Alna glanced up from her position on the floor, her back braced against the coffee table as she surveyed Marianna. Her poor girlfriend’s nightmares had returned with a vengeance after the church incident, leaving her tossing and turning as much as the limited space on the couch would allow. Thankfully, she had made no sounds beyond slight whimpers, giving Alna enough time to wake her before she disturbed the rest of the house.

  Not that Victoria or Aiden would mind. The level of concern they held for Marianna was almost on par with that of a loving parent’s. When they had found out what the Whitlocks had done, they had both looked as though they were ready to go on a warpath. Instead, they had settled for gentle comfort––asking Marianna if she wanted to join them for a family movie night; telling her in no uncertain terms that she was welcome to stay in their house as long as she pleased. Alna knew for a fact that they meant it, too. Marianna could probably live in the Holt house for the next six months if she so desired.

  It was humbling, Alna thought, to see how far her parents’ loving nature could go.

  Seeing that Marianna remained undisturbed for the moment, Alna looked back at her phone. Between her new tutoring client, her ongoing ones, and having to calm her distressed girlfriend, Alna had had less time to research than she would have liked––even with her unhealthy, nocturnal hours. She didn’t resent Marianna for this, of course––far from it––but she had to admit the reduced time was rather frustrating. That, and the lack of information she had been finding. Whoever William Corday had hired to cover his online presence had done a superb job.

  Or should she say Connor Wright?

  Alna looked up once more as she heard Marianna shift, meeting tired blue eyes as Marianna blinked at her sleepily. She squinted at the phone for a moment, her half-asleep mind needing a moment to process what she was seeing. It was endearing.

  “Know why yet?” Marianna mumbled, her voice muffled with her cheek pressed against the couch cushion.

  “Not yet,” Alna said in a soft voice, trying to avoid waking the other occupants of the house. “Although I have formed some more theories.”

  Marianna gave her a drowsy, affectionate smile. “Of course you have.”

  As she had found out––Alna quickly checked the time––seven hours and thirty-nine minutes ago, William Corday had changed his name mere months before meeting the woman who would be his wife. Alna had been so excited at the breakthrough (however small it was) that she had spent the entire night trying to find more information. Unfortunately, that had gained her nothing other than a sleepless night. That would catch up with her, eventually.

  Placing her phone on the coffee table, Alna shifted forward so she could rest her forearms on the couch, resting her chin on them. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” Marianna said. She pushed herself up, running a hand through her blonde hair. Alna pushed herself back so she was leaning against the coffee table again. Marianna frowned at her.

  “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”

  “No, I did not.” There was no point in lying––and she had no desire to. It was rather ironic, really, that she was the one who hadn’t slept last night, when it was Marianna who had gone through a traumatizing ordeal. Although, to be fair, she had been rather restless.

  Marianna let out a small groan. “Alna,” she said with exasperated fondness.

  “I lost track of time,” Alna defended. “You know how I get with research.”

  The smile Marianna gave her lit up her face, making the stress momentarily recede. “I do.” She leaned forward enough to press a kiss to Alna’s forehead. “Make sure to get some sleep later, okay?”

  “Actually…” Alna began. She glanced toward the hallway, making sure no one would walk in on their conversation. “I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me today.”

  Marianna blinked at her. “You mean skip school?”

  “Yes.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Marianna’s face. “I don’t think I have anything major going on today,” she murmured to herself, glancing downward. She reached up to fiddle with a lock of hair before bringing her gaze back to Alna. “Sure, why not? It’s not like I skip all the time. I have to work later, though.”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” Alna assured her. “So do I. We’ll make sure you’re there on time.”

  For a moment, she was tempted to suggest that Marianna forgo work as well. With what had happened at the church, Marianna could be forgiven for needing a few days to recover. However, if Marianna had enough of a sound mind to help her investigate, then it was likely she could handle her job. Alna wasn’t about to make Marianna think she doubted her. Not without good cause.

  “Great.” Marianna sat up on the couch, giving the cushion beside her a pat. Alna took a seat next to her. “Where are we going?”

  “Corday’s house,” Alna replied after once more glancing toward the hallway. Marianna’s cheery mood visibly dimmed. Alna studied her face for any sign that she wasn’t ready to search the teacher’s house. “Is that all right?”

  Marianna took a moment to answer, the distant look in her eyes suggesting that she was thinking it over. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She sounded uncertain.

  Alna pursed her lips before opening them to tell her they could postpone––although she loathed to do so––or that she could go by herself.

  Marianna, clearly aware of what Alna was about to say, rushed to cut her off. “I mean it; I’ll be okay. I can’t hide from everything today.” She paused before adding, “This will give me something to focus on besides on my own life, which should be a good thing. In a disturbing way.”

  Alna reached out tuck a tangled strand behind Marianna’s ear. “That is certainly one way of thinking about it.”

  The rest of the family woke up not long after that––albeit gradually. Alna found herself half wishing, not for the first time, that she had been born with darker skin tone. It was nearly inevitable that her parents would notice the slight bags under Alna’s eyes, and with her alabaster skin, makeup always proved to be an issue.

  Alna, thankfully, avoided any concerned questions for the time being. Victoria, still half asleep, gave the two girls a lethargic greeting before retreating to the kitchen.

  “We’re all going to have to fend for ourselves for breakfast today,” Victoria called out a moment later. “I don’t feel like cooking right now, and I’m not sure about your father.”

  “That’s fine,” Alna said. She debated lingering in the living room a while longer, but Marianna was already pushing the blankets off her lap. She stretched her arms above her head, causing her oversized shirt to ride up a little. Alna’s eyes darted to the curve of Marianna’s exposed hip––beautiful and unblemished––before she looked away.

  Alna stood next, grimacing at the pull in her muscles. She should have paid more attention to her body’s needs last night; she would be sore all day. She’d have to follow a yoga video later if there was time.

  Marianna held her hand as they walked toward the kitchen, leaning over to murmur, “Do you want to leave soon, or…”

  “No,” Alna said, “we can stay for breakfast.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Marianna glanced toward the hallway, smiling fondly as Colton stumbled into view.

  ****

  “Well,” Marianna commented when they entered the Cordays’ house––through a window, this time. “That’s…” She trailed off, sounding sickened.

  Alna didn’t blame her. Out of all the times Marianna had helped her with these “cases,” this was, by far, the most gruesome scene they had ever walked in on. If it could be called that. Upon entrance, it was immediately obvious where in the house the murder had taken place. The two girls had to be a bit creative because, as it turned out, the Cordays lived in a busy neighborhood––even during the harsh weather. Most of their windows seemed to be within view of the street, the back alley, or someone’s backyard. Never mind the doors. They’d ended up waiting ten minutes for the all clear before Alna had gotten them in through a window that led them into the living room.

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  The large bloodstain on the floor and rug was impossible to miss. It was the only thing in the entire room that appeared unusual. Besides that, there was nothing else in the room, upon first glance, that suggested anything sinister happened here. It was a typical living room: blue walls, a television situated against the wall to Alna’s left with storage for various movies underneath. Corday’s blood had soaked into a white carpet on the floor, which made the blood itself even more obvious.

  Alna turned to check on Marianna, studying her face.

  “All right?” she asked.

  Marianna directed her gaze––which had been locked on the stain in horrified fascination––to Alna. “Yeah,” she replied, a bit shakily, but with an undercurrent of determination. “I’m good.”

  Alna nodded once. “Good.”

  Bending down, Alna removed her shoes, setting them by the now curtained window they had entered through. Marianna followed suit, her movements slower than usual in a display of reluctance. Alna could understand that. She wasn’t too keen on stepping near the old blood in socked feet, but leaving footprints behind was something they needed to avoid. As it was, they had already left small puddles of melted snow that they would need to deal with.

  That done, Alna walked over to the bloodstain, kneeling next to it. Various observations of the Cordays’ life assaulted her, which she tried to ignore. Alna heard Marianna shuffle across the floor before she was once again in Alna’s line of sight. She cast yet another look at the stain, grimaced, and walked past it to examine the couch. Alna heard her mutter about how glad she was that she would be seeing her therapist soon.

  Alna bent down, her gloved hand hovering over the stark evidence of Corday’s death as she tried to glean what she could from it. The stain was perhaps three inches in diameter on all sides, its colour now more brown than red as a result of it being half a week old. Like the report had showed her, there was a footprint in the blood. Alna leaned forward to examine it more closely.

  The footprint was small, probably a woman’s. The carpet was quite fluffy––the kind one’s foot sank into when one stepped on it. As a result, the footprint was even more prominent.

  The report had said it was size six and a half, which Alna had to agree with. Pulling out her phone, Alna took a picture of the print, no matter how unnecessary it would be. She would check the police’s progress on its origin when she got home. If they hadn’t yet found anything substantial by then, Alna would do some research of her own.

  She had already made more headway than the police as it was. Their reports gave no sign that they knew of Corday’s name change. Finding out that information had taken Alna days. Alna had considered tipping off the police of Corday’s former name, but some selfish part of her wanted to be the one to find out who Corday’s killer was.

  “Anything?” Marianna asked, not turning around as she searched between the couch cushions. She wore simple brown gloves on her hands to avoid leaving any traces behind.

  “Nothing the reports haven’t told me,” Alna reported with disappointment. She hated it when this happened––when she was unable to glean any useful information from a place she was investigating.

  “We’ll find something,” Marianna said, sounding optimistic. It was a vast improvement to the state Alna had found her in after the church incident. “And if we don’t find anything here, maybe there’ll be something at…” Here, Marianna’s wavered, betraying how she felt about Alna’s theory. “Mr. Pratt’s place.”

  After the way Mr. Pratt had looked at Corday’s widowed wife, Alna had resolved to do some research on the man. She had also asked Marianna to talk to him when given the chance, but so far she hadn’t had the opportunity to.

  As she moved to examine the television set, Alna opened her mouth to remind Marianna of her request, when the girl in question beat her to it. “I’ll talk to him when I go to school tomorrow. I should be able to come up with a good excuse to ditch lunch with my friends. Although Sadie might need me…” Seeming to shake herself, Marianna repeated, “I’ll think of something.”

  Eyebrows furrowing, Alna peered more underneath the television set. So focused was she, Alna almost missed Marianna’s last words. Humming to show she’d heard her, Alna reached under the set, gathering some substance on the tips of her glove.

  “Alna?” Marianna walked closer. “Did you find something already?”

  Alna frowned, examining her fingertips. “I’m not sure,” she said. She turned around while remaining on her knees. “Can you think of any logical reason for there to be white powder under the television set?”

  Looking confused, Marianna leaned forward to peer at the powder contrasting against Alna’s black gloves. “Weird,” she commented, staring at pure white powder. “Is that baking soda?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” Alna agreed, still baffled. She examined the powder for another moment before cautiously sniffing it. There was no scent that Alna could detect, making Marianna’s inquiry possible. But why would there be baking soda––or any type of powder––under a television?

  It was one of those moments she hated––when Alna could not, for the life of her, come up with any plausible answer.

  “Could you get me a plastic bag, please?” Alna requested.

  Looking confused, Marianna nodded. She stood and walked over to the oversized purse Alna had taken, which she had left by the window. A moment later, Marianna returned with a small, plastic bag, handing it to Alna.

  After gathering what little was left of the powder––to the best of her abilities––Alna placed it in the bag, which then found a home in her coat pocket.

  “You think it’s something important?” Marianna asked as they both stood up once more.

  “It’s out of place,” Alna explained. “Which means it is possible that it has some significance.”

  Marianna nodded before going back to the couch. She gave the bloodstain a wide berth as she did so.

  The search went on in relative quiet after that, with only the occasional comment here and there. Alna glanced in Marianna’s direction from time to time, checking on her mental and emotional wellbeing. She needn’t have worried, however, as Marianna seemed more puzzled than anything.

  Alna, for her part, saw many more hours spent on her laptop in her future. Especially now that her parents’ punishment was over, meaning she didn’t have to be stealthy in its use.

  They moved from the living room to the kitchen, despite Alna’s scepticism that they would find anything there. She turned out to be right. Apart from evidence that the police had been there recently, there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary. The footprint was, by far, the most helpful clue they had come across. And on that note, the police were already looking into its owner, meaning the only advantage she and Marianna had over them was the knowledge of Corday’s former name, and, possibly, the powder.

  “Well, that was disappointing,” Marianna commented later on, as they walked away from the Cordays’ house.

  “It was,” Alna agreed, frowning at nothing in particular. The weather had calmed down over the past twenty-four hours. Now, instead of a raging storm, snowflakes fell gently from the sky, making the ground look fluffy and rather comfortable.

  Alna fiddled with the plastic bag still in her pocket. “Although we have one potential lead, however small it may be.”

  A sidelong glance revealed Marianna’s scepticism, although she let out a verbal agreement, saying, “Yeah, I guess.” Marianna went quiet, her grip on Alna’s fingers tightening and then relaxing. “If it even is something.”

  Her cynicism could hardly be blamed. Alna herself felt rather disappointed with the results of their investigation. Not to mention, Alna couldn’t help but observe, Marianna’s disheartened behavior was not one hundred percent related to their lack of results. From what Alna could see, Marianna had been pinning her hopes on today––on finding something beneficial, something that would make her time worthwhile and add some positivity to her life. She needed it; there was no doubt about that.

  “If it has any significance, I assure you I will do everything I can to find out what that is.”

  Much to Alna’s pleasure, her words seemed to lift Marianna’s spirits––if only slightly. As a middle-aged man walked past them, Marianna stopped on the sidewalk and pulled her phone out of her purse. After checking the time, she glanced up at Alna with a smile.

  “I don’t have to go to work for hours yet. Do you want to go on a date?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Alna returned the smile. “Did you have something in mind?”

  ****

  “Here we have twelve candies,” Alna explained, gesturing to the variety of colourful, hard candies she had laid in front of Lucas.“If I take away three, then how many do we have left?”

  Lucas stared at the sweets with intensity, his eyebrows furrowed. He pointed to the first one and counted them with more care for his education than a variety of children his age.

  “No, no,” Alna interrupted when he counted wrong. She placed a gentle hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “It’s seven, and then eight. Remember?”

  Lucas sat, gaze fixed on the candies. “Oh, yeah,” he acknowledged, a bit embarrassed. He glanced down at his lap shyly before turning green eyes on Alna. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Alna assured him. “Do you have the picture I gave you?”

  “Yeah,” Lucas chirped, his face brightening. He pulled his math blue binder closer and flipped through it until he reached the picture Alna had given him on their second session. It was a colourful printout of the numbers one through ten with their names printed underneath each number. Alna had thought it might help Lucas remember what each symbol meant.

  Lucas had dyscalculia, which meant he found math class particularly challenging. Alongside her excessive research on Corday, Alna had set aside time to brainstorm ways to help assist Lucas in his class. So far, she thought she had been quite successful––especially since his parents requested she come back.

  After counting from one to ten––with some assistance from Alna––Lucas refocused his attention on the math question. For his benefit, Alna repeated her example. She watched as Lucas’ red eyebrows pinched together in concentration. With his red hair, green eyes, and freckles, Alna was certain the young boy had at least some Scottish blood.

  “Twelve minus three equals…” Lucas trailed off. He counted the leftover candies once more before venturing, “Nine?”

  “That’s right,” Alna told him, injecting some enthusiasm into her voice. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering she enjoyed watching Lucas succeed. “Which means you get to keep nine candies.” Alna placed them in a plastic bag, which only became more full with Lucas’ finished questions.

  Lucas’s face lit up. He stared at the bag with a hungry delight gleaming in his eyes. So much so that Alna, with amusement, reminded him not to eat them all at once.

  “I won’t. Promise,” Lucas said with reluctant sincerity. “But can I have some now?”

  “You may,” Alna allowed. After he had eaten four pieces––kindly offering her one––Alna brought Lucas’s attention back to his homework.

  “All right. Next one.”