The twins stood at the front desk of the Inn, in front of a police officer. He shook his head. "No can do, kids. This is a crime scene. I cant let you through."

Dipper looked discouraged, but Mabel on the other hand, got as close up into the man's face as possible. "Do you have any idea who we are? We are the single most successful pair of investigators in this town!" She stomped her foot and crossed her arms angrily. The adult glanced at some at a different cop, confused. "Okay, okay. How's this? I'm going to hold my breath until you let us in."

And with that, she stopped breathing. Five seconds passed. "You might want to let us in. She isn't kidding." At least a minute passed and Mabel's face reddened.

The adult seemed to get anxious. A different officer gestured to let them in. "Fine! Go!" Mabel breathed in deeply and smiled, rushing in past the guard and the the room of the crime scene. The two ignored the caution tap and strutted into the room. It smelled lightly of death and blood still. Dipper gagged and paled, while Mabel held her nose and tried to calm. Dipper stepped dizzily forward, the body was gone, the bed sheets were drenched in dried blood and the wall was still vandalized. Dipper looked up at the wallpaper, torn and bloodied with a large pine tree. Why a pine tree? He thought silently, then it struck him. He tore his hat off in sneaking suspicion. He stared.

"What is it, Dip?" His sister slung herself over him, then noticed what he was staring at. His hat donned a blue pine tree, exactly like the one of the wall. He felt sick, trying to swallow the fear he felt. The boy walked out. "Dipper? Where are you going?" She chased after him. Her twin had already left the building and was standing, holding his hat, walking to what seemed like no where in particular. "Bro!" She shouted again. "Where are you going?"

"To the mystery shack." He didn't break his stare on the hat.

She looked at the hat. "It could just be a coincidence, you know." Mabel said, trying to reassure her brother.

"I guess." They walked in uncomfortable silence all the way back to the shack.

By the time they got their, a mob of tourists were being lead through exhibits of lies by Stan. Mabel hung back for a second to watch Stan try to convince people that the rock with a face carved out of it was a naturally formed object. Dipper walked right on into the shack, uncaring for the rest of the world and too wrapped up in worried suspicion. He trudged up the creaking stairs in sick quiet. He opened the door and a horrid smell filled his nose. Oh my god. It recked of blood and death, the same smell of the room in the Inn, but ten times worse. He opened his eyes, realizing where the smell originated from and screamed.

A heart and a brown eye lay on his bed, soaking the sheets with crimson and he felt vomit climb up his throat. Footsteps scrambled up the staircase behind him. "What's wrong Di-" Mabel froze behind him, seeing what he screamed about. The younger twin doubled over and threw up. Mabel backed away, the smell of her twin's vomit and the bloody organs that sat in front of them making her want to faint.

"I-Is that.." Mabel's small fingers quivered while pointing forward.

"Get Gruncle Stan.." Dipper muttered under his breath. She didn't move, assuming she didn't hear him. "Get Stan!" Dipper shouted, frantically. He couldn't even bring himself to look back up. A heart, a human heart and a torn out eye lay on his bed, probably soaking the it's sheets all the way down to the mattress. Sick. This was sick, and terrifying, and worrying, and extremely suspicious. The murderer was in the shack. He got in, and got out, without anyone knowing, and planted the organs of the deceased on his bed.

Why?!

Who would do such a disgusting thing?! Murdering someone then putting the organs on the bed of a child?! Hell, for all the kid knew, the murderer could still be in the shack.. Oh my god. The murderer could still be in the shack. What if this was a warning? A clue? A hint or a message informing the child that he was next! Oh my god.

Heavy footsteps ran up the creaking steps to where Dipper knelt.

"What's the probl- what is that smell?!" Stan's voice grumbled, pulling his shirt over his nose to help deplete the horrid stench. He arrived to see Dipper on all fours over a puddle of vomit. "What happened here, kid?!" Dipper said nothing, only pointed, with a shaking hand, to his bed.

"Wh-oh my god." The great uncle helped the twelve year old to his feet and stepped in the room, wafting the horrid decay. "What did you get yourself into, kid?"

"Gruncle Stan, we need to call the police!" Mabel shouted and Stan spun on his heels.

"Are you crazy?! They'll assume we killed someone!" He turned back to the bed and collected the edges of the sheets and blankets, mumbling remarks at Mabel's proposition to call the cops.

"So what are you suggesting we do?" Dipper grumbled, his mouth still stinging with the gross taste of puke. Stan walked through the doorframe, carrying a bundle of blanket, the bottom of it dripping wet with blood, stepping over the puddle. He held the pile of fabric, tight against the arteries, all the way down the stairs and out into the gift shop.

"Soos, clean up the puke in the attic, Dipper launched his lunch." The handyman smiled and nodded, not questioning the case of bloody horror he had in his hands. Stan continued out to the outside of the building, Mabel and Dipper ran out behind him.

"We're getting rid of this stuff." The elder bemoaned and collected piles of wood, situating it in an odd circle. He poured gasoline over the sticks and took out a lighter.

Dipper's eyes widened as he watched the scene. "Gruncle Stan, you aren't going to.."

"Yep." And with that, the pit ignited and so did the body parts.

The burning organs stank worse than the blood did and Dipper could feel a second round of throw up fight it's way up his throat. Mabel pinched her nose and shut her eyes as tightly as she could.

Well wasn't this an interesting day so far.