- AHMED -

I left the ceremony for Mr. Clather and Madame Caroline early. James and Katherine said they both understood, but I knew they didn't fully. Sure, they knew about how Caroline had written that article about me in the Press, but they had no idea what Marissa'd said about Glenn—or how Steven and I had found his body in EdgeWay almost a month ago.

But knowing all that, I still felt somehow wrong walking out of the ceremony. Or maybe I just felt wrong that there'd even been a ceremony to begin with; maybe I felt that when it came to those two, a celebration of life was just out of place. Granted, I didn't know either of them personally, and I'd only made Caroline's acquaintance mere days before her death.

All things considered, I couldn't bring myself to think, really and truly, that they'd gotten what they deserved. But I also couldn't stop myself from thinking it.

I was pacing around the foyer, cutting through the living room, when I heard a knock at the front door. I wondered if maybe James had left the house key again. Stopping mid-pace, I spun around and headed to the door.

As soon as I unlocked and pulled it open, I gave a heavy sigh. "Steven, what are you doing here?"

"Dude, listen," he began. "I just found something crazy."

"Yeah, me too, and it's standing right in front of me." I gripped the edge of the door and pushed to shut it.

Steven forced his hand in the crevice, pushed back. "Ahmed, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear me? I said I found something."

"Too bad. I'm not interested. I've heard enough conspiracy theories about 'the only person who likes me in this school.'" I scrunched stiff air quotes with my fingers. "Now get outta here. I mean it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow, someone's feeling hormonal. Don't forget to take your Midol, Judy Moody." He shoved the door wider.

"Steven, stop it!" I was almost screaming. "Get out! Go!"

"Dude, what's your problem? Just hear me out. Sheesh."

"No, Steven, I won't hear you out," I bit back. "You seriously think you can just come to my house, force your way inside, and make me listen to you?"

"Ahmed, this is serious. Why don't you try just getting over yourself—"

"Me get over myself?"

He stared down at me through the crack in the door, frustration written all over his face.

"Steven, I basically had to drag you out of your house last night. And now that you're suddenly so into solving this mystery, I'm just supposed to jump at your beck and call? Now that you finally feel like this affects you, I have to drop everything and be suspicious of Ms. Charity because she makes you uncomfortable?"

"Okay, you could seriously use some birth control right now, Ahmed. When was your last menstrual cycle?" He rolled his eyes. "Look, Charity is suspicious, and I think I'm getting to the bottom of th—"

"Great," I spat. "Call the cops next time." I shoved the door as hard as I could, felt the wood crunch against Steven's hand as I forced.

"Dude, ow!" he cried out in pain. "You stupid prick!" He rammed the door, flinging the tall-standing wood right into my head and shoulder.

I lost my balance, fell back onto the polished foyer floor with a thud and a shot of dizzying pain.

"Can you just listen for one second!?" Steven yelled from the doorway, now spread widely in the fading daylight.

I swallowed hard as I looked up at him, felt a single tear roll down my burning cheek.

"I really do have something, okay!? And it's big."

I shivered, held my silence.

Steven stared at me, sighed. "Look," he finally said. "I didn't mean to go after you this morning at brunch." He stuffed both hands in his pockets. "And if I'm being honest, after last night...I kinda owe you my life."

I shook my head. "You're the one who thought to get in the tub," I said lowly.

"Well, if you hadn't tackled me when you did, I'd have been nothing but a pile of ashes on Marissa's kitchen floor."

My eyes darted away. "Whatever."

He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, then walked over and reached out his hand to help me to my feet. "Come on, Ahmed." He paused, gave another sigh. "Please?"

I exhaled deeply, then gripped Steven's hand.

He grimaced as I stood and flexed his hand once I let it go, the same hand I'd smashed in the door moments earlier. He looked down at me, eyes squinting at the pain. "Got any ice?"

I nodded. "There's some in the kitchen." He followed me to the freezer, and I reached inside to grab a handful of frosty cubes, stuffing them inside a Ziploc bag I retrieved from the cupboard over the counter.

"Here," I said as I surrendered the ice. "Now, what was it you said you found?"

"Oh, right. Wait here." He turned and darted outside, reentering the kitchen seconds later with a partially unzipped backpack. He rummaged around in it until he found a spiral journal with a bronze-colored lock.

"Steven," I asked warily, "what's that?"

"It's Charity's diary. Back from when she was—"

"Wait, it's her what!?"

"Hey, you said you'd hear me out," he defended, holding up both hands.

I rolled my eyes as he pulled a matching bronze key from his pocket to twist in the journal's lock.

"I can't believe you stole her diary," I muttered. "How did you even—?"

"Here." He shoved the book into my hand. "Read this entry."

I stared back at him uneasily. "Steven..."

"Just read it!"

"Sunday, October 13, 1985—" I began with a sigh. "I'm speechless. I've never been so angry in my life. I thought today was going to be just wonderful. Ernest asked me to Sunday lunch again, and of course I graciously accepted. But then Marcus. He just—oh, I can't believe it! Ernest and I were going to try to catch up after how busy we've been with our Theology of Patience in Love class, and we stole away to be alone for a moment. But being us, of course we lost track of the time. When the rest of the family was finally ready for lunch, little Shelby came to fetch the two of us, and Marcus was with her. And he wasn't just with her...he was eyeing her—staring at a six-year-old's behind! I was so horrified. I couldn't believe this was happening. But only I seemed to notice, Ernest didn't, so I thought I'd give Marcus the benefit of the doubt, even though I knew what I had seen. And later, when I was alone with her after lunch, I asked Shelby if Marcus had hurt her before they came to my and Ernest's room. And in the saddest, most tragically innocent way, she said no—he never hurt her; all he did was show her what she called 'The Finger Game.' I was terrified to ask, but I had to know what it was...and she showed me. She said it tickled, and that Marcus's 'hard hands' had really made her laugh. I was livid. I stormed out of the room and yelled at him in front of everyone. I didn't care what they thought of me; I couldn't let some little girl get..." I stopped, flipped over the page, looked up. "What? That's it?"

Steven nodded. "That's what I said, dude. She just stopped writing all of a sudden. I don't get it, but...this is insane."

I exhaled. "I'm still not seeing how this proves Ms. Charity's guilty of anything. This was back when your dad was in seminary. No doubt, it's sick that your dad tried to molest a girl, but—"

"A girl? Ahmed, she's not just a girl." Steven secured the page between his thumb and index finger before turning to the previous entry. "She's Shelby Bark—you know, the same one we found pinned to a fence and bleeding out from her thighs!?"

"And what, you think Ms. Charity is responsible?"

"I don't...I mean...yeah, sort of, I just—I don't know, okay? But the three of them are obviously connected."

I shook my head. "How did you even know to check in October of 1985 for clues? Did you seriously read everything up until then looking for something suspicious?"

He looked away. "This is going to sound weird, but...when I got back from church this morning, there were all these blond hairs shoved in between the pages."

I felt my eyes grow wide. What?

"And when I turned to the first page marked with hair, it just...it sounded really suspicious, like Charity was starting to nurse a grudge or something." He paused. "Then on the next one, I found out my dad fingered a first grader."

"Man," I whispered. "That's crazy."

Steven held his silence.

"Have you read anything after that?"

He hesitated. "Um...well, no."

"Then how are you so sure it's Ms. Charity?" I asked lowly. "I mean, yeah, she was really mad at your dad, but why would she attack Shelby and try to torch Marissa's place? If she's so angry, why not just go after your dad for what he did?"

Steven looked down. "That's the part I still don't get, but...I know she's involved. She has to be." He sighed, finally stared me in the eye. "I wasn't lying about what I said earlier. I really did see her at the graveyard. And it's impossible for her to have called the firemen that quickly if she wasn't already somewhere near Marissa's apartment."

I paused. "And what about Marissa? Did they ever find her...or her body?"

He shook his head. "They said they didn't find anyone in that house."

"There's no way," I puzzled. "Steven, there's no way she made it out."

"You're telling me." He crossed his arms, lowered his eyes. "She just seemed...crazed. Like she was out for blood."

I shuddered to think about it, but he was right. Marissa had been waving that knife like a lunatic before the lights went out and the kitchen floor burst into flames.

"What I don't understand is why." I leaned against the kitchen counter, stuffed my hands in my pockets. "Do you think maybe she knew the person who broke in last night?"

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged. "And maybe she followed whoever that was into the woods. But if it wasn't Charity, I don't know who it could've been."

"Well, either way, I doubt they fought it out in the woods, or one of the firemen probably would've seen something. And if she really did survive, Marissa must've run like crazy to get out of there. I just...where could she have gone?"

Steven gulped. "I think I might have an idea," he said after a moment's pause. "There's only one place in town that would still be open that late. And based on those pictures we found in Landon's car, I'm guessing Marissa knew a lot more about Lane Martin than she was willing to admit."

"Okay...I'm still not seeing how this tells us where Marissa went last night after the break in?"

"Well, it doesn't," he breathed. "Not exactly. This is a downright longshot. But what if Marissa went to Molding the Way?"

"Molding the Way?"

"I don't know. Maybe she was being blackmailed, or...or maybe she was meeting someone."

"Someone like who?"

"...Landon?" he hesitated. "Or maybe Charity."

"You're right." I let out a heavy sigh. "That is a longshot."

Steven looked down. "It's all we've got. And we know Marissa was bathing Lane. We just don't know where. I'm willing to bet that kook house probably has at least one nasty old tub somewhere in the basement."

With a shudder of trepidation, I gave a slow and hesitant nod. "...Alright. I guess that's better than nothing." I glanced away. "Just let me leave a note for James and Katherine. Otherwise, they'll freak if they get home and I'm not here."

Steven pulled out his keys and walked outside to start his car. I scribbled a note and stuck it to the fridge with a thin magnet, then I grabbed my house key and sprinted through the front door.