Work dragged on and on and on. Customers came and went, but they were few and far between. I had more free time on my hands than I thought I would. Mr. Buckley assured me that it would pick up on the weekend, but that didn't help me now. All I could think about was the drive in my bag under the front counter and the pictures on my phone. I couldn't wait to get home and go through them.

When I finally got to leave I found something unexpected waiting for me outside the door.

I had my head down, trying to untangle my headphones, when someone grabbed my coat and I was jerked to a stop. I looked up and saw Rob. He wasn't happy and doing a good job of mostly hiding the anger sparkling in his eyes. 

"Were you in my office earlier?" he asked.

I frowned and straightened, hoping he couldn't see the panic that was trying to rise up. "No." 

"Liar," he hissed, yanking on my coat again. "I know it was you. Do you really think I wouldn't check the security footage?" I remained silent, forcing myself to keep an indifferent expression. After a long moment he released me and gave me a little shove. "Stay away from my office. The next time me or my employees see you there, the cops are going to be called and you're going to be arrested for trespassing." He gave me one last shove and then walked away.

I calmly walked towards my brother's place, untangling my headphones with trembling hands. After three blocks, I gave up and stuffed everything back into my bag. How could I have been so stupid? I knew all about the camera in there - the whole reason I wanted to go there, in fact - so how could I have been so stupid? He knew someone was in there, and then he didn't try to find me in the alley. I should've known right then, but I didn't.

After some more blocks of berating myself, I finally trudged into the front door of Ben's house. I pressed my back against the door and my trembling legs decided to give up, causing me to slide down to the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest and closed my eyes. The idea of going to my room and going through the pictures suddenly didn't seem so appealing. I just wanted to sit here, not moving, and have a little cry.

"Brenda?" Lilly called. "That you?"

But it would seem there were other plans for my evening. 

"Yeah," I called back, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. 

"Ben's in our room - could you tell him dinner's ready and then come set the table, please?"

I sighed and forced myself to get up with a grunt. "Sure." I stopped by my room, dropped off my bag, and then went to knock on their bedroom door. "Ben," I said. Nothing. "Dinner's ready."

A few mumbled words and then footsteps. I backed up a step as the door opened. "Where have you been?" he asked me. His expression was carefully neutral as he leaned on the door frame. 

I raised an eyebrow. "Work. What about you?"

He frowned at me. "Work. Right." He glanced in the direction of the dining room. "Let's go eat."

I followed him with a frown. Something about him wasn't right. He seemed to know something he wasn't telling me, and I had a feeling he wasn't going to tell me. I hoped against reason that it was because he was jealous of my job since they were both out of work for the time being. I just wanted to go one night without thinking my brother was hiding anything. Or even just one meal. 

The whole time we ate, though, he kept eyeing me. I grew more and more uncomfortable and anxious as the minutes passed. By the time we were all done, I was ready to make a dash to my room for the night, but Ben had other ideas.

"Brenda," he started. "Lilly and I are going into the city to see a movie. Want to come?"

"No, thank you," I said as I rose. "I'm actually super tired-"

"Wonderful," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. "You can nap in the car on the way."

I froze and looked at him. Lilly also looked at him. "Come again?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He stood, dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, put it on his plate, and turned to walk out. "You heard me," he said over his shoulder. "You're coming with us. We leave in twenty minutes."

I turned to Lilly. Our eyes met. "You really don't have to come," she told me quietly. "It was supposed to be a date night of sorts. We were going to the theater and then just out for a while before coming home." She glanced after him. "I wished I knew what had gotten into him." She leaned on the counter and dried her hands with a dishtowel. "It's more and more like I've got a different Ben back from that place."

"I'm so sorry, Lilly," I told her. I shook my head and glanced at the doorway. "Ben's been up to something, and I'm trying to figure out what."

Tears sprang into her eyes and I immediately regretted my words. "What do you think he's been up to?"

I sucked my lips into my mouth and bit down on them. No words were coming to mind. They'd all abandoned me and my stupidity for bringing this up.

A new possibility struck me then: What if Lilly hates me if Ben goes to jail and she finds out I'm the one that found the evidence that put him there? I wasn't sure I could take Lilly hating me. If she did, that would be all the more reason to never set foot in this place again.

"Um, I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out." I touched her hand. "Don't worry." Her eyes were full of unasked questions, but she only nodded.

I needed to watch my mouth better.

---

I practically collapsed into bed around eleven that night. We hadn't long been home when Ben decided he wanted to play some video games with me. Normally, I would have just told him I was tired and walked out of the room, but his look dared me to do that. So I ended up playing with him for two hours. He only let me go when I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. So now I was in bed, too tired to change or move. 

Eleven was far earlier than I would normally fall asleep, so it wasn't surprising when I woke up around six. I realized it was partly because I was cold, since I was still sprawled across my bed in yesterday's clothes instead of in my flannel pajamas and buried under my blankets. 

When I was about to get up and take a shower I remembered my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket and burrowed down under my covers to look through the pictures.

I examined the bank statements first and noticed right away that he was deep in debt. He was paying two different loans to the local bank, and then was shelling out to a dealership. There were only a few deposits, so the numbers mostly went down. Every week there was a transfer of funds from another account that I assumed was probably for his business. Then there were three deposits once a month that were always the same amount. It didn't make much sense. 

The next pictures were of the folders. I recognized police reports right away and buried my nose in them. They were two different cases, neither of which I particularly recognized. One sounded familiar - a case of embezzlement and murder that sounded more like a James Patterson novel than something that would've happened here. But I realized it sounded familiar because I saw the story in the newspaper. Someone was stealing money from the bank each night and only got caught because a teller found them in there at an hour they shouldn't have been and then the person killed the teller and left them in the vault overnight. 

Since I knew I wouldn't be able to rest until I reread the article, I went to my laptop and started it. I found the article quickly since it was fairly recent and read. It told the case as it appeared in the report, almost word for word in some places. Weird. I looked back at the pictures to check for a statement that sounded like a direct quote. 

That's when I noticed the name of the investigating officer: Jerry Cook. On a hunch, I checked the other file and saw Mac O'Shay was the investigating officer. 

With a frown, I texted Kev. I got some pictures to send you of something I found. I sent it and immediately followed up with the pictures of the two files.

I sat my phone aside and searched my bag for my flash drive. Once I'd found it, I plugged it into my laptop and opened the video. I plugged my headphones in and watched it. 

"Behind me is the house in which 30-year-old Alicia was asleep that night," said a familiar news reporter. 

I watched the entire video and then began reading the text files. One appeared to be a PDF of a police report and then a news article from an online source. According to the police report, the online story told the actual story while the reporter painted it to appear like things had been in a different order and exaggerated.

I took out my headphones and sat back. If she'd truly changed the facts of the case to sound more interesting, that would be a blow to her career. An arson where someone was seriously injured was one thing, but changing facts for more views? That could get her fired in her profession.

That was the moment it clicked for me. Three separate cases, yet one thing in common besides being in a drawer in Rob's office: someone screwed up big time.

On a hunch, I checked online for a news article about Mac's case and found one from the same newspaper as the other case. Reading it, there were more quotes from the actual police report. I checked the name of the reporter. David G. Perkins. He'd written both articles. Somehow, he'd seemingly gotten the actual reports of both cases and posted it online nearly word-for-word.

My phone buzzed. Kev had texted back, asking how I'd gotten those pictures. I told him where the folders were and then what I'd found out since then. It was entirely possible that Rob was blackmailing them over these things. 

I looked up the address of the newspaper and made a note in my phone. Ignoring Kev's texts, I rushed into the shower and sped through my morning routine, grabbed some toast, and was heading out of the house before Ben and Lilly could get up.

When I arrived at the paper, no one was there yet and the door was locked. I put my board in the snow and sat on it, waiting. According to the hours on the door, I had most of thirty minutes to wait before people started showing up. In the meantime, I pulled up those articles again and studied the tiny photo next to David's name. 

At a quarter to eight people started arriving. The first one was probably the editor, and she gave me the side-eye, no doubt recognizing me. I didn't meet her gaze and made it a point to fiddle with my phone. Why did I have to live in a small town where everyone recognized me?

A few minutes after eight found me tired of waiting, but promising myself I'd stay until half past since that was the latest I could leave here and make it to my job on time.

As I was starting to lose hope, I spotted a familiar face and got up, moving to stand in his path. He barely stopped before running into me, looking up and into my eyes. "David Perkins?" He just nodded slowly, suspiciously. "I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you."

He gave me a smile, slightly amused. "Usually it's me doing the asking, but go ahead. Ask away."

"I read some of your stories online. Who do you credit as your source?"

He smiled. "People. Next question."

I fought the frown that wanted to appear. "Do you know the owner of Invested?"

The smile slipped. "Rob? Yeah, I know him. Very well, in fact."

I gave him a brief up and down look. He wasn't familiar, so he didn't go to school with Ben at any point, probably. "How? You're not from around here."

He shook his head. "I'm from Denver, and he's my cousin and best friend."