"Lucky you found him when you did, sweetheart, or he would have belonged to the good lord's heaven," Sheriff Burwell pronounced, taking a sip of his winter coke. The county office was abuzz with a flurry of activity. The prospect of getting a piece of the latest Anaxan action was a temptation too hard to resist. Amy focused her attention on the colorful stationary display on the wooden desk; finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the rotund, pasty man fidgeting on a precarious swivel chair in front of her.

"I'm sorry, do y'all want one?" He splashed his silly red-strawed drink towards Amy and her father before continuing without waiting for an answer. "Your friends say you were doing extra credit for your nature class."

Amy swallowed. "Yes, Sir. An ecological study of the local flora and fauna."

Standing behind the balding crown of the indigo-uniformed officer, Caleb clapped his hands. "Among other more sinister curiosities."

"And how do you know young Wesley Broad?" Burwell asked, burping disinterestedly. After all, he had a sleazy reputation to uphold.

Amy glanced at her father who squeezed her hand reassuringly, before saying, "He is in my grade though we hardly ever spoke."

Except that one time he called me a bitch and I punched the daylights out of him.

"Was he conscious when you found him?" Burwell continued, flipping through a lengthy report before stopping at her name. "You tried to revive him but he was foaming at the mouth. Then you called emergency services. Is that right?"

Amy stared at him, wondering if he would ever get to the point. After dispatch had taken Wesley to Northeast Georgia Medical Center, her twilight nightmare had imprinted a bright red and blue in her irises, reverberating with the soundtrack of sirens. Deputy Lee had recorded her statement as Gemma fussed over her twisted ankle; Amy's voice shook at each word.

Midnight brought no respite as Amy tossed and turned in bed, suffering a wakeful torment of cobalt eyes staring lifelessly at her instead from the frozen forest bed.

Every flutter sharpened terror against the delicate skin of her eyelids.

Caleb chose not to come home with her. This time his absence bruised Amy.

Breakfast at the Irvines had been unusually quiet, only to be bolstered by the Sheriff's call asking her to visit the station for a "chat". Routine investigative paperwork, Burwell assured her parents. Robin and Gemma had been summoned as well.

"Amy?" Her father leaned forward, the worried lines on his face disrupting her reverie.

She crossed her feet. "Yes, I turned him to his side and called 911."

"You are a hero to us all," Caleb said, trying to blow away the few strands of hair that still clung to the officer's scalp. "You found a body in the woods on your first try! Just not the right one."

She couldn't comprehend how he could be so cavalier after confessing his darkest fear. Amy swore she'd seen flickers of incandescent guilt between the freckles that dotted his cheeks when they stumbled upon Wesley's body. But that hurt, angry, and confused boy had been kidnapped and replaced by the one that was currently pestering her.

Amy wondered if her emotions could pirouette just as dramatically in one night.

"There was no physical or verbal confrontation between you and Mr. Broad?" Burwell said.

A gleeful Caleb interjected, "Can I please be the one to tell him?"

Amy couldn't afford to be that carefree. It had been a few days since she had encountered the frenetic drug addict. Could her DNA still be on him? Making a split-second decision, she figured that they wouldn't check it anyway unless Wesley remembered seeing Amy that night, which was unlikely. "No, like I said, he was passed out when I found him."

"I hope there isn't a problem here, Sheriff Burwell," her father added.

Realizing that she had begun falling into step with Caleb's swinging emotions, Amy tried to bring some agency back in her favor; to see if this effect he had on her flowed the other way too. She plastered a painful expression on her face and gazed directly at him, past the Sheriff's shoulders. "What will happen to Wesley now?"

"The community is shoring up some funds so that Mr. Broad may be rehabilitated at Mount Sinai." The sheriff looked at Christopher pointedly. "As a member of the town council, you know the wellness center is as notorious for being expensive as it is for being effective."

"Oh, I have a huge pool of customers over there," Caleb said. He was sitting on the desk, playful as a housecat. "I'm shocked old podgy here hasn't figured out the connection yet."

Amy's father stood up. "If that is all officer..."

"Yes, please. I can't wait to get out of this guy's hair, not that it's going to be very difficult," Caleb said, now trying to raise Sheriff Burwell's hair through static. "Abracadabra, you fat mother-"

"Caleb Dawson!" Sheriff Burwell exclaimed.

Amy flinched violently. Caleb froze, his mouth agape.

"Caleb Dawson," the man continued, only a swipe of ruddy brown eyes indicating that he had noticed her reaction. "Are you two pals, Amy?"

Amy shook her head; the thumping beat of her heart a dull ache somewhere in her throat. "He is - we have Calculus and History together."

Her father put pressure on Amy's shoulder. "I am not sure why you are asking about that boy, Sheriff."

"Oh no just procedure," Burwell said. "You see my sources tell me that the only provider for Anaxan around these parts was Caleb Dawson. Troubled kid, from what I hear."

Amy recovered a little from her shock. "But he is missing."

"Aren't you quite the smart one?" Burwell said, his fat finger wagging appreciatively. "But you also have a temper if I'm to believe your friends from school."

Caleb whistled. "Maybe he isn't that big of a dud after all."

Her father's voice started rising. "Vance, if you have a point I suggest you -"

"No need for that as of now," Burwell cut him, smoothing over his hair. With a sycophantic smile, he drummed his fingers over the now-closed file. "If the boys find anything else I'll drop a line. Thank you for your time, Christopher; Amy."

A silver brume had descended over Sirencester weeping with a chill that sank straight to the bone. Gemma and Robin were waiting in the lobby with their mothers, shuddering every time the sliding doors opened.

Robin's hands burrowed deep in his pockets. "You look lovely. I gather you didn't sleep well either."

Mrs. Mendes smacked him upside the head. Even though they weren't really related, they had startlingly similar curly chestnut hair. "Junior year has barely begun and you lot are in trouble with the law! I know the girls went searching for you."

"Mom!"

Gemma said, "We didn't go looking for trouble you know." Her wide eyes were propped up by dark bags as they signaled Amy. She looked like a deranged owl. "I bet nobody saw it coming."

Amy realized she was referring to Caleb. "Oh, the sheriff is going to look deeper into the case and let us know if something's up."

Robin let out a kittenish yawn. He had never been a fan of the 'girly telepathy' they shared.

Mrs. Craft thrust a cashmere scarf into her daughter's hands. "Gemma darlin', y'all have been through enough today. Let's get you home."

"Yeah, we need to get ready for the party tonight," Gemma said, looping an arm through Amy's. "Can't even imagine how long it'll be before this raccoon is presentable again."

Christopher folded his arms across his chest, squaring down at Amy. "I don't think you kids should be getting into any more misadventures. Especially you."

So not the time to play bad cop, father dearest. "But Dad! We promised Natasha. It's her birthday!" Amy whined.

"I don't wanna hear anything, you are going home and straight to bed!"

"It's one o'clock!"

"Afternoon naps are the best."

The other adults agreed, effectively grounding their children in one fell swoop.

Gemma pinched Robin's arm. "We didn't do anything wrong! And if we hadn't found Wes, he could've died. You can't lock us up for this. Robin, tell them!"

"Sweetheart, I know you don't even take ecology," said Mrs. Craft, adjusting her purse as Robin nursed the hurt spot. "You three need to lay low not parade into parties like a bunch of floozies."

Only Robin didn't argue; His eyes bore into the back of Amy's skull as she and Gemma exchanged their rebellious non-verbal plans while putting on a show that could rival primetime telenovelas.

The car ride home was a monologue of phony warnings and ineffective punishments. Her father could never really bring himself to truly reprimand his girls while her mother could shame Godzilla into hiding. Anne's withering stare sent Amy straight to her room where she barricaded herself against the 'where-did-I-go-wrong-in-raising-you' lecture.

She began fixin' Natasha's gift and the hours slipped by.

The first twinkle of the evening star over the suburbs was truly felt when Caleb's booming voice cut clean across the yard. "Did someone order a smoking hot spectre?"

Amy put down the superglue she was using on Natasha's birthday present and made a face from the window.

Caleb flipped her off. "One-night only, Ames."

Her parents were cuddled up on the couch, watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, both too exhausted to deal with their errant daughter. Even before she had reached the landing - always remembering to avoid the creaky step - Anne turned her head probingly.

"Wind blew the ribbon right out of my hands," Amy explained, opening the door for the grinning devil. Putting up appearances she fished the bright green roll out of her pocket. "What do you know, flew right up against the door!"

Caleb wasn't even fully inside the foyer before he turned into a chatterbox. "To my massive surprise, Burwell has not been a complete waste of space. He has already busted some of my buddies in the business but hasn't quite managed to put his grubby little mitts on any XP yet." He turned his pretty nose up at the bits of paper, washy tape, and glitter stuck to her hands, salmon shorts, and one really oblivious earlobe. "And he thinks you are a potential link between Wes and me, virtually making you a target."

"Or a suspect," said Amy, shutting the bedroom door and raising the speaker volume so that The Weeknd could muffle their conversation against eavesdropping family members.

Amy wasn't scared of Burwell, but this new development made her realize that they were against a serious contender in the race to find out what happened to Caleb Dawson. The pair could still make up for lost time though, capitalizing on the golden ticket they had for the night.

Digging out a smudgy whiteboard from under her bed, Amy placed it on her desk and began scrubbing it clean with acetone. She contemplated being mad at Caleb for abandoning her after they found Wes but ultimately decided it wasn't a priority. "Now, I'm going to make a list of all our existing leads and everyone you interacted with the day you disappeared. And Caleb...?"

Caleb was chuckling to himself at her DIY present for Natasha Boynton. When he finally glanced at her, the ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. "Yes, in reverse chronological order? Or by who-is-the-most-shady-looking?"

Massacring her yearbook, Amy cut out everybody she thought could be involved and hummed in agreement. Keeping up with Caleb could cause the wind to tap out. She placed a surly picture of the spectre in the center of the board and hesitated before writing, 'MISSING' in bold, ruby letters over his head.

Amy peeked at him. "... we never talked about what you said last -"

"Dude, it's cool," Caleb said, holding up his palm. "I was losing it and you threw me the nearest bone you could find. Between the two of us, we don't wear desperate and hopeless very well."

"All I'm saying is that we should not jump to any conclusions without concrete proof."

Caleb sobered up a little. "Aye aye, Captain. And I'm sorry too, I didn't mean what I said. Though I still think your experiments are lame."

Amy conceded that her feelings had been sentenced to playing second-fiddle to the lost boy only she could see. She shook her head. "I just want what you want, Caleb."

He tore his eyes from her face and gestured to the board. "So, who do we have here?"

Under 'direct contact', Amy placed her own needlessly happy face from sophomore year. "Me, obviously. And Robin who was working at the popcorn stand, the mystery woman, and Wesley -"

"Except I never met Wes that night, he was a no-show."

Amy transferred him to a section farther away. "What did the woman look like?"

"Tall, pale, and weirdly, she was wearing a cloak."

"Wasn't she the one working the tarot booth?"

Caleb scratched his chin. "I didn't see her there so I can't be sure. Any chance renaissance cloaks making a comeback?"

That left Ashton, Cecile, Natasha, Gemma, and whoever they were with at the carnival. Despite his remonstrations, Amy included Jason, Stefan, and the rest of the gorillas from Caleb's football team. She said, "I also need a general picture of your clientele. There was a guy with Wesley that night, scraggy stubble, heavy-set; a senior I think."

Like a mogul guarding his trade secrets, Caleb stared at her, cobalt eyes drawn into slits. But before Amy could begin her tirade about trust, he started listing the people he tendered his off-brand pharmaceutical services to. "... and the one with Wes that night could've been Milo - he dropped out a couple of years ago but does show up to deal sometimes. The rest of the adults in town are no better but they do keep off the hardcore stuff."

She tacked on Sheriff Burwell's stout face from a newspaper clipping. Tit for tat.

"Don't forget about that thing we saw in the forest."

"It could've been a coyote. Hardly merits mention on the board."

"Weren't you terrified when it was looking at us?" Caleb said with a tremble in his voice, holding himself tighter.

Realizing that he was truly spooked, Amy conceded and drew a puppy on the board with a speech bubble saying, 'Fluff you, Caleb!'.

He gave her the faintest of smiles.

Amy scrutinized the board with familiar faces and My Little Pony substitutes for the suspects they didn't have pictures of. RGB marker lines in labelled design traversed the mystery map, bringing the multifarious profile to full circle, with Caleb's striking face in the center of it all.

Caleb tried to pull Amy's cheeks, his fingertips searing their puffy surface. "I gotta say I agree with Sheriff Burwell. You are the cutest maybe-murderer on here."

"Go away!" Amy swatted his hands away but naturally, she missed by a mile. Sighing, she moved out of Caleb's reach and tried to ignore the swooping sensation in her stomach.

Quite some time had passed since her parents had turned in for the night, and the great game was afoot. Amy spent the better part of an hour gearing up for battle. A sage-green knit bodysuit was her armor and she wielded her glittery green eyeshadow like a sword. Not too much but enough to get them talking.

As she went back in the room to straighten her hair, Amy's phone lit up with the seventeenth message from Ashton in addition to the numerous voicemails and missed calls that cluttered her notification bar.

I heard about Wes. Are you ok?

"You stood him up and he's still texting you?" Caleb's voice rose a few octaves in disbelief. "Damn girl, what are you putting in your milkshake?"

"None of your wares to be sure," Amy said, gently dropping her shoes and bag from the window in an old cardboard box secured with makeshift rope. Her hands stung as she crawled on the flat tiles below her window toward the tree in her backyard - the one Ashton had frequented in the past to sneak into her room. Clasping its cold branches, Amy carefully lowered herself onto solid ground. Desperate times...

Caleb had a mad glint in his eyes as he looked down at her from the edge of the grey gabble roof.

Amy realized what he was about to do a second too late and instinctively screwed her eyes shut, covering her face.

When she dared to look around, he was nowhere in sight. Did he bounce off into space?

"Boo!"

Jumping out of her skin, Amy hissed. "I think I liked you better when you were pitchin' a fit."

"You wish you were as cool as me." Caleb wiggled his eyebrows. "A little ungraceful but that was insane! I wanna go higher."

Picking up her bike from behind the shed, Amy and Caleb walked among rows of old residential buildings - some quiet with soft curtained lights, number nine repugnant with overflowing trash out in the front, and number fifteen at the very end of the street blasting power ballads.

"Amy..." Caleb began, his voice brimming with libertine promise. "I want to have some fun tonight."

She fingered the bell on her bicycle, playing from the backfoot again. There he goes, Amy thought scathingly. Waiting for me to ask 'how high?' when he commands me to jump.

"I know we have the whole investigation planned out but c'mon it's the craziest party of the season! I need to see you lose control just a little bit." Caleb pinched his fingers together to quantify; his words rushing to surpass each other. "Have fun on my behalf. We can always go back to 'where's my body?!' and 'science, bitch!' tomorrow."

At the end of the street and her wits due to Caleb's uncanny impression of their usual cat-and-mouse banter, Amy straddled her bike. "Hop on."

"We could play truth or drink."

"Caleb, you can't drink."

"Twister?"

"Dude, stop."

"Strip charades?" he smirked, bargaining his troubles away. "I know you want a peek at the goodies."

"Okay! Jesus, once we are through with everyone and if we still have time - then yes - we can do all the stupid shit you want," Amy acquiesced. She would die before admitting that some of his suggestions did seem intriguing. "Now, let's go."

Caleb took a beat. "What if I fall?"

"You just jumped fifteen feet off the ground! Surely you won't die sliding off a bike."

With no prospect of feeling his weight behind her, Amy had to turn to visually confirm if the stubborn boy had complied or not. She found him on the seat but with his back to her. Such a brat.

"What are you doing?" Amy asked in a bemused tone.

"What's the point of sitting behind a pretty girl if I can't hold her?"

Amy felt as if a thousand suns had set in her veins; warm at first, then shiveringly cold. Her hair whipped behind as they rolled down the hill to the other side. The momentum pushed Caleb's head to nestle against her back and even through her overcoat, his heat seared her flesh. Does it feel sharper somehow?

Just as they rode past the gates to Natasha Boynton's Antebellum mansion, Amy put the invite with the goat-insignia between her teeth. The guards were impassionate but didn't stop her. She had to walk her bike through a throng of excited people lining the majestic oak alley leading up to the house. Caleb caused stumbling casualties wherever he stepped.

The ancient trees were covered with a psychedelic display of neon fairy lights exploding overhead in a hypnotic, loving daze.

Gatsby would feel small.

Bass beat rattled delicate fixtures and crown moldings as Amy gazed at a holographic pentagram shining brilliantly above the house. She deposited her bike near one of the swan-shaped topiaries.

Caleb's eyes were bright simulations of the ghastly mark as he stood next to her. "After you, detective."

✧

A/N: And we have arrived at the hottest party of the year! Raise your hand if you're ready for some crazy shit to go down.

Finding no proper segue into this because my hands are shaking as I type, thank you so much for 10k! I had never imagined in a million years that I would be saying this so soon. You guys give me hope to carry on despite overwhelming odds. Know that I am forever grateful beyond words. 💫