Alna arrived home after two long hours of tutoring. Now, to be fair, Alna did rather enjoy her job of helping kids and teenagers improve in school. This evening, however, she had been tutoring in a library. Out of the six teenagers she had been assisting, four were only there because their parents had forced them to be. Alna would say she felt astonished at their sheer lack of respect, but this was far from the first time she’d encountered such a thing.

  Walking through the kitchen, book in hand, Alna stopped to say hello to her father. As was usual for the Holt household, Dad was hard at work preparing supper for the family.

  “I take it Mom and Marianna aren’t home yet,” Alna said.

  Her mother had taken Marianna to go shopping for a graduation dress, seeing as she had not yet found one on the shopping trips with her friends. Alna felt slightly guilty for not accompanying them, but Marianna had assured her it was fine.

  Alna could tell from the look on Dad’s face that he knew this wasn’t a question, but he treated it as one, anyway. Without looking up from the large pot of soup he was stirring, he said, “Not yet, but Vicky texted me about a half-hour ago to say she and Mary were heading back. I’m guessing we’ll see them in a few minutes.”

  Stepping forward, Alna peered into the pot, keeping back just enough to avoid getting steam in her face. The liquid of the soup was a thick, brownish colour that showed Dad had added milk at some point. Various vegetables ranging from celery to tomato bounced around haphazardly as the liquid bubbled and swirled. So many smells emitted from the pot that it was impossible to classify one scent.

  As Alna retrieved a spoon from a drawer, she said, “All right, then. I’ll wait for them.” She scooped up a spoonful of the soup, earning a playful glare from her father. Instead of saying anything, Alna gave her father a challenging look before blowing on the spoon. Slipping it into her mouth, Alna tried to distinguish the multiple flavours assaulting her taste buds. She tasted a bit of carrot, but as for the rest, it was impossible to pick out one flavour.

  “Good?” Dad asked when Alna swallowed. He sprinkled a bit of sage into the pot as well.

  “It is,” Alna confirmed, going to sit at the table. Grasping her book, Alna flipped it open and began to read, deciding to keep herself entertained while she waited for her mother and Marianna to come home. She could go downstairs and do some research for her and Marianna’s current case, but considering she had spent over four hours doing so earlier, Alna figured she deserved a break. Supper would be ready soon, anyway.

  That, and Alna had found yet another suspect for her and Marianna to look into, after wasting some time doing more research on Parker Wyatt. Alna didn’t “like him for the murder,” as police said, but that didn’t mean she could afford to become careless.

  Setting down her book, Alna pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket. She turned it on and opened a website she’d saved recently. Just a few days ago, Alna had discovered a website that would allow her to do police training online. It wouldn’t allow her to become an officer, but it would prepare her for the police academy.

  If they accepted her.

  Dad left the stove and came over to stand by the kitchen table. Alna set her phone down so as not to be rude, leaning back in her chair to look up at him. Unlike his wife, Dad was looking quite alert these days, and not at all as tired as Mom could get. Thankfully, she wasn’t on call for the foreseeable future, as one of the other surgeons had taken on that role.

  Which was a good thing. Now she could get some rest and work more consistent hours.

  Picking up Alna’s book, Dad read the title, a grin appearing on his face. “A Vindication of the Rights of Women?” he read aloud, shooting her a teasing look. Alna gave him a bland look but had to keep her lips from curling up.

  “Indeed,” Alna replied, waiting for her father to say more. Which was exactly what he did.

  Setting the book down with care, Dad asked, “How do you even have the patience for this type of thing? I wouldn’t even make it past the first page.”

  As he went back to the stove, Alna rested her cheek on her hand and gazed at him lazily. She waited until he had turned enough to see her before speaking, an edge of reproach in her voice. “Surely, you cannot find politics boring.” She injected enough humour into her voice so Dad could tell she was joking.

  In return, he stepped forward, tugging on one of her raven locks. “Have to say I do.”

  Alna pretended to give him a sceptical look before allowing her expression to relax. Dad asked her to set the table, which she did without complaint.

  It was mere minutes later that Marianna and Mom showed up, just as Alna had placed the last of the cups on the table. Over her arm, Marianna carried a black garment bag with faded spots that showed it was secondhand. When Marianna had told her she was planning to buy her graduation dress second hand if she was able, Alna would admit to being sceptical. Of course, people brought many things to thrift stores; a graduation dress was hardly outside the realm of possibilities. Alna had seen them herself, after all. But finding one that both fit Marianna’s criteria (modest though it was) and was in decent condition, seemed like a long stretch.

  She should have known better, Alna thought as she took in Marianna’s glittering cerulean eyes and flushed cheeks. Much as she might appreciate it from time to time, Marianna was not the type of girl who needed extravagant gifts and items.

  Alna stood from her chair, observing Marianna fondly. A glance at her mother revealed a tired but pleased gaze, accompanied by an erratic ponytail that spoke of having been redone a few times.

  “The trip was a success, then,” Alna said.

  Behind the two women, Alna’s brothers appeared, sparing their mother and Marianna the briefest glance before pushing past them into the kitchen. They each climbed into a chair at the table, waiting for supper to be ready with obvious impatience.

  Dad went over to his wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gazing at her in concern. In response, Mom gave him a fond look, closing her eyes as she leaned against his shoulder.

  “It really was,” Marianna said. She approached Alna with a bounce in her step, although she didn’t hug her. Not with the dress between them. On instinct, Alna’s eyes darted down to the bag, betraying her curiosity.

  Marianna, noticing this, gave her a playful smile and hugged the dress closer to her stomach, as if to shield it from Alna’s prying eyes. Raising her eyebrows, Alna reached out to grip her elbow, listening to Marianna’s chatter as she guided her to the basement to put her new dress away.

  “We found it in a thrift store, so it only cost fifteen dollars. Which I still think is insane, since it must have cost at least a couple hundred when it was new. That’s what Tori said, anyway.”

  This continued until they had reached the bottom of the stairs, at which point Marianna stopped walking, forcing Alna to a stop. When she turned to face her, Marianna had a knowing look on her face.

  “You’ve got another project for us, don’t you?”

  “You know me too well.”

  ***

  Alna would admit that the role reversal felt rather strange, even after all this time. Of course, Alna had only been too happy to help Marianna learn to pick locks, but even still, being the one to keep watch while Marianna broke them into Peter Black’s basement apartment felt odd to her.

  She didn’t say this, however. As she closed the door behind them, plunging them into relative darkness, Alna gave her girlfriend an approving look.

  “Well done,” she complimented her in a low voice. “You’ve improved plenty since you began learning.”

  Marianna responded with a dismissive gesture, but looked pleased nonetheless. “Let’s get to it.”

  Alna conceded to this. She did, however, capture Marianna’s elbow, giving it a light squeeze to reinforce her earlier words.

  There was nothing remarkable about Peter Black’s apartment, unless one counted the fact that it was not one of the nicer lodgings in the city. Consisting of only four rooms, this was obviously meant to be the home of a bachelor––or, in this case, a man in the middle of an expensive divorce.

  The walls were all painted a light shade of grey that even Alna, for all that she preferred to wear neutral colours, found to be boring. In terms of personal effects, there were almost none, giving the impression that it was indeed only meant to be a temporary home. There was evidence of water damage in three different areas on the ceiling and the oven appeared so old and rickety, its white paint peeling back to reveal grey metal, that she wouldn’t feel overly surprised if it ended up exploding someday.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Saying nothing more––and indeed, without even looking at each other––Marianna and Alna each removed their shoes, placing them out of sight of the door. Still without speaking, Marianna set down her purse and headed to the kitchen. Alna went to the bedroom.

  That Black was struggling financially was apparent everywhere Alna looked. What immediately drew the eye upon entering his bedroom was the fact that Black had no bed. He had a mattress, at the very least, but no bed frame to support it. The mattress rested in one corner of the room, opposite from the curtained window mounted high in the wall. Blankets and sheets sat in a pile on top. The quilt on top was old-fashioned, consisting of different coloured squares stitched together. It was not what society would deem “manly.” That, combined with the slight wearing around the edges, convinced Alna that this quilt was second hand.

  The closet, positioned to the right of the window, comprised two white metal doors that didn’t seem to close as they should.

  Going over to the closet, Alna opened it, gloved hands shoving the doors aside with as much care as she could manage. Her caution proved in vain, as the doors made a loud rattling sound. Alna winced, instinctively glancing up at the ceiling despite knowing that would help nothing. She heard no sounds from the apartment upstairs and so pushed the doors open wider.

  The sound made Alna grit her teeth. She was unsurprised when she heard Marianna’s soft footfalls in the hallways.

  “Alna?” Marianna said a moment later. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Alna ground out, trying not to sound too annoyed. Marianna didn’t deserve her ire. “Everything in this apartment is cheap and it is not helping matters.” She twisted her head around so that she could look at Marianna, who was currently wearing a generic black baseball cap, her hair in a ponytail. As far as disguises went, it was far from the best, but the weather was nice enough to justify such clothing, meaning it wouldn’t automatically catch anyone’s attention.

  Marianna gazed at her for another moment, her expression telling Alna she wasn’t sure whether to be amused or sympathetic. Instead of deciding, Marianna arranged her face into a neutral expression. Her version of one, anyway. Alna could still see through with ease.

  “Well, I’ll get back to it, then,” Marianna said without inflection. Alna resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  There was nothing all that interesting in the closet. Black’s clothes were arranged by type: socks and underwear kept together and shirts kept in a small pile on one shelf. A pair of black dress shoes rested on the floor of the closet, but those didn’t interest Alna.

  No, what interested her was the white plaster scattered all over the carpet. White dust had settled over the shoes and carpet, gathering into small piles in the corner of the closet. With the way the dust had settled, it would be quite the challenge to gather it all with a vacuum later.

  What was especially interesting, however, were the concave holes in the back of the closet. Obviously caused by Black ramming his fists into the wall, the holes layered on top of one another, making it difficult to tell how many times Black had punched the wall.

  Interesting, Alna thought, how Black had thought to hide the evidence of his anger in a closet, of all places. Prone to bouts of violent rage, but practical.

  The small fleck of blood on the wall was also interesting, Alna supposed, although not very helpful.

  Stepping back, Alna pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the ruined wall. Perhaps she could send the images to the Brigate Crime Hotline, should she find anything else to go with it.

  Alna was just closing the closet doors with as much care as she could muster when Marianna’s footsteps sounded in the hallway once more. She finished closing the doors, leaving only a small gap, before turning toward her.

  “Hey, Alna?” Marianna asked in a muted voice as she appeared in the doorway. She looked disturbed but not alarmed. “I think I found something.”

  In response, Alna gestured for Marianna to take the lead and put her phone in her back pocket. Marianna turned back around, leading Alna to the kitchen. Like the rest of the apartment, it was in poor condition. The hazardous oven notwithstanding, the cupboards themselves needed a paint job, white paint peeling back to reveal the brown wood.

  Marianna went over to the oven, which she had left open. As Alna crouched next to her, she pointed inside. “See that?”

  Alna did. Inside the oven, resting on top of the heating element, was what appeared to be a fabric of some kind. Black had obviously tried to burn it, as the fabric was blackened almost past the point of recognition, creating a small pile of equally black ashes at the bottom of the oven.

  Well, Black wasn’t as smart as Alna had initially thought. What kind of idiot––

  Alna clenched her jaw, cutting her rant off as she checked to see if the oven was on. It didn’t appear to be. The indicator light was dark.

  “Would you mind checking if anyone is coming?” Alna asked, her voice soft as she removed one of her gloves.

  Marianna looked startled at the question, but composed herself quickly enough. Pushing herself up, she replied with a quiet, “Yeah, one sec.”

  Alna didn’t watch Marianna as she walked across the living room apartment. Instead, she finished removing her glove and placed her hand inside. She couldn’t feel any heat radiating from the oven where she crouched. But better to be safe than sorry, as the saying went.

  Still, there was no heat. As Marianna’s footsteps approached her once more, Alna tugged her glove back on. Marianna’s shoulder brushed hers as she once again knelt next to Alna.

  “We’re good,” Marianna informed her. “I think his neighbours are back, but I don’t see any sign of Mr. Black.”

  Alna made a noncommittal sound, once more reaching into the dark oven. As gently as she could manage, Alna grasped the blackened piece of fabric. It crumbled in her grip, bits of the fabric flaking off and adding to the pile of ashes on the bottom of the oven. Alna loosened her grip and drew her hand out.

  Predictably, the fabric crumbled even more, and Alna soon found ashes resting in her lap, leaving behind black marks on her faded jeans. Her jaw clenched before relaxing. They would have to clean up any ashes on the floor before leaving.

  “What do you think it was?” Marianna asked, moving closer. She wrinkled her nose at the burnt smell it was giving off.

  Ignoring how cute that made her look, Alna focused on the fabric, turning it in her hands. Some of the original fabric appeared to remain in tack, albeit not that much. The red was almost impossible to distinguish with how damaged it was, but Alna noticed it anyway.

  “A shirt?” Alna said, noting a yellow piece of rubber that looked like it belonged to a logo. The Arctic Foxes, perhaps. Her parents watched their games from time to time. Their logo was the profile of an arctic fox with a yellow circle around it that looked like a circle of paint. There were even some hints of blue in the fox’s fur.

  What was of particular interest, however, were the small flecks of red that clung to the yellow rubber, some more brown than red. It was difficult to tell, but…

  “I am quite certain this is blood,” Alna announced, angling the fabric so that Marianna could see it. Marianna leaned forward, squinting as she tried to figure out what Alna was referring to. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  It took Marianna a little longer than Alna to spot the blood, but when she did, she looked disturbed.

  Marianna’s lips pursed in vague disapproval as she sat back on her heels, shifting a bit.

  “So, call the hotline, then?” Marianna inquired, sounding put out. Alna filed that away to ask about later.

  “I believe that would be the wisest course of action,” Alna agreed with a nod. She gave Marianna a significant look, who jumped up in response. After leaving the kitchen for a moment, Marianna returned with a clear plastic bag from her purse.

  Crouching down next to Alna one more time. Marianna opened the bag with a crinkle, holding it open for Alna. With care, Alna placed the fabric inside. Even still, more of it flaked off, scattering black ashes across the white-tiled floor. Alna resisted the urge to sigh. That was going to take some time to clean up.

  As Marianna closed the plastic bag, Alna pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. They had been here for twenty minutes. Given that Black had likely gone to see his lawyer about how he could gain custody of his children, Alna doubted he would return soon. But she was unwilling to take that chance.

  “Time to clean up and go,” Alna said, standing up. She brushed herself off on instinct, leaving behind black smears on her jeans. Jaw clenching, Alna turned, heading out of the kitchen. Marianna was hot on her heels.

  Soon Alna was crouching next to Marianna’s oversized, grey purse. She pulled out some floor cleaner bought from a dollar store, kept in a small white jug with a blue cap. Alongside that, Alna retrieved a rag and a small plastic bowl. She left the yellow, semi-clear lid in the purse.

  Alna gathered these into her arms and stood up. She watched in silence as Marianna placed the bag with the fabric next to her purse and gathered her own supplies. Once standing, she met Alna’s eyes.

  “You’ll take the kitchen and living room?” she asked, even though they were both aware the question was rhetorical. Alna nodded anyway. Marianna turned and headed to the very bedroom Alna had been investigating.

  “Check the bathroom while you’re over there,” Alna called as Marianna’s blonde ponytail disappeared. “I didn’t get to that.”

  Marianna’s gloved hand appeared, giving her a vague wave that showed her assent.

  Wasting no time, Alna went back to the kitchen and filled the bowl with some warm water. Even the sink displayed how cheap this place was, the water coming out in quick spurts that ended up splashing Alna’s arm. When it finally came out in decent quantities, the water seemed to gush out, as though relieved it could even do so.

  Alna’s eyebrows drew together in mild annoyance, but she ignored her now wet sleeve. After dumping some cleaner into the bowl, Alna knelt on the cool white floor, using a damp rag to clean up the ashes.

  It took some time, as using a rag spread the ashes around quite a bit. Alna reigned in her impatience and kept her face impassive as she worked. Her tactic worked; Alna’s impatience receded, only to be replaced with her more analytical side.

  That Black had hurt, and likely killed someone, was apparent. Did that mean he was behind the theft of the ring and rifle from Brigate Museum and Cherise Sawyer’s necklace and painting? It seemed plausible. Alna considered this as she cleaned up the rest of the ashes.

  She dumped the now black water into the sink and rinsed it out. Some water splashed onto her face, but Alna barely noticed.

  The timing was accurate. If one tried hard enough, one could truly find almost anything on the computer––from someone’s social media postings, to their darkest secrets they would rather keep hidden.

  Legal affairs? Somewhere, Alna knew, there was a file of interviews and court cases. Even if they were not kept on an official database, someone (like Black’s lawyer, in this case) would have some records of events. It was simply a matter of taking the time to figure out who that person was and then find her way into their computer.

  Giving the kitchen one last look, Alna went to fetch Marianna, her mind still buzzing with countless questions and observations.

  Marianna was just coming out of the bathroom as Alna approached it, as if responding to a cue. Her eyes were wide, displaying her shock as she held something out for Alna’s inspection.

  Not just anything, as it turned out. A chain of white diamonds that, even now, with no direct light shining on them, seemed to glitter. The diamonds started rather large near where the pendant was hung, becoming smaller and smaller as they reached the clasp until the diamonds were almost the size of a small bead meant for crafts.

  The pendant was a ruby the size of two baby’s fists, shaped into an oval.

  It was Cherise Sawyer’s ruby necklace.