A thousand thoughts raced through Emery's head as they took the slowest walk ever toward Mrs. Baker's home. The air between her and Seth seemed ridden with tension and awkwardness. 

"We're fine," Emery burst out, unable to stand the silence. "Right? This isn't a big fight. No biggie."

Seth sighed, throwing his head back to stare up at the sunny sky. "Em, for the third time . . . Yes. We're fine."

"Alright, I get it," she groaned. 

Christ, I'm turning into my mother. 

Her eyes kept darting around the wooden buildings, trying to find any topic of conversation but came up short. Frustrated, she crossed her arms over her chest and dragged her feet, causing dust and dirt to fly off the sidewalk. A small pebble served as a distraction. Emery kicked it with her sneaker and watched it roll forward every few steps. 

They were already near the house and still hadn't talked about a thing. "It's just . . ." she started up again. 

"Em." Seth stretched an arm in front of her, making her bump against it and stumble back.  

Surprised—and frankly annoyed—, she pushed his forearm away and glared up at him. "Alright! I'll stop," she exclaimed. Geez, she just wanted to make conversation. 

But, Seth wasn't looking at her. His gaze was set far away; his brow furrowed in distress. "No, look," he told her, lifting his arm to point down the street. 

About a dozen people stood in front of Mrs. Baker's front porch. Most of them were huddled together, looking expectantly as Sheriff Lila came down the steps and walked toward her cop car, parked across the street. Some tried to stop her, probably asking questions, but Lila only pushed up her sunglasses and walked faster. 

Emery immediately thought the worst. The image of Mrs. Baker on a gurney flashed through her imagination, and her heart sped up from the nerves. 

In a second, Emery disappeared from Seth's side, taking off in a quick sprint toward the house.  She ran with all her might, ignoring the burn in her legs and feet, but even running at full speed was not enough. By the time she was getting close, Sheriff Lila had already gotten in her car and pulled away from the house. 

"Crap," she gasped out, slowing down to a halt. The exertion was too much, she had to bend over, with hands upon her knees, to settle her heaving breath. After seconds, she finally settled and turned toward the house. Too focused on catching Lila on time, Emery hadn't realized the small audience had turned all their attention to her. 

With a bashful rubor spreading across her features, she weaved through the townsfolk, mumbling apologies along the way. In the middle of the crowd, a stout elderly man whispered, "See? That's her. I told Baker. Wrights are bad news."

"She should've listened," a tight-lipped woman replied, casting a haughty gaze over Emery. 

She ignored the whispers and ran up the steps, quickly rapping on the door. "Mrs. Baker? Mrs. Baker, open up! It's Emery," she called, her voice faltering from the fear that something horrible had happened. 

"Hold on," she heard Seth call from behind her. "I've got a key." The red-head rushed to her side, unlocking the door. Emery looked over her shoulder as the spectators cast curious glances inside. She pushed Seth through the doorway and closed it behind them, eager to be out of their sight.

"Mrs. Baker?" Seth yelled.

With her eyes firmly shut, she listened in fear there'd be no answer. 

"Oh, kids!" Her shrill, high tone had never been so welcoming. Emery opened her eyes and saw the woman exit her room down the hallway and rush toward them. A sense of relief rained over her, easing up her tense shoulders. 

"I'm so happy you're okay!" Emery exclaimed, starting forwards to wrap the woman in a tight hug. "What happened?"

"Someone broke in," Mrs. Baker answered as she eased out of her embrace.

The blood in her veins went cold.

The box, the box, the box . . . It was all she could think about. She nervously glanced around, her fingers in a slight tremble. Nothing seemed out of place. The house looked messy, but not out of sorts, j like it always had. 

"Everything looks fine," Seth spoke, walking toward his room. He disappeared down the hallway, out of Emery's sight. "All my things are here," he yelled. 

"I can't make sense of it. I searched the house high and low with Lila, and nothing was missing." 

"Then, how do you know someone broke in?" Seth asked, stepping back toward them. 

Emery needed to go check her room. What if they took it? 

"Take a peek at the kitchen," Mrs. Baker told him. "Look what they did to my door."

Both him and Emery walked swiftly toward the entrance she spoke about. As soon as they stepped inside, she gasped in shock. There was now a gaping hole where the door had been. 

They took it. She was sure of it. 

"What the . . ." Seth gawked, while Emery ran past him to stare at the remains of the yellow wood that served as the entrance. It was torn to pieces now, sprawled over the kitchen floor. Chunks of wood hung off the hinges.

The girl neared the broken doorway. The wood had been burnt. Had the maniac blown up the door?! 

Her heart pounded violently as she flipped back around. "Will you excuse me a second?"

If they did blow it up, how did they manage to contain the flames to the door alone? It didn't look like the flames had spread or touched anything past the entrance. Who were these people?

"Em? You okay?" Seth asked her. 

Emery could only nod as she walked past him. She wanted to scream. "I just want to check my room. Make sure everything's there," she lied swiftly, picking up her pace toward the stairs. 

"Oh, we checked your room too. Everything seemed untouched."

"Just making sure," she exclaimed, already running up the stairs. The door to her room was ajar. She walked even faster. The closet was open. The cardboard boxes were pulled out of the closet ever-so-slightly. To anyone else, it seemed nothing had changed, but she knew better. 

"No, no, no, no," she cried, practically dragging herself toward the closet. Her hands reached in and pulled out every single thing inside each box. When there was nothing left to pull out, her fingers only picked up speckles of grey dust and dirt. "Damn it." 

Emery stuck her head in the space, turning on her phone's flashlight. There was nothing there. The box had been stolen. 

⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞

"Thank you so much for helping me. I don't think I could've done it alone," Mrs. Baker gushed, watching as Emery and Seth finished sealing the gap in the house with a blue tarp. It took them a few hours to make sure it was completely sealed. Otherwise, vermin and insects might've gotten in.

"It's the least we could do," Emery told her. Her conscience was ridden with guilt. After all, it was because of her that the door had been torn to shreds. "You're sure you want to stay here tonight?"

She nodded. "Wouldn't feel safe anywhere else. Besides, Lila said she'd send patrols more often to make sure we're okay."

Emery was shocked Mrs. Baker hadn't thrown them out by now. In fact, she'd insisted on them staying. Having no proof or reason for the door being broken, she couldn't blame them, but it made Emery feel even worse. 

"I called a carpenter; he should be here in a few days to fix it," Seth told her, wiping his brow. 

"I'd like to pay for the repairs if that's okay," Emery told the old woman, while she picked up the tools off the floor and set them back in their metal box. "As thanks for our stay."

"Oh, well . . . I couldn't possibly. . . ."

"Please say you'll take it," Seth interrupted. "You won't hear the end of it if you don't."

"Alright," Mrs. Baker agreed, her mouth turning up into a grin. "I'll prepare a good, hearty dinner. You've exercised entirely too much today."

Seth sighed, muttering, "Tell me about it," under his breath. 

"If you don't mind. I need to take the evidence boxes back to Sheriff Lila, but I'll be back before dinner." Emery backed out of the room. Her hand instinctively touched her side and felt comfort knowing the golden key was in her grasp. She'd rewrapped it after taking a shower. There was no way she was letting it out of her sight this time. At least, not until she found a better place to hide it.

"Alright, be careful." Mrs. Baker barely listened, already arranging her ingredients. She seemed a touch out of it. Almost too calm . . . But, Emery couldn't lose time figuring out if there was something wrong with her. 

She paced toward the door, swiftly picking up the boxes from the living room on the way. As soon as her fingers made a move toward the doorknob, a hand held her back by the shoulder. 

"You really think it's smart to go running around after someone broke in? It's getting late." Seth snatched the boxes away, narrowing his gaze at her. 

She didn't have time for this! She needed to find Lila and talk to her about the box.

"I can take care of myself," she retorted, making a move to grab the boxes.

He stopped for a moment, pinching his lips together. They stared into each other's eyes for seconds. The tension didn't break until Seth let out a defeated groan. 

"I'll drive you . . ." He looked so tired. Under eyes were tinged grey, posture slumped, his gaze had lost its luster. It was obvious he was exhausted. 

Emery grabbed the boxes once more and set them down on the floor before taking his wrist and settling him down in a nearby chair. "Look," she caught his attention by pinching his cheeks between her hands. "I'll be back in an hour tops. Phone is fully charged. I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, need some rest."

Seth could barely talk with his lips puckered under her grip. Only when he nodded did she let him go and turn toward the exit. 

"Text me every half hour," was his only condition.

"Will do!" she exclaimed opening the door and picking up the boxes. "Love you." Before he could protest again, she ran out the door and locked it behind her. 

Mrs. Baker had mentioned the police station was just a few streets away from the library. Without a moment to spare, she hurried to Seth's car, placing the boxes into the backseat. After taking another glance up at Mrs. Baker's home, she was hit with yet another wave of guilt. 

As long as she stayed there, she put the old woman in danger. She needed to find out what that cursed box and key were, and why there was someone after them. 

Feeling more urgency than before, she got into the driver's seat and pulled away from the house. A slight burn dug into her side, from where she kept the key. It must've been chaffing her after having it tied to her ribs all day. It was getting increasingly uncomfortable. 

Ignoring the discomfort, she turned the car into another street. The police station came into view. By its shabby porch and windows, it was hard to tell what it was. The windowsill's police logos had faded away. The sign had been taken down. The only way she recognized it was by the police car left in front of it. 

As soon as she was parked, she grabbed the boxes out of the car and walked up to the wooden front door, knocking fiercely. "Hello? Sheriff Lila?"

The door unlocked and flew open without warning, making Emery lose her balance and stumble forward. After barely managing to regain her composure and not drop the evidence, she whipped around to glare at a tall, burly man, wearing a uniform similar to Lila's. 

The man studied her for a couple of seconds. "You're Emery? Lila told me to expect you," he stated plainly, not bothering to apologize or ask if she was okay. He just walked past her toward a tall table in the middle of the room, where he grabbed a white cup of steaming coffee. He leaned against a blank whiteboard hung on the left wall.

Emery gazed around her. There wasn't much to look at, but several empty chairs and tables. However, she did notice the door labeled with the words 'Sheriff's Office' over blurred glass. She wondered if Lila was inside. 

"You can lay the boxes there," the brute said, nudging his head at the table. He took a long gulp of his drink, his brown eyes looking at her over the brim of his cup. 

Emery never dropped her glare as she set the boxes down. "What's your name?"

"Asher," was his flat reply, while he scratched his salt and pepper stubble. "Is that all you came for?"

Why was he rushing her? It didn't look like he was busy. "Where's Sheriff Lila?"

"Gone home for the day. She had plans."

Crud . . . 

"Guess I'll go then." Emery eased away, studying the man carefully. He didn't seem to be interested in her or in anything for that matter. 

"That'd be best," he told her, following her out. "There's a thief loose, you know."

"So, I hear," she quickly replied, stopping once she was out on the porch. 

Asher cast her a wary look, taking one last sip of his coffee. "Go home, Wright." He shut the door in her face, making Emery stumble back. 

Guess the rumors had turned around her family name now. Three different cases where the Wright family was involved. She couldn't blame people for thinking she was cursed. It might've been true.  

With a loud groan, she stomped back down the porch. She'd have to wait till tomorrow to find Lila. Another day . . . Wasted. That left her six days and a heap of nerves to deal with. 

Two chimes startled her. She nearly jumped into a defense stance before she realized it was her phone. A glance at her phone screen showed a text from Seth reading, "How's it going?"

Her hand slid down her face as she took the deepest breath. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to him with empty hands. If she did, she was sure to be met with more reminders of why it was best they leave early. With a door-blasting maniac on the loose, Seth had too many reasons as to why they should pack up and run from Bellenau.

No way. She couldn't handle that right now. 

After a second's hesitation, she replied, "Still at the station. Might take a while," and stuffed her phone back in her backpack. 

With a squinted gaze toward the setting sun, she saw a grassy clearing they'd run past in the morning. She didn't care to hurry home. Her head was a mess. She wanted a walk. 

So, she strolled down the street until she met the wide opening between a lumber shop and a small cabin home. She kept walking aimlessly past the buildings, and past the pine trees and shrubs along the way. She didn't know where she was headed, but it felt nice to be outside and not think. 

Emery reached a point where no building or grove could come between her and the setting sun—a small cliff at the very edge of the town. Her eyes focused on a fluffy, lilac cloud flying between two mountain peaks. It was the only one in sight. 

"Ugh . . ." Emery complained. The burn had returned to her side. But . . . It wasn't just chaffing. The key was heating up. "Ouch, ouch, ouch," she repeated over and over as she lifted her shirt and hastily unwrapped herself. The hot key fell into her lap. 

"What the fuck?" she gasped, eyes wide in disbelief. The key wasn't just burning up on its own, but pulsating gold. She brought the key closer to her gaze, studying it carefully. Her thumb traced along the handle's carvings. Upon closer inspection, she noticed they were words in some text she didn't understand. 

Only one word was understandable. She brought it forth, barely above a whisper, "Izoven."

A cold chill traveled up and down Emery's spine, making her flinch. The air around her turned heavy and quiet. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Someone was watching her. 

Ever so slowly, she turned her head, looking over the edge of her eye.

She froze. 

Two legs stood behind her, just inches away from her back. 

Another shiver went down her spine as a gruff voice asked, "Emery Wright, is it?"