She knew it. She knew the music box was real! 

"Seth!" she hollered, as she sifted through the mess of papers, pens, lighters, pocket knives, and snacks that'd been in her bag. Sure enough, under them all, was the golden key. 

Emery ran to grab the music box off the floor.

Finally . . .

As the two items rested in her hands, she basked in a sense of triumph and power. 

Seth had to believe her now, right? This had to be enough to prove that fourteen years ago she'd opened a magical box that somehow made a murderer appear and kill her grandfather before she mistakenly blasted him away and started a fire that destroyed all the evidence. 

Or maybe not.

"Shit," Emery cursed. If she tried to explain it to him now, he'd be even more convinced she was crazy. No, she needed more. Something that'd be irrefutable, like another witness. 

She needed to find Lila.

"Em?" Seth's voice reached her from downstairs. As soon as she heard his footsteps tread up toward the bedroom, she went into panic mode. 

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for somewhere to store the box and key. It wasn't a good hiding spot, but she could only think to shove all the things back in her bag, zip it up and walk toward the door. Her arm threw it open just as Seth had reached the last step. Frazzled, unbrushed locks of hair snuck into her view, but she was too busy catching her breath to push them away. "Hi," was her breathless greeting. 

"Uh, hi, you called?" he asked as he hurried inside. His gaze darted around the floor. "Why'd you yell? I thought there'd be a rat or something."

"Yeah— No, I, um—" Emery pushed the hair out of her face and tried to settle her breath. Then she remembered, "Nobody woke me up this morning. I'm late for work."

Seth furrowed his eyebrows, taking a seat on the bed. "Oh, don't worry about it. Mrs. Baker gave us the day off." 

They had to be kidding her. They picked today to give her the day off? She meant to get back in that cellar as soon as she'd found the Sheriff.

Despite her disappointment, she plastered a smile over her mouth and said, "That's great, I'll have the whole day to investigate then."

"Actually," Seth continued, failing to notice she was freaking out inside. "I thought we'd go for a jog, instead."

Emery's eyes went wide in pure shock. "A jog? You?"

Seth cringed. "I hate it, but you don't. I figured it'd do you good."

Emery's chest warmed up at the gesture. Just when she'd thought he'd come in insisting to go home, he tried to make it better. 

"You've been awfully sweet lately," she purred. Her hand reached out to caress his red curls, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity she'd sorely missed. It was clear to her that he meant well. With some concrete proof, he'd surely understand and dismiss the idea of going back to Wimborne.

The key and the music box weren't nearly enough, but getting back into that cellar would be.

Seth rested his hands on her hips and shrugged. "I just want things to get back to normal."

"Right . . . normal," she lowered her voice, ripping her gaze away.

Normal. What was normal at this point? Things lurked beneath Bellenau's surface that were strange and twisted. If she were a part of that . . . If she wasn't normal, would he change toward her?

Emery began to ease away, but Seth snuck his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and dragged her close to him. "We could stay too. Mrs. Baker's not around and it's been a long time since we um," Seth stopped, his ears turning an intense shade of red. His eyes avoided hers as he lost his courage. "Since we, uh . . . had sex. . . ."

"I—" Emery interrupted him, her words failing halfway. Her mind couldn't have been further from having sex. She'd been too distracted. "I'm just going through some things. Besides, wouldn't it be weird? I feel like Mrs. Baker knows everything that goes on around here."

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He let go of her hips, before falling back into the white comforter. "No biggie," he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Emery took a seat and nervously fidgeted with her nails. It'd been nearly two months since she'd been 'going through some things'. Between training, studying, and trying to keep her head straight in therapy, she hadn't been feeling up for it. 

"I'm sorry, but when I am ready. . . ."

"You'll let me know," Seth finished for her as he got up and pressed his lips against her cheek. "I'll wait for you downstairs, okay?"

"Sure, I'll meet you in a few," she said as he stepped out of the bedroom.

Emery ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. She made sure he stepped all the way down and out of hearing range before reaching for her bag. Her hand reached in and pulled out the mystical box and key. 

They suddenly weighed tenfold. Her grandfather was killed in an effort to obtain them. It was obvious they were important and that she couldn't just leave them in plain sight. The key was small enough to take with her on her run, but the box was another story. It was clunky and big. It'd have to stay. 

Now where to hide it . . .

Her eyes darted left, right, and behind her, until they settled on two closet doors. 

It'll have to do for now. 

Emery pulled the doors open and saw an array of cardboard boxes, filled to the brim with Christmas decorations. She pulled out sparkly fabric, bulbs and nutcrakers before setting the music box inside. After refilling the box with all the knick-knacks, she shut the doors and turned back to the key. 

A bundle of linen cloth was stuffed into her luggage, along with other first aid supplies. Yanking the stretchy fabric out, she began to wrap it around her stomach. The key was slipped inside the tightened cloth, where it could no longer be seen, especially after wearing her running top. She made sure to jump, run, stretch all around the room. The key didn't move.

She was ready. 

⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞

Emery missed running. She took laps and laps all around town, enjoying the fresh mountain air, the sun beating down on her skin, and the burn in her lungs. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline and exhilaration of cardio, but the town felt livelier today. She noticed more people out and about, running their errands and visiting the stores. Seth had a point; a break was well overdue. Staying cooped up in the library all the time had deprived her of relaxation.

"How're we holding up?" Emery exclaimed over her shoulder. Seth's cheeks were ablaze, the collar of his shirt soaked through with sweat. Laughing, she slowed down her pace so he could catch up. 

Seth's eyes twinkled in hope as he asked, "Are we done?"

She looked back down the street, where a small dirt path led up to Bellenau's woods. "I want to run there," she told him, pointing at the lush trees, providing little light into the road ahead. Just one quick run through the woods and they'd go home. 

Seth cursed under his breath and reluctantly followed as she sprinted toward the path.

Bellenau's woods were untouched by machinery or construction. Here, nature thrived with all types of flora, from trees to shrubs to flowers. The forest floor was covered in cool shade, occasionally broken up by the patches of sunlight that broke through the tree canopy. 

Her legs burned as she picked up the pace, enjoying the incline. Her feet pounded harder and harder against the leaf-ridden ground.

She could see a clearing up ahead, where no trees or big plants stood. There was only grass, covered in a scarce sheet of purple flowers. Emery came to a dry halt, her chest heaving up and down, her blood pumping. She felt so alive. 

Her ecstasy was interrupted by the gasping, sweaty red-head that was just catching up to her, unable to sprint anymore. 

Emery tried to hold in her laughter. "A break?" she asked, wiping the sweat off her forehead and stretching her legs. 

Seth clenched his sweaty t-shirt and fanned it while he tried to catch his breath. "Yes," he huffed out, his cheeks chili-red from exertion.

It was time to settle down and relax, so she took a seat on the grassy floor and stared up at the pristine summer sky. The day was so hot, there wasn't a cloud in sight. Her hand reached out to grab a singular little purple flower. Its color vibrantly contrasted with the green. "Hey, Seth, do you know what flower this is?"

"Huh?" Seth, who'd been leaning against a tree trying to catch his breath, turned his head toward her. Without his glasses, he had to walk closely and sit next to her to see what she meant. He plucked the flower from her grasp and turned it around. "Catmint," was the answer.

"Catmint," Emery repeated, caressing a nearby bushel of flowers. "It's pretty."

He fell back against the grass, groaning from the burning muscles throughout his whole body. "How do you do this every day?" he exclaimed, wiping his sweat off with the neck of his shirt. His freckles seemed more prominent after being in the sun all morning. She wanted to poke his reddened cheek. 

Resisting the urge, Emery stared back up at the blue sky and shrugged. "After a while, you start to like it. It challenges you. Plus, it's nice to have some muscle." She lifted her legs to show her defined calves and thighs.

"I don't think I'll ever like it," he confessed so breathlessly it made Emery giggle. 

"That's okay too. I like you skinny and soft."

Emery felt Seth slip his hand into hers; the smallest gesture made her heartbeat quicken more than the run did. It was enough to make a smile sneak into her features without permission. 

"Em," he started. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

She knitted her dark eyebrows in worry. If she had to guess, this had to do with what she'd overheard last night. 

"I've been thinking . . . Maybe it's time we go home."

Bingo, she knew it. Emery bit her tongue and waited for him to continue before answering. 

"I notice it's been really hard finding anything useful, making you hit a lot of dead ends . . . Maybe it's a sign that you should stop."

Her fingers pinched off blades of grass and threw them a few feet away. If she didn't distract herself, she'd lose her temper. "I need to find out the truth about what happened to my grandparents, and about what's happening to me. I can't go yet," her tone was flat and decisive.

"What if you're not meant to find it? Some things are just meant to stay as mysteries."

If only she had a better explanation, something that didn't involve magical keys and boxes. But there wasn't a reasonable answer. Still, she tried to convince him. "Well, this one isn't. I need to know. I'm going to find out," she corrected herself.  

"Come on, Em," he sighed, sitting up to scratch the nape of his neck nervously. "This investigation is causing you so much pain. It'd be best to go home, find another therapist—"

"There is no other therapist. Dr. Lloyd is the only one certified to give the psych exam in our district. If I don't take it there, I can't work in Wimborne."

"Well," he stopped, letting go of a nervous exhale. "I was thinking maybe you try something else? Other than a cop?"

Emery couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stood up in fury, with one accusing finger poking his chest. "You did not just ask me to give up!" 

"Em, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down! I worked my butt off for four years! And suffered through months of therapy to have this. I'm not giving up, just because I'm going through a rough patch."

Seth scowled, standing up as well. "You always say that. You're always 'going through this or that'. Don't you think there's a reason for that? Why do you want to become a cop so bad anyway? You can be anything else, Emery! Literally, anything else. Why do you want this so bad?"

"I—" the words got caught in her tongue. Feeling pressed into a corner, she turned it back around on him. "Why are you pressuring me all of a sudden? You promised me a few weeks. It's barely been one."

Seth slumped his shoulders. She knew he hated to fight.

"My supervisor called . . ." He sighed, running a hand through his humid curls. "They're starting a new program for TAs. We get to do our own seminars on campus. He said if I prepared a great lecture, I could get to present it at high schools all around the state. I could get recommendation letters. Not to mention, it'd look great on a resume."

"So, what's the problem?"

"They gave me two weeks."

"Oh . . ." Two weeks . . . And they were here—a town with poor internet and little resources. It'd be nearly impossible to do decent research. She knew Seth was very thorough with these types of things, and she couldn't exactly ask him to give up this opportunity.

"Then go home. I'll go when I'm done," she tried to convince him, avoiding his concerned gaze. 

"Em . . ." Seth sighed, reaching for her hand. "I'm worried about you. I can't just leave you here alone. Please, let's go home. Together."

Emery groaned in frustration, letting go of his hands. Why couldn't she have broken into the cellar two days ago and spared herself this awful conversation? Maybe then he'd grasp why staying here is important. 

The only fair solution was, "Give me one week."

He scowled, clearly not pleased with her decision, but she didn't falter in her perseverance. "Just one week to find what I'm looking for. Then, I promise we'll go. I'll help you with your research if you want."

"I don't know. . . ."

"Please," she begged, grabbing his hands, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. "Just one."

"Okay," he agreed. 

Seven days to unearth Bellenau's secrets . . . her sleep schedule was about to get thoroughly fucked.