Her apartment was cold as Sara shut the door behind her, walking into her living room and sinking onto the sofa as she pulled her phone out of her pocket, pausing and biting her lip as the screensaver of Leah and Sara smiling and laughing appeared. She slid upward, typed in her password, and then hit her voicemail app with her thumb.

Why did Leah call me that night? The night that she died?

The unheard message stared up at Sara from the screen. From Leah at 8:37 PM Monday.

At 8:41 PM, Leah had texted her to say not to bother calling her back as she was going to bed early.

According to the medical examiner, Leah had died between nine and nine-thirty that night. Bullet to the chest. Lying on the floor. In the living room, between the L-shaped sofa and the television.

So what, Darius walked in on her and that witness on the floor?

This didn't make sense.

Someone is lying.

My bet is it's Darius.

Sara opened the voicemail.

"Hey, Sara, it's Leah. Look, I...I need to say something. I wasn't totally honest Saturday over coffee when I told you why I was divorcing Darius." She sighed. "Sara, it turns out Darius isn't who I thought he was. He doesn't sell guns for a living or travel to gun shows or any of that, he doesn't do any of what he told me and you and Mom and Dad...." There was a long silence. "Pick up, Sara! I know you're not out anywhere. You never go anywhere Monday night. I need to talk to you in person, not over this stupid machine." In the background, Sara heard the sound of a thump, like Leah had hit the coffee table she had most likely been sitting in front of. "Okay, fine, I'll say it now but only because I'm scared, Sara. Darius is – oh, no."

The beep signaling the end of the message startled Sara and she stared at her phone blankly, now sorry she had decided to grab dinner with Jack that night. What happened, Leah? What were you going to tell me? Why were you divorcing Darius? Why couldn't you tell me?

Then a new thought struck her. Perhaps Darius came in. Perhaps that's why she hung up.

Sara glanced at the timestamp again. 8:37 PM the message came in. 8:41 PM Leah texted her. Between nine and nine-thirty, Darius shot Leah when she was supposedly with her lover.

Minimum of twenty minutes between the text following the message and the earliest time of Leah's death.

Twenty minutes.

Okay. If Leah left me this message about who Darius really was and ended up cutting it off worriedly...if she was so worried, why would she then go and spend some time with her lover? That's not the Leah I knew, not at all.

Leah didn't do that.

Darius and his witness were both lying.

Sara stood and began pacing the room, brow furrowed. I knew it. Leah wasn't cheating. She would never cheat. Darius made that up. He made it all up.

He murdered Leah.

He murdered my sister!

Sara stopped by the window and shifted the curtain, gazing out at the falling snow. How do I get justice for Leah? I know he did it, but how do I prove it? And before his plea deal is sealed and he pleads guilty to voluntary manslaughter?

Before my chance is past?

Sara resumed her pacing before stopping to replay Leah's message, listening for any clues she might have missed the first time around, any indication of what direction she should go in.

"Sara, it turns out Darius isn't who I thought he was. He doesn't sell guns for a living or travel to gun shows or any of that, he doesn't do any of what he told me and you and Mom and Dad...."

So who is Darius? If Darius doesn't work for a gun store...if he doesn't work for Chip's Guns and Ammo, then what does he do? What does he do for a living?

Sara stared out the window again, brow furrowed. No, he does work for Chip's! I've seen him there, when I went to buy ammo! Besides, he sold Dad that .380 pistol.

"So, Darius, you sell guns for a living?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"All right then, Darius, give us your sales pitch. Let's see how good you are at this."

"Yes, sir."

Turning, Sara headed into her bedroom, where the gun safe under her bed held the pistol her father had bought from Darius that day after he had given his pitch, selecting the .380 because he wanted Leah and Sara to learn how to shoot it and get concealed carry permits so they could eventually get guns of their own to protect them. But he had died before he could see his wish through.

Like the way the sisters watched Seinfeld to preserve their father's memory, they had both learned how to shoot the gun, under Darius' instruction.

Sara knelt and drew the safe out, running her fingers over the lock. So what does Darius really do? She glanced up, still running her fingers over the cool metal of the gun safe. After her father had died, her mother had given her the .380 pistol. "You'll need it more, sweetie, living all by yourself. Leah's got Darius, so you'll have Dad's gun."

If I want to find out what he really does, who he really is, I'll have to do some investigating of my own.

Rising, Sara hurried into her kitchen, glancing about for where she'd tossed her keys. When she found her car keys, she felt around in the basket she kept them in until she found the keychain that held Leah's spare house key, the dangling blue jay keychain seeming to look wisely up at Sara.

"If you knew, knew what the blue jays sang at you, you would never sing along."

"I thought you were a Panic gal now, what with your absolute love of Pray for the Wicked."

"I am, so I decided you get FOB. This keychain is to remind you to let your hair down and listen every once in awhile."

"You could have just given me a CD."

"Yeah, but I can't attach my spare key to a CD. That would just be weird, right?"

A tear trickled down Sara's cheek as she rubbed her finger over the blue jay, Leah's laugh echoing in her mind. Leah had loved both bands immeasurably and always went through phases as to who she loved better, marked by what lyrics she would sing or text randomly. Sara herself loved the bands but now all they were was painful memories of Leah, lively, energetic Leah who was now lying in the ground with her hands folded and no ability to move and dance.

Darius stole that from her!

Resolutely, Sara fingered the key, tightening her hand around the keychain. Tomorrow, she would uncover Darius' secret and make him pay for killing Leah. More of the words from the Fall Out Boy song rang through her mind and she formed them into a promise, a vow to Leah for justice and a vow against Darius.

I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare.

/**/

So, Sara's got a gun, a spare key, and a plan....

What do you think so far? I've quite enjoyed writing this story (and maybe I'm going a bit overboard on the song references...thoughts?).

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a vote!

Skylar Wittenborn