It was moments like these when Marianna felt like there was a clock hanging above her head, going tick, tick, tick. Tick; another day of high school done. Another day closer to the big ceremony, where everyone would parade around in their fancy dresses and tuxedos. Where people would give speeches and a chapter of her life finished.

  Tick; only that much closer to final exams. Marianna would have a couple of months off, in which she would go spend a week with her Aunt Candace, helping her at the bed-and-breakfast. There was also a camping trip she was planning with her friends, and Victoria and Aiden had booked flights for a trip to New York. Of course, Marianna would continue to work at the Gift Shop when she wasn’t off on vacation.

  And after all that was over, Marianna would start…school. But a different school. College. Where Marianna could take courses more suited to her interests and finally begin the process of becoming a therapist.

  Just the thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

  Which was exactly what Marianna discussed with the school counsellor, during their meeting scheduled to take place once every two weeks.

  It was with still aching feet that Marianna stumbled into the Holt house on a Monday, annoyed yet pleased. On one hand, Ms. Tibold was a pain, too worried about the Grand March as she was. Marianna swore that woman was a perfectionist of the highest order. On the other hand, Marianna had remembered a significant portion of the Grand March without prompting from anyone. She felt she had a right to feel good about herself.

  “You look as though you had a rough day,” Alna commented as Marianna stumbled her way into the kitchen, sitting gracelessly on one of the kitchen chairs. She didn’t reply immediately, revelling in the relief of being stationary for the moment.

  Colton and Evan both gave Alna half-hearted hellos, already heading off to their bedrooms.

  Alna was sitting across from Marianna at the kitchen table, phone in hand as she no doubt continued her research on the theft/murders that had been occurring recently. Why she had taken a break from extracting what information she could from Ms. McKenzie’s phone, Marianna wasn’t sure. Still, it was nice to see Alna relax a bit.

  With a groan, Marianna lifted one of her feet into her lap, massaging it. “Whose bright idea was it to make graduation such a big deal?” she grumbled, digging her thumb into the ball of her foot.

  Alna appeared only somewhat sympathetic. “Well, as most parents would say, graduation is a mere milestone. Enjoy your last bit of high school while you still can. You’ll likely be wishing it wasn’t over soon enough.”

  Giving her an unconvinced look, Marianna switched feet. “And what do you say?”

  This earned her a smirk that put a dimple in Alna’s cheek, a look that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a cat. She moved to sit on the same side of the table as Marianna. Once she had positioned the chair to her liking, Alna made a vague gesture, and Marianna rested her foot on Alna’s lap. As she started digging her thumbs into the arch of Marianna’s foot, Alna finally replied, “I say that you just need to get through this last little bit, and then high school will be behind you.”

  Something thumped in one boy’s room, making the two girls turn. Alna called out, already half out of her chair as Marianna lowered her foot to the floor. They needn’t have worried because Alna’s brother, whichever one it was, called out that everything was fine. Alna sat back down and resumed giving Marianna her massage.

  “Considering how well I know you,” Alna continued, “I believe you will miss some aspects of high school, but not the actual schooling itself. Your college classes will see to that.” She gave Marianna a significant look, which Marianna could only respond to with a nod. Alna was probably right, after all. “More likely, you’ll miss seeing your friends as often as you do.”

  Again, Marianna could only nod. That was a major concern with life after high school. Marianna’s friends were more important to her than she could put into words. The three of them were Marianna’s family, really, in all the ways that mattered. When the summer break ended, Hikari would go to Japan to live with her grandparents while she studied fashion; Blaze would move to another city to learn to be a gym teacher. Sure, Sadie would still live in Brigate during her gap year, but it was only a matter of time before she chose her career and some college realized her potential.

  Not seeing them for months––even years––on end…

  It almost didn’t bear thinking about.

  Shaking herself, Marianna cast around for another topic of conversation, some nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that her school counsellor wouldn’t approve of her avoidance technique. She pushed it away, focusing on Alna’s hands, gently but firmly easing away the aches in her overworked feet. What had she been thinking with those high heels? Sure, they looked nice, but they felt more like devices of torture than anything.

  Glancing at a nearby clock, Marianna concluded Aiden would be home soon. Good thing, too. She was getting hungry.

  “So how’s the case?” Marianna asked. “Anything new for us?” She tried not to feel guilty. When it came to these cases, Marianna wasn’t exactly the better end of the partnership. More often than not, Alna was doing most of the work.

  Alna spoke up then, breaking Marianna out of her downward spiral of self-deprecating thoughts.

  “I’ve been playing with McKenzie’s phone nearly all day, and I do believe I will glean something from it soon.” Alna pushed down on Marianna’s foot, which she dropped to the floor, replacing it with the other. “And I’ve also been doing some research on our grave robbing case.”

  “You’re still working on that?”

  “Of course,” Alna replied. “Just because we are working on the murder/thefts once more doesn’t mean the grave robber is not important.”

  Marianna nodded. Alna had a point, but in all the time she and Marianna had worked together, they had only ever worked on one case at a time. Perhaps Alna didn’t like dropping a case without reaching some sort of real conclusion. She could understand that.

  Before Marianna could say anything else, like ask how the grave robbing research had gone, Alna’s expression changed. Whereas before she had looked to be at ease, her face open, now she looked almost sheepish. Which was not a look Marianna usually associated with her girlfriend.

  Marianna studied Alna’s face, trying to employ Alna’s method of deduction as her eyes trailed over Alna’s chiselled cheekbones to her strong jaw. Just underneath her collarbones was Alna’s magnifying glass necklace, which seemed to sparkle a bit in the light. Alna was giving nothing away, though. At least not in a way Marianna could observe. No flicker of her eyelids gave Marianna any idea what she could be thinking.

  Marianna’s curiosity was soon rewarded.

  “I received some rather heartening news,” Alna admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she dropped her eyes. “The police academy in South Rock contacted me earlier. They want me to go in next week for an entrance exam.”

  Marianna straightened at those words. She could feel the smile stretching across her face. “Alna, that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

  “It’s nothing to make a fuss about,” Alna said without inflection, her gaze on the task at hand. “It is a simple exam; not a guarantee I will get in.” Despite her words, there was a pleased curve to Alna’s lips.

  Marianna ignored her words, staring over Alna’s shoulder at an abstract painting mounted on the kitchen wall. “It just feels like everything’s coming together. We’ve got a place to live, you’re going to the police academy”––of this, she had no doubt––”and I’m going to college.”

  “It feels that way, doesn’t it?” Alna said.

  Aiden came home a little while later and prepared supper for everyone in the house, which unfortunately didn’t include Victoria, who was going to be at the hospital late into the night. Much like Marianna, Aiden was proud of Alna despite her insistence that there was nothing to be proud of yet. They discussed plans on how to get Alna and Marianna to the city. Marianna decided she would skip just one day of school for this occasion. They could make a day trip out of it, she insisted.

  Soon enough, they were in Alna and Marianna’s room, both sitting in silence while Marianna started on her homework and Alna continued trying to figure out how to get Ms. McKenzie’s phone working.

  Marianna didn’t have to wait long. When Alna called her name, Marianna lifted her eyes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, not in the least bit ashamed of the relief she felt. “Shakespeare is for everyone,” people said. Yeah, whatever.

  “You’ve got something?” Marianna asked, shoving the textbook off her lap.

  “Indeed, I have,” Alna said. Marianna grabbed her notebook from where she had tossed it on top of the dark blue blanket, snatched a pen, and sat down in the chair next to Alna’s. Her pen hovered above an empty page, ready to write at a moment’s notice.

  Alna’s pale lips curled into an approving smile. She gestured to the late Ms. McKenzie’s phone, which was connected to Alna’s laptop via a wire. On Alna’s screen was a flat green line with a black background. It reminded Marianna uneasily of a heartbeat monitor in a hospital.

  “I doubt you will need that,” Alna said. “I have found a voice message on McKenzie’s phone. I should be able to save it easily if I feel we will need to listen to it again.”

  With a shrug of shimmery, purple-clad shoulders, Marianna nudged aside one of Alna’s books, laying her notebook on the desk.

  Alna said nothing else, turning back to her laptop. She played the recording.

  It didn’t come through the phone itself, but rather through the speakers on Alna’s laptop. The message was nothing important; Ms. McKenzie’s mother, saying that she had called for a quick chat and would call back later.

  Alna went back further to the message received just before that one. Rather conveniently, Marianna thought, Ms. McKenzie was not all that concerned about deleting messages off her phone. It made sense; Marianna wasn’t the most diligent with her phone, forgetting to delete apps she didn’t use anymore. In this case, McKenzie’s procrastination (or forgetfulness) may very well prove to work to their advantage.

  The next messages weren’t any more significant than the first. One was a telemarketer, encouraging Ms. McKenzie to buy some sort of security system. The other was from a man, saying he enjoyed his date with Ms. McKenzie the other night and was wondering when she would have time to go out again. Marianna couldn’t imagine what he was feeling now.

  It was the fourth message that proved to be the charm.

  “Hey, Teag,” said a male voice. Whoever this man was, he must have been somewhere either busy or industrial, because his voice sounded rather staticky. “I was just wondering if we’d be able to talk about that book of yours sometime. I know what you said, but–– Call me back, okay?”

  The message ended, leaving the two girls in silence.

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  “Well, that’s no weird or anything,” Marianna pointed out sarcastically. Alna didn’t quite smile, but she clearly agreed.

  Alna said nothing for a few minutes, deep in thought. She tapped her long fingers on her laptop in no particular pattern, played the message again, and played a few other messages on Ms. McKenzie’s phone. These messages proved to be no more useful than the ones preceding the message about the book.

  That done, Alna hacked into the Brigate Police files. Marianna, knowing that Alna was “in the zone,” as she liked to think of it, stayed silent, watching Alna pull up files of various men with criminal records. The light from the laptop cast Alna’s face in a near eerie glow, making Alna look rather like a marble statue. As pale as she was, Alna wouldn’t have looked out of place in a film about vampires. She even had the right demeanour for it, Marianna thought: withdrawn and even a little mysterious and always wearing dark colours. Not that Marianna would ever tell her that.

  Despite what seemed to be a breakthrough, no immediate results were forthcoming. After realizing Alna would be at it for some time yet, Marianna retreated to the bed, starting on her homework again.

  ***

  That weekend, Cherise Sawyer was pronounced dead. Marianna received this news with a confusing mix of emotions. She felt sad, but not at all surprised. Mrs. Sawyer’s injuries after being attacked in her own home had been critical to begin with. That her time in the hospital lasted so long wasn’t a good sign, and Marianna couldn’t say she hadn’t seen Mrs. Sawyer’s demise coming.

  Alna had little to no reaction to Mrs. Sawyer’s death. Having been downstairs, Alna only gave the TV a quick look, frowned, and sat down to Marianna, who hadn’t yet changed out of her pyjamas. Recognizing the intent look on Alna’s face, Marianna muted the TV and moved so that she was sitting sideways. She rested her hands on her knees, giving Alna an expectant look.

  In the kitchen, Aiden went about making waffles, eggs, and bacon for breakfast.

  Phone in hand, Alna sat at Marianna’s feet, her profile difficult to make out in the dark living room. She, too, was still in her pyjamas: a black t-shirt with baggy black pants. This was a bit of a surprise, considering between the two of them, Alna always had an easier time waking up in the morning.

  She handed her phone to Marianna, who accepted it without comment.

  The picture had been originally displayed on Alna’s laptop, which she then used her phone to snap a photo of. Marianna didn’t recognize the man in it. She would guess that he was in his forties. He was overweight, sporting a bit of a double chin, and as bald as an egg. His head probably shone when the sun hit it at the right angle.

  The man was on vacation in this photo, as he smiled at the camera, one arm wrapped around none other than Teagan McKenzie as he used the other arm to wave at whoever was taking the picture. Behind them was an ocean, the sun reflecting off the water and making it sparkle.

  “Okay,” Marianna said, hearing the question in her voice. She handed the phone back to Alna.

  “Milo McKenzie,” Alna said. Her voice was low, so as not to be heard. Victoria was still in bed, as far as Marianna knew, sleeping off a long day. It wasn’t unlikely that she or one of the boys would head to the kitchen, though. “He is Teagan McKenzie’s cousin. The one that left that message on her phone.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. Marianna looked over Alna’s shoulder, toward the kitchen, making sure that Aiden couldn’t hear them. Satisfied that he was keeping himself busy in the kitchen, Marianna looked back at Alna.

  “You wanna interview him?” Marianna asked, although she didn’t know why she bothered. Of course, Alna would want to interview Mr. McKenzie.

  “I believe it should be you who does it this time,” Alna said, her voice becoming even more quiet. Marianna saw a muscle tense in Alna’s jaw and wondered if she should try to help Alna relax somehow. She wasn’t always good at that––relaxing. “From what I have seen”––here she did something on her phone and handed it back to Marianna––”McKenzie is the type of man who easily slips into defence.”

  The picture now displayed on Alna’s phone was Mr. McKenzie’s social media page. In it, he was having a heated argument with someone who had posted a humorous, somewhat insulting comment on one of his images. There had to be at least ten exchanges between the two men, with increasing insults and profanity in every post. Marianna gave Alna her phone back, not wanting to read any more.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” Marianna agreed. “Anything I should know?”

  And it was then that Aiden came in to tell them breakfast was ready.

  ***

  Marianna set up the meeting with Mr. McKenzie quickly, and within less than forty-eight hours, she was going to meet the man herself.

  Mr. McKenzie was the boss of a big company in Brigate, Jack’s Shoes. Where that name came from, no one seemed to know, but it didn’t stop a good portion of Brigate’s population from buying from there.

  Including Marianna.

  Her meeting with Mr. McKenzie would take place right in the man’s own office, which she and Alna agreed was risky. Marianna, however, liked to think she had at least a bit of a backbone, for all that she acknowledged she was incredibly shy. She wouldn’t let a meeting like this get the best of her.

  Dressed in full disguise and feeling a bit like she was in a spy movie, Marianna got into line at the counter at the front of Jack’s Shoes. This didn’t seem like the most effective way for Mr. McKenzie’s guests to let him know they’d arrived, but who was she to judge? Marianna knew nothing about running a company.

  The line thinned, and soon enough Marianna was standing in front of the cashier. His name tag said his name was Jake.

  “Hi,” Marianna said once she was in front of the counter. “My name is Piper Goodwin. I have an appointment with Milo McKenzie?”

  Jake looked confused for all of a few seconds before realization flitted across his face. “Of course. One moment.”

  While Jake picked up the phone at his counter, Marianna rocked back on her heels, gripping her handleless purse with both hands.

  There wasn’t very much to distinguish Jack’s Shoes from any other store in town. It was large, consisting mostly of one room with various racks for people to browse possible selections.

  As was standard for many stores, the walls were painted white, although they had some posters to break through the monotony: a picture of some woman’s bare calves, obviously running somewhere in a pair of pink runners. There were a couple more posters to this effect, advertising the store’s items, assuring people theirs were the best. One poster behind Jake showed a black shoe on some kind of grey platform, steam rising around it while a caption said that this shoe would never overheat.

  Personally, Marianna thought advertisements like these were stupid. They never did much for her, anyway.

  Jake addressed her, bringing Marianna’s attention back to him.

  “Mr. McKenzie is ready for you,” he said, running a hand through his inky hair. Well, that sounded ominous. Jake gestured toward the back of the store, where Marianna knew the changing rooms and public restrooms were located. “His office is down the hallway back there, first door on your right. You can’t miss it.”

  That’s what that hallway was for? She’d always kind of wondered.

  “Thank you,” Marianna replied, pasting a grateful look on her face. She left her place in the line, immediately walking between two metal shelves with various shoes as she made her way to the back.

  There was a strange, plastic scent in the air that Marianna associated with this store. She couldn’t say she liked it; it always made her nose itch, which she suspected was an allergic reaction of sorts. The lights overhead were bright white and completely uncovered, making them almost impossible to look at directly.

  Marianna reached the hallway Jake mentioned, and, on instinct, turned to survey the rest of the store. Alna had told her she would be in the store the entire time Marianna was conducting her interview. She’d pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that her listening in on the conversation was much too risky. That Marianna would be recording the entire thing was bad enough.

  Marianna was completely alone on this one. That thought didn’t make her as nervous as it would have when she first started doing this.

  True to her word, Alna was down the aisle in front of Marianna, dressed in her current look for Jenna Walker. Noticing Marianna was looking at her, Alna looked up from the black high heel she was inspecting, giving her a pointed look.

  Marianna would recognize that look anywhere. Although Alna wore brown contacts, and that she had used temporary hair dye to colour her eyebrows the same as her hair, Alna had some very distinctive facial expressions that Marianna could never mistake for someone else.

  Feeling her shoulders relax, Marianna turned and went down the hallway.

  Finding Mr. McKenzie’s office proved not to be difficult at all. Before she knew it, Marianna had knocked on the door and was being assured into an office that lacked character.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Goodwin?” Mr. McKenzie asked once they had gotten the pleasantries.

  The man sitting before Marianna was large. Marianna didn’t like to use the word fat, but that was the only word that seemed to fit Mr. McKenzie. He was quite round, more so than any Santa Claus Marianna ever saw. His head, like in the picture, was devoid of any hair, and his hands looked large enough to…well, snap someone’s neck.

  As if to contradict such a notion, Mr. McKenzie wore a simple grey suit, the only distinctive feature being his black and green striped tie.

  In conclusion, Mr. McKenzie didn’t immediately strike Marianna as a murderer, but he looked physically capable of it.

  At Mr. McKenzie’s question, Marianna smiled, tucking a couple of long brown strands behind her ear. She folded her hands in her lap, knowing for a fact that this would make her appear both harmless and polite.

  “Mr. McKenzie, I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m a writer for the newspaper at my school, Finley High.”

  In response to this, Mr. McKenzie cocked his head in acknowledgement.

  “With everything that’s been going on in the city, my editors requested that I do a write up on the murders/thefts that have been going on.”

  Marianna paused at that, fixing Mr. McKenzie with the more innocent, intrigued look she could muster. Such a look, Marianna knew, carried well with her blue eyes. If she widened them enough, Marianna looked like a naive girl with no actual knowledge of how the world worked.

  Her tactic worked. Whether it was the innocent look, or the need to fill the awkward silence Marianna allowed to encase them, Mr. McKenzie started speaking.

  “And how can I help you with that?” Mr. McKenzie asked, folding his large hand atop his expensive-looking oak desk. Marianna tried not to stare at those hands, but couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been one to stab Mrs. Sawyer, or bashed Albert Smith’s head in at the museum.

  “Well, it’s just...” Marianna began. She reached up to twist a curly lock around her finger. “I read up about what happened at Ms. McKenzie’s museum, and I thought––”

  Here was the part where Marianna would normally blush, the warmth filling her cheeks. These situations didn’t make her as nervous as they used to, so instead Marianna dug into her purse for her notebook and pen, hiding the fact that she was turning her phone on to record.

  Once done, Marianna placed the notebook in her lap, tugging on her jean skirt that went just past her knees. She looked back up at Mr. McKenzie.

  “I’m pursuing the idea that what happened at the Brigate Museum might be related to what happened with Ms. McKenzie.”

  A long moment of silence stretched between them. Marianna’s eyes darted to Mr. McKenzie’s hands once again. She swallowed.

  Eventually, Mr. McKenzie Spoke. “The police said as much.” For the first time since Marianna had arrived, Mr. McKenzie’s face was more than a mask of polite indifference. Mr. McKenzie’s blue eyes had a faraway look in them, pain twisting his features. He looked like he was suffering from the aftermath of a horrible accident, and Marianna was almost sorry to have brought up such a painful topic.

  But nowhere near sorry enough to drop it, or waste time.

  “If we could continue, Mr. McKenzie,” Marianna spoke up, making her voice louder to make herself heard. She waited until Mr. McKenzie’s attention was back on her before she said, “Would you mind if I took some notes?” She gestured to her notebook. “It will help me remember everything for my article later.”

  There was a long, drawn-out pause. And then Mr. McKenzie asked to see Marianna’s credentials. Marianna opened up her wallet without so much as a flinch, having expected this to happen sooner. She watched as he studied it. Alna had made her a fake driver’s license and school ID once Marianna decided on her new fake name. Alna’s versions were so well done that even when Marianna laid her fake driver’s license next to her real one, she couldn’t see any differences. Besides the obvious.

  Finally, Mr. McKenzie handed back her license, and the interview started.

  “So,” Marianna began, her pen hovering over lined paper, “do you think the two attacks on the museums may be related?”

  “I suppose they could be,” Mr. McKenzie said, looking wary, but not in such a way that made him look guilty.

  Well, if he was going to be like that, this may take a while. Marianna pressed on.

  “So, if the two are, why would the people behind this kill that security guard and your cousin? Why not just grab the stuff and run?”

  Again, Mr. McKenzie didn’t look all that happy with this conversation, but the way his eyes drifted to the plain white wall to Marianna’s right might have been because he was grieving for his cousin. No need to jump to conclusions.

  “Can you expect criminals to be rational about anything?” Mr. McKenzie tossed back at her, lips twisting wryly.

  Oh, they most definitely can, Marianna thought with a touch of humour. What she said was, “Point taken,” while making a few notes. Mr. McKenzie, she noted with mild annoyance, looked no more uncomfortable than a person reasonably would in this situation.

  Pursing her lips for a moment, Marianna lifted her head. She met Mr. Mckenzie’s eyes dead-on, all the while trying not to seem too forward.

  “I’m sorry about your cousin.” She paused for a moment, waiting for Mr. McKenzie to relax a bit, which he did. “But can you think of any personal reason someone would kill her?”

  There. If that didn’t get a reaction, nothing would. Marianna inched her hand toward her purse, prepared to grab her phone if Mr. McKenzie became threatening. Her heart sped up.

  Mr. McKenzie was looking tense. Or should she say enraged? His large shoulders became noticeably tense, the tendons in his hand becoming visible as Mr. McKenzie curled it up into a fist. Instead of looking uneasy, Mr. McKenzie was now outright glaring at her, eyes seeming to catch fire.

  “No,” Mr. McKenzie said coldly, “there was no reason for anyone to kill her. ”

  The interview ended soon after that.