think they headed out the back about ten minutes ago." You and Morris race out to the parking lot but there's no sign of any of them.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Morris says. "A real bad feeling."

You arch your eyebrows. "Almost an intuition?" you ask, "Maybe a vision of sorts?" you say, laughing.

"Oh sod off." he mutters.

###

It's pitch black but you can hear a roaring, echoing cacophony all around you, like being stuck in a tunnel full of traffic but being unable to see or touch anything.

There, distantly, over the noise you hear the sound of moving water and the howling becomes more clear - wind in the trees making a furious noise. But more than that. Underneath the groaning of the branches, there is a voice.

Screaming in pain.

You are running, your legs treading empty air in the void. Trees appear, poplars surrounding a giant twisted madrona, next to a small pond. You float towards them, the madrona looming larger and larger.

You feel your feet touch ground, the squishy mud next to the pond and you stare down into the murky water.

You see movement in the pool. A face, in the water. Matt? One of the swimmers, but his mouth is open and he's screaming beneath the surface - but nothing comes out.

You reach into the water, wincing at the ice cold temperatures and grasp his hand, trying to pull him towards the surface.

As you pull, you notice that the water is shifting from gray to blood red. Your hands are coated in blood, your feet are in the pool of blood until you are holding aloft his severed arm, still dripping.

You scream and drop the limb back into the bloody pool, stumbling away from the liquid. The howling noise in your ears increases and you see movement on the edge of your vision. Turning, you see a figure crouched in the limbs of the madrona, barely moving.

You scream -- but no sound comes out. Your lungs heave but there's nothing but the roaring of the void in your ears. The figure moves, flickering in the branches. It looks human but its limbs are too long and the joints are in all the wrong places. Its skin is made of thick bark and its fingers are bloody claws.

Its chest is cracked open, the bark puckered in parts to reveal a dark, sinewy heart exposed to the air, glowing a faint red and beating a deep drumbeat above the roar. You search its face, trying to discern what this creature is but the mouth and cheeks are covered with thick leathery hide mixed with bark.

But its eyes. Its eyes are human.

CLICK-CLICK-CLICK. HISSSSS. It shifts, moving off kilter, like a film with every third frame missing. It makes a clicking noise, like a windup toy and then a gush of steam being released as it swings from branch to branch and vanishes into the void.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your hands still dripping with blood.

"Where? I need to know where." You crane your neck, peering into the darkness. "Give me something!"

There! You see something, a gray mottled shape in the distance. You pull it to you and slowly it moves towards you.

You see rock. Sheer rock and gravel. Hewn steps, long flat stretches of stone. A quarry. You are standing at the bottom of a quarry.

You look up and from where you are standing you can see the very top branches of the madrona peeking over the edge of the quarry cliff face.

CLICKITY CLICK CLICK. HISSSSSsssss. You whirl around and there is the creature, loping across the quarry floor, coming straight for you.

You shout, and scramble backwards, throwing up your arms.

It cocks its head and emits a piecing BREET BREET BREET alarm klaxon as it races towards you. Its claws reach towards you, twisted pieces of bones blistering from its bark-covered hands. BREET BREET BREET!

It rakes across your forearm, gouging into your flesh, sending hot pokers of pain lancing through your body. You fall, tumbling backwards through the darkness.

...

"GAAAHHH!!!!" you shout. BREET BREET BREET! The alarm on your bedside table blares and you pound the off button in a panic, leaving a bloody thumbprint on the device.

You look, in confusion at your hand, tracing the drops of blood back to the three, parallel cuts on your forearm.

"What the fuck?"

###

Your mom was already gone, off to drive the school bus, so you gathered your things and ate your breakfast in relative silence, replaying the horrifying images from your vision over and over in your head. Finally it was time to go to school. You head down the stairs of your fourplex, ready to face the day.

"Careful out there, missy! There's a foul storm a-brewing." You nearly jump out of your skin. Standing underneath the stairs, at the dark entrance to the apartment beneath yours, is an older man with a white beard and a naval jacket.

A brown wood pipe is firmly grasped in his teeth and on his shoulder, a wooden seagull statue is precariously balanced.

"I'm sorry?" You say as he steps out into the gray morning light.

"There's something blowing in this morn, dark and dreadful on the rising tide." The seagull statue threatens to pitch forward but he adjusts his coat and it stays.

"Um, thanks. I don't think I'll be out on the water today..." you begin but he lurches forward and grabs your arm.

"I do be talking about more than just winter seas, lass. You are in the crows nest, do not turn away! A marooned sailor is the most dangerous animal there is, willin' to consort with all manner of beast and bird to escape!"

You wince in pain as he squeezes your brand new cuts from last night.

"Hey, hey!" Jules shouts, running over to you. "What the hell, man?" You tear your arm from his grasp and the old man toddles back towards his apartment door.

"Mind the water, missy. You can only reach the darkest coves at night!" he calls back to you, shutting his door behind him.

"What was that all about?" Jules asks, retrieving your backpack where you'd dropped it.

"I have no idea. Has he always been there?" You ask.

"The admiral? Yeah, he's lived here since before we moved in. Remember when we snuck a peak in his back door and saw all his seagull statues? He must have over fifty just in his living room." Jules gives a nervous look over his shoulder. "My dad said that he used to be the commanding officer at the Navy base just north of here but was discharged ten years back. No one around here knows what happened, but he's always been nuttier than a fruitcake."

Jules and you make your way to the edge of the parking lot and pause, waiting for Crystal to arrive. "Usually, he isn't this aggressive. Any idea what set him off?"

"I'm not sure - but I did have another vision last night."

"Was that before or after you snuck off to make out with the hunky British detective?" Jules says more than a little bitterly.

"So you agree, he's hunky," Crystal says, walking up.

"No, that's not..." Jules begins,

"Shut it - this is the no whining zone." Crystal drawing a little circle with her fingers. She turns to you. "You had a vision? Spill, B."

You quickly bring them up to speed.

"I know that quarry," Jules says, his criticism of your love-life already left behind as the mystery consumes the three of you. "It's over in the big state forest on the other side of the island. I used to shoot off bottle rockets there in middle school."

"So what about the rest of it?" You ask. "Is it literal or symbolic?"

Crystal shrugs. "I guess that depends entirely on whether or not Matt shows up for classes today."

"Uh... what are those guys doing there?"

As you crest the hill and make your way down to the high school, you see two black vans labeled "Department of Defense" parked in front of the school. Several men in flak jackets, some of them armed, some of them carrying what looked like geiger counters, are intercepting students on the school steps and asking them questions.

"Oh fuck that noise." You say causing Crystal to snort and Jules to give a look of mild shock. "I know how these things end for people with psychic powers and I am not getting hauled off in a black van."

"What the hell, Brenna?" Crystal asks.

Jules nods. "No, that's quite reasonable. It happens in movies all the time."

"Thank you Jules." You say.

"So what are you going to do?" Crystal asks.

"I'm going to that quarry to figure out what I'm supposed to see there."

"It's on the other side of the island, you want to take my bike?" Crystal asks.

"Bikes. Of course. I guess cars are out of the question." You grumble. Jules rolls his eyes.

"You had your license taken away, remember? After the whole ramming incident last year?"

"Oh... yes, I'd love to borrow your bike," you tell Crystal. She directs you where to find it.

"Try to run interference if Principal Sheffield comes asking," you say as the two of them head down to the high school while you swipe the bike and start pedaling

###

Getting to the quarry involves more uphill than you care for so you are plenty winded by the time you arrive. Carefully tucking the bike and your backpack off the gravel road, you make your way down to the quarry floor, picking your steps amongst the slough of gravel and larger boulders.

From the floor of the quarry, you can see the tale-tell signs of teenagers and troublemakers. Beer cans, some of which sporting bullet holes. Plenty of bike tire tracks.

Closing your eyes, you recall the dream. Turning slowly around, you look for the upper branches of the madrona tree. There! You spot the distinctive red bark peaking over the edge of the cliff face.

It takes a good twenty minutes to make your way back out of the quarry, and another thirty to pick your way through the thick woods to find the Madrona tree.

The ground is wet and thick with moss and mud. Squelching steps take you through the muck to the edge of the pond you saw in your vision.

Immediately, you are seized with an overwhelming feeling of dread. A desire to drop everything and flee as fast as your feet will take you away from this place. The trees seem to press in on you, closing you off and smothering any sound you would make.

But the pond. It is still and smooth as glass. Carefully, you step to the very edge, causing a ripple, stirring the water.

A human arm slowly floats towards the surface.

You scream! Stumbling back you see movement in the tree above you.

You turn, and see, just for a moment, an outline of something but it is gone before you can fix it in your mind's eye.

Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you find a stick nearby and carefully poke into the water, catching a hold of something. You pull and the rotting body of Matt rolls over beneath the surface of the water, his face frozen in a rictus of horror.

"Oh fuck this!" you say, throwing down the stick and running from the woods.

###

By the time you bike up to the nearest gas station, you have calmed down enough to have your wits about you. Rummaging through your backpack, you find a few quarters and thanks to the yellow pages at the pay phone booth, you are able to get the main line to the Mercer Island High School office.

"Mercer High, Patricia speaking," the nasal voice comes through the receiver. Oh great, you think.

"Hi, I need to speak to Detective Morris," you say. Patricia clucks her tongue.

"Hmmm, seems like you'd be better off calling the Seattle Police Department." She drones.

"Look, Patricia, I know that he is there. Can you just transfer me over to him?" You can feel her angry stare through the phone.

"And who shall I say is calling?" She says, "I warn you, I am not in the mood for mischief."

Are you ever, you wonder. You put on your best serious voice. "This is his partner, now please, transfer the call, it is an urgent police matter."

She sighs and you hear a click, followed by an agonizingly long pause. Then Morris' aggrieved voice came on the long.

"Look, I don't know who the bloody hell you think you are, but I don't have a bleeding partner..."

"Hold up, it's me." you say.

"Brenna?" His voice suddenly hushed. "Where the hell are you? I have bloody g-men crawling all over this place looking for you. Something about an escaped detainee from Bangor?"

"I don't know anything about that but I've found one of our missing suspects. Matt. His body is in a pond out by the quarry on the other side of the island."

"Bollocks. How do you know that?" Morris asks.

"I.. saw it in a vision," you reply meekly. "But it doesn't matter how I know, the point is, his body is there. It's in a pond underneath a madrona that you can see from the base of the quarry."

There's a silence on the other end of the line.

"Morris?" you ask.

"Yeah, love, I'm here." There's another pause. "Did you touch anything?"

"Uh... " you think about your muddy footprints all over the site, your fingerprints on the big branch right next to the pond.

"I'll take that as a yes." He says, gritting his teeth.

"But it couldn't have been me that killed him, I was..."

".... With me last night?" Morris responds. "Yeah, let me just write that up in the police report, love. Fucking hell."

He takes a moment as the seconds tick down.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. First, you make yourself scarce for today. Don't come to class, don't go home. Keep yourself busy as long as you can without worrying your mother, alright? I'll get the local PD out there to fish your boy out of the lake. Forensics will take at least a few days, so we'll have to work fast to find the killer. And god, Brenna, if you are taking me for a ride..."

"I'm not! I promise." you protest.

"Okay." You say. "And Morris?"

"Yeah, love?" he answers.

"Whoever did this? They cut his arm off."

###

Getting to the Jovanovic family home required slipping through the trees next to the iron gate that blocked their private drive and making your way through the scattered trees, grass and landscaping. The house, a beautiful Victorian three-story perched on the edge of the Puget Sound. With the curtains mostly drawn and the garage closed, the drab colors of the siding gave the impression of a dark brooding creature, slumbering on the edge of a cliff.

Circling around to the back of the house, there is a broad grassy backyard, a gazebo and wooden stairs tracing switchbacks down the cliffside to the beach.

As you make your way towards the water, you glance back at the house and catch a flicker of movement- a face quickly vanishing behind a curtain on the second floor.

Have you been spotted? You briefly consider fleeing but having already committed this far, you weren't going to bail before seeing the scene of the crime.

The stairs lead down, along the crumbling stone cliff face, to the cold rocky puget sound coast. Standing on the shore, you can see the scattered developments south of Bellevue, only a few years before the big Microsoft boom would completely transform the area into endless upscale housing. For now, it looked more like your own Kitsap coastline, but without the mountains of course.

Next to the bottom of the stairs, there is an aging boathouse with a skiff and two kayaks tied up beside it.

You scan the area, looking for some indication of where the body was found but alas, no chalk outline was to be found.

You try the door on the boathouse and are pleasantly surprised to find it open. Stepping inside, you see a futon couch, a small messy table, a bookshelf, a small tv and vcr, and of course, several life vests hanging on pegs on the wall. Glancing at the mess on the table, you see a tray with crumbs of what could have been a sandwich, a tide chart and a couple of nautical maps, a bird spotting guide and a pair of binoculars. Hardly radical but you note it all in your trapper keeper.

You leave the boathouse and begin making your way down the beach, looking for signs of conflict or something to indicate police activity but it is the usual gravelly sandy mud of the Puget Sound coast.

As you round a bluff on the private beach, you see a small cave ahead, buttressed by tidepools and a fallen tree dripping with seaweed. The tide is up and you cannot get to it but as you approach, you feel that icy piercing sensation of dread, as if every instinct in your body was screaming to run but your feet remain anchored on the rocky shore.

Dimly, you hear laughter, cackling in your ears but when you turn around, there's nothing but slopping sounds of water.

You take a slow, shaky breath, and make your way back up the stairs.

"Good morning, young lady. I'm going to assume by your lack of a motor vehicle that you are not here to rob me. Therefore, might I inquire what brings you to my residence today?"

An older man stands at the top of the stairs blocking your path back to the house and yard. His thick eastern european accent does not interfere in the slightest with his impeccable grammar, but the light tone is underscored by the stern look on his features. He's wearing a fashionable raincoat and is leaning on an ornate cane.

"Hello Mr. Jovanovic? My name is Brenna, I'm a student reporter and I'm doing a story about Tom. Would you be willing to talk to me about him?"

His features soften for a moment. "Of course," he says softly. "Come, let's sit. I fear the rains are coming again." With that, he makes his way back towards the house, with only the faintest signs of a limp, his cane clicking along the cobblestones as you enter the double doors to the dining room.

The interior of the house is like something straight out of, well, a murder mystery. Every nook and cranny is crammed with ornate furnishings - art, sculpture, rugs, trinkets, wrought iron inlays. Mr. Jovanovic leads you past the dining room, set for four, to the parlor where he comes to rest on a high backed barcalounger. He gestures towards the settee next to him.

Lamely, you fish out your trapper keeper and multi-colored pen. Clicking down the purple ink, you get ready to take notes.

"Your house is very beautiful, Mister Jovanovic, you have so much beautiful art." He smiles, a melancholy one but genuine.

"They are. When I came from my home country of Yugoslavia, it was a time of great... turmoil. I did not want these beautiful things, the treasures of my people, to be lost in the dark days to come. So I brought them with me."

"Wow." You say, making an effort to scribble something down. "When did you and your family come to America?"

"It was three years ago, although it took a while to get everything in order. My wife, she's a doctor, so she was able to secure work easily but it was difficult to get papers for Maribeth and my... Tom."

"What was Tom like growing up?" you ask, noting his stumble. Mr. Jovanovic fidgets with his cane, clicking it in and out of its sheath. Sheath? You see the glint of a blade beneath the handle. The handle which looks very familiar.

"Oh Tom has always been an outgoing child. Filled with delight at the world. When he was ten, he was fond of running through the woods near our home and scooping up every wild forest creature he could find and bringing them to me. His mother was less amused by these antics but it was his sister that ended up with a marten in her bed one morning." He chuckles.

"What do you miss most about him?" you ask. Mr. Jovanovic stirs, reflecting for a moment.

"He was such a joyous child, I miss... I miss his laughter." Distantly, you hear movement above you.

"Oh, is Mrs. Jovanovic home?" you ask, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. Mister Jovanovic glances behind you at the stairs in the grand hallway but does not move from his seat.

"No. She is at work at Swedish on First Hill. It is the wind." He said with finality.

"When did you learn that he passed?" you ask, and in a flash, Mister Jovanovic's eyes gleamed with anger, his mouth turning to a bit of a sneer.

"You Americans and your euphemisms. When he 'passed'? When he was murdered, you mean? When someone clubbed him in the head like a wild Svinja and pushed him beneath the water till his lungs filled up with water? That is what you mean, is it not?!"

He springs to his feet, turning away and staring out the window. After a moment, he speaks, his voice once again low and measured.

"It was not till morning when I returned. My dear Milla and I had taken a holiday in the mountains for New Years Eve but when we returned, we found the police here and our dear Tom had... passed."

He turns back to you, his features drawn and filled with sorrow.

"It was the worst day of my life. We had come to America to escape the violence of my homeland and yet it had followed us here. Is this truly the land of opportunity? Or is that just another western lie?"

"You say, it followed you here, do you believe his death had something to do with Yugoslavia?" He looks at you sharply.

"Who did you say you were with?" He says, his gaze pinning you to your seat like a beetle in a case.

"The student newspaper? The MIHS Islander?" You respond, gulping.

"Hmmmm." He says, then glancing out the window.

"Oh, it looks like my daughter has come home early from school. Do you know Maribeth?" He asks, casually.

Trying not to look panicked, you pick yourself up off the settee and close your trapper keeper.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Jovanovic, but I'm afraid I must be getting back to class soon." He gives you the faintest of smiles and click, click, clicks with his cane, walking over to escort you out the front door.

"Of course, Ms. Brenna." As the two of you make your way through the parlor, a painting catches your eye.

It showed a forest scene with a lanky creature standing amongst the trees. Its skin was covered with bark but its chest was open, revealing a beating heart.

"Oh!" you say, alarmed. "What is this painting of?"

"Ah," says Mister Jovanovic, clearly delighted to be speaking about his art. "This is by my grandfather, Paja Jovanovic. It depicts one of the folk creatures of my country, a Leshy."

"What's a Leshy?" you ask.

"It's a kindly forest creature, like one of your European faeries that your William Shakespeare spoke about. This one does not play tricks on mortals, it simply wants to live and be left alone. That's why its heart is always open, it is about vulnerability in isolation. I always found the painting to be rather peaceful."

"It's beautiful," you say, edging towards the door but before you can reach the doorknob, it flies open and Maribeth barrels into you.

"You!" she shouts. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"Language Mari, language." Mister Jovanovic tutts. "Ms. Brenna was just doing an article for your student paper."

"I didn't know you were on the student paper," she hisses.

"I am," you say simply. "Thank you for your time, Mister Jovanovic!" and you push past Maribeth and out the door.

You hear the door slam behind you and then footsteps.

You whirl around and Maribeth grabs the back of your head, pulling you to inches from her face.

"Listen, I don't know what the FUCK you think you are doing," her hand fishes inside your shirt and finds your nipple, twisting it roughly. You gasp, uncomfortably aware of how arousing the situation is.

"But you need to stay the fuck away from my family!" she hisses at you, her breath hot on your neck.

She traces your neck with her tongue, nips at your ear and then shoves you away, sending you stumbling backwards onto the gravel.

"Now get the fuck out of here," she says as you scramble through the grassy, trees and back to your bicycle as fast as you can, her mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

###

The bike ride to Cody's house takes you on a winding path through the island but you arrive at the simple two-story split level before the rain clouds deliver their promised showers.

As you deploy the kickstand on Crystal's bike, you notice a white van pulled into the cul de sac and park a discrete distance away. Is someone watching you?

You desperately try to quiet the thumping of your heart as you slowly turn and make your way to the front door with as much forced casualness as you can manage.

Deep breath. Maybe it is just the NextGen team. This is a new program, you are a generous customer. Just play it cool. Act normal.

You ring the doorbell, and after a brief moment, the buxom figure of Nicole appears, dressed in some sort of elaborate lounging robe.

"Oh my, Brenna! What a lovely surprise! You are just the person I need." She waves you in and you are grateful to step into her house and away from prying eyes.

"Come on up here," she leads you up the stairs, down a brief hallway to the master bedroom.

"Here, sit over there. I need a woman's opinion, especially one so fashionable and beautiful as you."

She disappears behind a Japanese patterned privacy screen and you hear the rummaging of clothes.

"Yes, well, you see Mrs. Harris..."

"Oh please, call me Nicole." She retorts with a giggle. "All of Cody's friends do."

"Nicole, I'm here because I am doing a story for the student paper..." you begin but she steps out from behind the curtain and you lose your train of thought.

"Is this too much?" She asks. "I got it at the store but I'm not sure if I like it."

The panty and bra set didn't quite match but they didn't need to. Nicole does a little pirouette in front of you.

"Wow." You say, lamely. "You look great!"

"You think so?" She chews her lip. "I can never tell. If I wear it on a date, well, I don't know what you know about these things but when a single mom re-enters the dating pool... people can be so cruel."

She grabs her stomach glumly.

"You are beautiful." You say reassuringly. She smiles, grateful, and vanishes back behind the curtain.

"See, this is why I need your advice. Women know. Boys? Boys can be rough or mean but women know."

You hear more fabric rustling.

"So, what did you want to talk about again?" She asks.

"Tom Jovanovic." You state.

You see her red curls peak around the edge of the curtain.

"Tommy? He was such a sweetheart. He and Cody were very close."

"I heard you and he were quite close." You say.

"Is that what people are saying now?" She says coyly, stepping out to reveal a matching mesh lingerie set.

She looks at you appraisingly, and then shrugs

"I'll admit it. I took him to my bed as a lover on occasion. He was... enthusiastic but unskilled. Does that shock you?"

You shake your head.

"I think if people care for each other," you begin, "why not bring each other pleasure? Life is hard enough as is."

Her eyes well up with tears of joy. "Oh you do understand!" She folds you into a hug, pressing your cheek into her bosom. "Sometimes, you just need someone."

You hold her for a moment to let her compose herself and then try your best to get the investigation back on track.

"On the night of the party, I heard you and Tom had a fight, can you tell me about that?" Nicole pauses, tears welling up in her eyes, as she clutches some sort of slinky outfit in her hands.

"Oh, it was such a dark day. You see, it was my birthday." She plops down on the bed beside you. "The worst birthday I've ever had."

"I spent all day inside, dwelling and moping. Knowing that each year, I get older, fatter, more ugly. Less worthy of love." The tears are now tumbling down her cheeks.

"I went to go see someone who... helps me out sometimes."

"A lover?" You volunteer but she shakes her head.

"A drug dealer!" she cries.

"Billy?" you ask cautiously. Her head whips around to you.

"Yes! You know him?" you nod and she continues.

"I went to his car shop, Minh's on second? I was hoping to buy some... firespores." She mutters the last part, but at your quizzical look, the rest comes tumbling out.

"Oh, you mustn't think terrible things of me but sometimes, when I'm very lonely, I buy some and give it to people who I want to be close to. Then they can't help but want to love me." She takes a few shuddering breaths and then continues.

"But Billy wasn't there. I checked at the 'Mat but someone there said he was going to be at the party at Tommy's house. So I got all dressed up and went."

She shakes her head. "Usually these sorts of things are exciting. Boys drinking and partying, who doesn't like a good time?" She gives a little breathy laugh but it quickly fades.

"What happened?" you ask.

"As soon as I got there, Tommy was stomping out. He was so angry. His girlfriend had been kissing his friend and he was furious. I tried to talk to him but he yelled at me. Told me I was ugly, worthless and a whore. He was... so cruel. I was so upset, I just left. It was the last time I ever saw him."

"Oh Nicole." you wrap her arms around her and hold her as she weeps. Finally she collects herself.

You put a firm hand under her chin and tilt her head up till you see her shimmering eyes.

"You listen to me," you say as firmly as possible. "You are beautiful, you are worthy of love. Sleeping with people doesn't make you any less of a person, to share your heart with the people you care about is one of the greatest joys in this world and no one, absolutely NO ONE has the right to make you feel lesser for doing that. You deserve all the love in this world."

You brush the tears from her quivering cheeks.

"Brenna, thank you so much. I... knew that a woman would understand me, understand what it is like." She leans in and kisses you. Her lips are soft and gentle, parting like a flower as your tongues tangle together.

She reaches back and unclasps her bra, letting it fall to the ground and you feel her full chest press against you as you cup her face, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her throat.

You press her back into the bed, as her hands snake under your shirt, rubbing your back as you kiss her neck and chest, your tongue tracing lazy circles around her pert pink nipples till they stand tall and firm in your mouth.

She groans in satisfaction, throwing a leg over your hips and grinding up against you as you pin her to the bed.

She cradles your head, arching her back to push her chest to you, her hands fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Needily, she pulls you back down to her, relishing the sensation of bare skin on bare skin as you rub together, kissing frantically.

"Oh yes, yes!" She moans, breathless, her hands roaming all over your body, squeezing your breasts and pulling you closer.

Your fingers find her panty-clad sex and trace the outline of her lips through the silk. Her hips buck in response, and she gasps noisily.

"Please, pleaseeeee," she moans, desperate. Sliding back off her, you pull her panties down revealing her cleanly shaven pussy, wet and inviting. You shimmy out of your skirt and underwear and then put her leg on your shoulder.

She looks confused for a moment as you position yourself and then start grinding your sex to hers, scissoring as best you can. The sensation is intense, the raw, wet feelings radiating pleasure as you rub together. Her gasps get louder and louder as she arches her back, pulling at your hips, trying to get more.

"Oh Brenna, I need you. I need... release." She cries out. You untangle yourself and bury your face between her legs. She shouts, grasping the sheets of the bed as you plunge your tongue into her waiting sex.

"FUCK!" she shouts, wrapping her legs around your head. You swirl your tongue faster and faster around her clit and she begs, and moans, and shouts. She cries out your name and beats the bed with her fists as you feel gush after gush of her excitement, as it builds and builds.

She grabs your hair, grinding your face into her sex and shouts, a wordless scream, her entire body taut as she cums in a flood.

"Ohhhhhh!" she groans but doesn't release you, still grinding her sex into your face. "Aahhhhhh!!" and with that, she cums again, another gasping climax that leaves her panting on the bed. Finally, spent, she gently pushes you away.

You flop down next to her on the bed, throwing a leg over her as she gently runs her hands through your hair.

"That was incredible Brenna, how did you know how... I've never felt anything like that before." she stammers, still off in la-la land. "Do you want me to..." she asks but you shake your head. You've got other things to do.

You lean in and give her a kiss, soft and tender. "You are worthy of love." you whisper in her ear and she absolutely shines, radiant, naked and filled with love.

Gathering your clothes, you glance out the window and notice the car is gone. For now.

You give Nicole one more soft kiss on the lips, gently fondling her breast before making your way out of the house. You hop on your bike, glancing up at the afternoon clouds that are threatening to pour rain.

###

The rain had arrived by the time you reach the gas station on second avenue and flip through the yellow pages in the phone book. The store clerk gives you an odd look but you pay him no mind. Thankfully, there is only one Simon Pendegrast living on the island and his apartment is nearby.

Unfortunately, the brief ride has left you completely soaked by the time you arrive at Simon's discrete condominium. Tucking your bike in the entryway, you knock firmly on the door, trying to squeeze some of the water out of your dripping skirt.

"Good God, Brenna, are you alright?" Simon Pendegrast is dressed in a soft sweater and waves you inside. "Come in, come in!"

Once inside, you take a moment to marvel at the sumptuous condo, with its interior stairs to a second floor, and soft wood paneling as Simon produces a towel from somewhere.

You gratefully take it and go to work on your hair.

"What's going on? I didn't see you at school today, I was afraid that the federal agents had scooped you up." You shake your head.

"No, I cut class and have been working on the case." His eyes light up with excitement.

"And tell me Brenna, have you had any visions lately?" He ushers you to the couch where he's laid out a few more towels.

"I have," you say and he snaps his fingers. "I knew it! Last night, my EMF detector registered a 9.7, by far the highest reading I've ever recorded. I knew that there was some sort of psychokinetic activity happening nearby," he pauses and glances over.

"I'm so sorry, my dear, I get carried away. Would you like a warm cup of tea? Or maybe to get more comfortable?" He slides the last comment in so casually, you almost miss it but you give him a warm smile.

"I'll take the tea for now," you say and he goes and puts a kettle on.

"So tell me of your visions and your investigations. Tell me everything."

You briefly bring him up to speed, as he takes diligent notes in a soft bound notebook, hanging on your every word. You walk him through both visions, the heart and then pond where you found Matt. You conclude with what you discovered at the Jovanovic household but leave out your encounter with Nicole, simply to be discrete.

He finishes with his notes as you sip the tea, feeling the warmth spread throughout your body.

"A real Leshy, here in Washington," he murmurs. "My recollection is similar to Mr. Jovanovic, they are peaceful forest spirits. Perhaps someone has found a way to bend it to their will."

"That would match what I saw in my vision - the snake squeezing the heart. Since Leshy has an exposed heart, that would imply the sister is the one doing it. But why kill the friend?" Simon makes a few notations in his notebook and then looks back up at you.

"We simply need more information. Would you like to use the machine?"

"The machine?" You ask. He looks at you, slightly perplexed.

"Yes, when you first came to me and shared what had been happening with you, during the Halliwell case last year, we worked to see if we could intentionally activate your abilities during the day."

"Oh!" you say. "We, had a... thing."

He gives you a smoldering look. "We did. We do, I think," as he absent-mindedly rubs your thigh.

"Sure, let's give this a try," you say. He grins. "The machine, I mean."

"Of course," he quips. "Come with me."

He leads you to another room, lined with VHS tapes, televisions, tesla coils and shelves and shelves of books.

He sits you down in a simple velvet covered chair and kneels in front of you.

"I think we will need to take your shirt off to get everything attached," he asks gently. Giving him a wicked smile, you pull it over your head, revealing your still soaked bra. You hear the soft intake of breath at the reveal as he adjusts himself before attaching a pair of diodes to your chest, and placing a metal circlet with wires to your head.

He adds cuffs to your fingers, and then fires up a series of displays, sending analog gauges whirling and little green dots jumping across a black screen.

"Just breathe normally," he says, adjusting a dial. You try to relax.

"Now, as you remember, we are going to send a slight current through to stimulate the prefrontal cortex of your brain..."

You gasp and the world dissolves around you.

###

You are walking on shifting sands. Rocks. Beach. There's the endless howling void around you but it seems... denser somehow than what you've experienced before. Like you are peering through a thin cloth, trying to see. You focus, willing the space to come into focus.

The grit beneath your feet churns and you see the gently lapping water of the puget sound. The Jovanovic beach. But not at day - during the night.

"Hey," you hear a voice behind you. You turn back towards the stairs and see Tom standing there. He's wearing a flannel shirt, completely open, and roughed up jeans. He's holding a beer and slowly walking past the boat house towards you.

"You're that girl from school. The Nancy Drew, right?" he says. You look around awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah. Hi, my name's Brenna."

He nods. "Hell of a party," he says pointing up into the void, presumably back towards the house.

He tilts his head, listening towards the boathouse. "Sounds like Busy Lizzy is having a good time."

He grins and comes over to where you are standing near the water.

"So, did you come here alone?" He asks.

"I... I think so?" Faintly, you hear a clicking noise. Like a tick-tick-tick just on the edge of perception. You look around nervously.

"Hey, it's cool if you crashed the party." Tom says, misjudging your anxious look. "You're welcome here. Besides, it's been kindof shit anyway."

"What happened?" you ask. He shakes his head.

"Nothing. Just some bullshit." He kicks some rocks. "This life is hard, you know? You can't just do it half-time. You have to fully commit. Maybe he's right about that."

"Who's right?" you ask but then the clicking sound comes again, closer and closer.

You whirl around and peer into the void, trying to discern movement in the howling darkness.

The cliffside comes into focus as your vision extends farther and farther down the beach, tracing the low tide line. Finally, you feel it before you see it. The cave.

A wave of nausea sweeps through you and you double over.

"Woah, you okay?" Tom reaches forward and takes your arm. For a moment, his face blurs and you see Simon peering at you with those intense eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" Simon says. You nod and concentrate on the vision, pushing yourself deeper.

The void sweeps back. You are on the beach and Tom is gone. You look around, the lights at the boathouse are off but it is still night.

But the cave. Without moving your feet, you are drawn towards it, sucked in by a powerful undertow. You tread your feet but it does no good, you hauled bodily towards the dark abyss.

The clicking gets louder, accompanied by a hiss of steam. You feel more than see, movement within the cave. There, in the darkness, you see a gleaming pair of eyes and a voice, deep and unearthly, echoes through the cave.

"There. I've found her."

The vision shatters and you tumble through the endless screaming voice.

###

You are gasping as Simon pulls the circlet from your head.

"You are here. You're safe." He says, brushing his hands through your hair softly as your heart pounds in your chest.

"It's okay. It's okay." he says soothingly, as you pull the diodes off your chest.

"Fucking hell." you mutter, gratefully taking the glass he hands you. You take a gulp, and cough, instantly regretting it.

"Sorry, it's Brandy. I thought it would help," Simon says apologetically. You blink the tears out of your eyes and take another sip, slower.

The booze does work its magic and carefully, the reality feels more real. The clinging wet of your clothes, the velvet of the chair beneath you, the warm comfort of Simon holding your hand.

"What did you see?" He asks.

"The night Tom was murdered. I was there. I interacted with him."

Simon's eyes gleam as he makes notes. "What did you discover?"

You shake your head. "I'm not sure. I have to think about it."

He nods, and then carefully bundles up his equipment, powering down the gauges and displays. "I think I've captured enough readings to keep me busy for the whole weekend," he says with a soft smile.

"In that case," you say. "I think I'm ready to get out of these wet clothes. Is there somewhere we both could go warm up?"

He takes you by the hand and leads you up the stairs to his bedroom, with a four panel bed, and soft tapestries on the wall. You reach up and pull him into a kiss as his lips find yours. Gently probing, you savor the sensation of each other, getting lost in the sweetness of each other's embrace as he artfully unlatches your bra, letting it drop to the floor.

Any other day, you would be content slowly building to a conclusion but after your encounter with Nicole, you are eager for some satisfaction.

Fumbling with his belt for a moment, you reach inside his pants and grasp his cock, already full and engorged. Pushing his pants to the floor, you give it several strokes, delighting in his gasps and moans as you pull at his balls and work the head with your other hand.

"Oh fuck, Brenna." He moans. You take pause as he sheds his shirt and push the rest of your damp clothes to the floor and spread out on top of his bed spread, naked and open to him.

He crawls between your legs, softly kissing and nibbling your inner thighs but you are already so ready. When he kisses your mound, and then dives his tongue inside your tender folds, you groan in frustration, grinding your sex into his face - urgent, needful.

"Enough." You moan, you are almost there. You pull up on his shoulders and he obliges, crawling up on top of you.

You spread your legs, like a flower opening to the morning sun as he reaches down and guides himself inside you. Oh to be so full!

He thrusts into you, taking time to grind his hips into yours, building that pleasure. You reach down and strum your clit as he begins a steady rhythm. Harder and deeper. You feel your whole body tense as you lock your legs behind his hips and hold him inside you.

"AAAhhhhhh!" the air rushes out of you as your orgasm takes you in a flash, clamping down hard on him as your hips buck. He holds tight and in a moment after yours, moans his release into your ear, flooding your pussy with his cum.

"Oh Brennaaa," he moans, relieved. The two of you spend a moment, together, with him still inside you, relishing the feelings. Deftly, he pulls the comforter over you and you drift off to sleep for just a moment.

###

It's past dinner time by the time you awake and the rains have stopped. Simon offers to give you a lift home but fearing your mother's questions, you decline and decide to bike home. Your clothes, freshly dried in his drier, feel brand new as you weave your way through the neighborhood streets back to your apartment complex.

Tucking the bike back at Crystal's house, you take the stairs two at a time and carefully open the apartment door.

"'Bout time you got home, sweetheart, I was starting to worry." Tammy calls to you from the couch.

"Hi mom." you say, depositing your backpack in your bedroom and coming out to sit next to her. She turns down the volume on a very young looking Alex Trebeck.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" She asks. You note the mostly finished beer in Tammy's hand, matching the other three cans on her side table.

"Everything's fine, Mom. Just seeing a friend." She gives you a skeptical look.

"A boyfriend?" She asks with a smirk.

"Mom!" you say, exasperated, the blush rising in your cheeks. She isn't even your real mom, how is this happening like this. You are a mom, you laugh to yourself.

Tammy holds up her hands in mock protest. "Okay, sorry I asked. There's some taco casserole on the stove for you," she says.

"Oh! And a man stopped by asking about you. He said he was from Bangor and he left his card. Something about a missing person?"

You take a look at the card - Darryl McGuinness, Department of Defense, Internal Investigations Division.

"Thanks Mom, I'll give him a call," you say, fully intending to do nothing of the sort.

"Okay, I'm going to finish up my show and go to bed. Don't forget to do your homework!" She calls after you as you retreat into your bedroom.

You haven't done a single piece of homework yet but it hasn't seemed to be a problem. The classes you've attended ask for things to be turned in but no one seems to notice when you don't have anything to contribute. Plus, you can fake the classroom discussions just enough to skate by.

You flop down on the bed, trying to sift through the day's adventures. Mr. Jovanovic's intense gaze. Tom's words on the beach. Nicole clutching the bed and gasping. The painting of the Leshy. Maribeth grabbing the back of your head. The gleam in Simon's eyes. The clicking noise.

Gah! You throw the pillow over your head and fall asleep.

###

You are being followed. The thought hits you like a thunderbolt before you even notice the howling void around you. Something is hunting you. You are running, out of breath, but it is relentless, slicing through the endless darkness and coming fast.

You look this way and that, trying to see what it is that follows you but your eyes find nothing to purchase on... until... there!

Sliding through the air like a blade through smoke, is a giant snake. Its mottled brown scales glint from some unseen light source. You run, hurtling through the space, you feet treading air. You try to focus, bring something into being, a wall, a house, a spaceship, anything to put a barrier between you and the snake.

There - a chain link fence materializes between you and the snake, with a metal sign hanging on it, "Bangor Military Base."

The giant snake approaches the fence, coiling upon itself and then speaks.

"Oh! She's being feisty." you hear a mocking voice call through the darkness. It sounds like Tom, but it shifts and could be Maribeth. Hell, it could be Crystal, with all the echoing here, it is hard to tell.

With a violent action, the snake tears through the fence and is on you in a flash.

"We will show her what happens to girls who meddle..." the snake hisses as it coils around your legs and hips. You struggle, frantic, desperate to escape.

"No!" you shout but as you scream, the snake shrinks and slides into your mouth and down your throat. You try to resist, gagging as you feel the violent intrusion. Your eyes roll back in your head and darkness consumes you.

###

You open your eyes, painfully aware of your cramping legs and arms. You are naked, outside in the clump of trees near your apartment.. Your clothes are ripped to shreds all around you. You are spread eagle and frantically masterbating, back arched, feet spread, hips off the ground.

"Uhgnnn! Ugghnnnn!" you cry, coming close but unable to find release.

Your arms and legs ache. How long have you been here, doing this? Try as you might, you cannot stop, frantic for release.

"Uggnnnn!" you moan in frustration, your hands moving faster and faster. You slap and squeeze your breast, desperate for stimulation.

"Oh god, Brenna, it's you. What's going on?" you hear your friend's voice, distantly.

"Brenna! Brenna!" Crystal forcibly shakes you, snapping you out of the trance.

"Wha... " your head feels like it has been stuffed full of cotton balls. You are only dimly aware of Crystal as she throws her jacket around your shoulders and brings you back inside her house.

You hear her voice babbling a mile a minute before you can process her words.

"We have to be quiet because my parents are asleep but I was up with that stupid fucking prologue of the Scarlet Letter when I heard what sounded like a raccoon or something skittering around and then a moaning noise. I thought maybe there was a hurt animal but it was you looking like you were fucking possessed... "

She stops suddenly and peers into your face.

"You aren't still possessed, are you? Taking any PCP?" She asked.

You look up and give her the faintest of smiles. "No, I think I'm okay."

"Good." She hands you some sweatpants and an old gym shirt.. "These are going to be impossibly long on you but at least it's something."

"Thank you. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Not the worst thing to see." She mummers into her lap. "I'm glad you are alright." She declares.

You tell her a bit about what happened, blushing when she teases you about Simon but noting her absolute undivided attention when you mention your encounter with Nicole.

"You mean to tell me that you had sex with a man AND a woman all in one day? Geez. And I'm here barely having kissed anyone and already a senior. High school blows." She flops down on the bed next to you in her pajamas.

"Jules is going to blow a gasket." Crystal says. "He's been dreaming about losing his v-card to you since the sixth grade. I keep telling him you are a lost cause."

Crystal pushes her brunette curls out of her face. "And there's no use being sad over lost causes." She says, mostly to herself.

You reach over to comfort her but she sits up suddenly.

"Speaking of Jules, he stopped by today. He finished his suspect board.

Reaching underneath her bed, she pulls out a large piece of cork board.

"Let's update it with what you learned today and see where that gets us."

Paper names, pictures and paper show the web of suspects around Tom. Dylan, Cody, and Busy Lizzy in one circle (friends) with Matt's picture clumsily crossed out. Another circle, labeled "dating?" included Jessica, Clarissa, and Nicole. Maribeth and Stojan occupied a third circle (family) and then Billy and Leshy floated out in space, unconnected to the web.

Having added the newest information you sit back and begin mulling over what you know:

"Means, motive and opportunity. Those are the basics. For opportunity, they needed to be at the party. That should rule out Mr. Jovanovic and Nicole Harris."

"She could have doubled back after leaving the party." Crystal offers.

"That's true, but he was killed on the beach. And there's no way a woman like Mrs. Harris would be able to sneak back through the party, through the grounds, without being noticed. She'd stick out like a sore thumb."

You squint at the question marks. "We need to fill in more blanks about what happened that night."

Crystal, who is pulling out the sleeping bag for the impromptu sleepover, pops her head up.

"So, who are we going to squeeze for answers tomorrow?" She asks.

You glance at the board. "We need to take more names off this board. Let me see about Clarissa next."