Sporting a cast from knuckles to elbow on his right arm and equipped with a prescription for heavy-duty painkillers, Jordan aimlessly wandered into his attic podcast studio. His wrist had not improved during the night, instead, it had swelled up to double its usual size, prompting an urgent visit to the ER the next morning. A small consolation for the pain was that his dad seemed to have forgotten about enacting punishment for Jordan's lapse into petty crime while he accompanied his oldest son through examinations and X-rays.

At least no one at the hospital had questioned Jordan's story of falling down a flight of stairs to sustain the injury. Although the nurses had probably assumed he was drunk during the accident rather than in the process of committing a crime.

While holding his injured arm with his left hand to make sure it didn't hit anything, Jordan slumped down on the worn recliner that had been relegated from the living room to this hidden corner of the house by his mom. He propped up his casted limb on the armrest, as he'd been told that putting it in a high position would be good for blood circulation.

From the recliner, Jordan could look longingly toward his laptop and podcasting equipment, which were waiting for him on the desk. Tomorrow was the day when he was supposed to hand in his finalized project and he had planned to deliver a final episode by then. But he lacked both energy and inspiration to delve into such tasks. Considering that his dominant arm was broken, Jordan wasn't sure he could perform basic tasks such as controlling the computer mouse or typing on the keyboard. Besides, even if he physically would have been able to record more content, he didn't know what he would talk about as he was out of leads as well as hope. Whatever clues had been in Araminta's home were out of his reach for good.

Jordan could only hope Professor Carrigan would still give him a passing grade for the episodes he had already published. Perhaps he should milk his broken arm for sympathy, showcasing how far he was willing to go for a scope. Although crime was perhaps a step too far.

Jordan's pity party was interrupted by scratching on the door. Kiki wanted in and wasn't about to take no for an answer. Jordan groaned, not keen on rising from the chair as any movement exacerbated the throbbing pain in his arm, which the pain medicine had dulled but not erased.

Luckily, an angel in a pink tracksuit saved Jordan. "How are you doing?" Darcy opened the door to let Kiki roam freely. The cat immediately made herself cozy on the futon that served as Jordan's bed in his family home since his old room had been repurposed to be Darcy's dwelling after he moved away for college.

"Not great," Jordan mumbled, lifting his casted arm in place of further comments.

"This came for you in the mail," Darcy informed him, skipping into the room to throw an envelope in Jordan's lap. "Mom told me to give it to you."

"Thank you," Jordan replied, hoping his obvious grumpiness would make his perky sister go away.

Darcy didn't get the hint, or she ignored it. Knowing his sister, it was probably the latter. Instead, she threw herself next to Kiki, burying her face in the cat's silky soft fur. Kiki only tolerated such close encounters from the youngest member of the family. Jordan would have been kicked in the face, claws out.

Noticing that the envelope had the stamp of the local police jurisdiction, Jordan's hope for clues was once again ignited. Maybe, just maybe, the report he'd requested would contain some new information. But with one hand out of commission, entering the envelope proved to be a difficult task. Jordan pinned the envelope between his legs while he used his right hand to tear the flap open. It worked until it didn't and the envelope broke free from his grip, flying free in the air.

Darcy caught the envelope mid-air. "Should I open it for you?" she asked. Letting Kiki enjoy some personal space, Darcy leaned back against the wall beside the futon. It was clear she was intending to force socialization upon her brother. Fiddling with her intricate space buns, covered in butterfly hair clips, it seemed Darcy had something on her mind, but her tween brain couldn't quite formulate the words.

Admitting defeat, Jordan nodded. His sister, having the luxury of full use of both hands, easily conquered the paper flap before rising to hand the envelope back over. Jordan scanned the sparse page in front of him. There wasn't much information there. Just a name, date, and a case status. No suspects or other clues. Nothing he could use.

With a sigh, Jordan let the paper drop to the floor. Yet another dead end. If only his sister would leave, allowing him to mope on his lonesome.

"Is it about her?" Darcy, who was definitely not leaving, asked, nodding toward the discarded report. "Araminta, I mean."

Jordan threw his sister a suspicious look. "How do you know about Araminta?" he asked.

"I-" Darcy interrupted herself to catch a butterfly clip that was about to fall from her Princess Leia-like hairstyle. While holding the item in her hand, her gaze fell on Kiki, as if she fought an urge to place the butterfly in the cat's tail. But common sense won and Darcy ended up fastening the clip atop one of the buns. "I listened to your podcast," she finally admitted.

"Does mom know you listened to it?" Jordan asked, not wanting to be accused of being a bad influence on his younger siblings on top of his other offenses. His injury may have garnered some sympathy but he was still far from on his parents' good side.

Darcy shrugged. "Mom doesn't control what I do."

Jordan couldn't help but smile at his sister's assuredness of her independence. "You're eleven," he countered. "I'm quite sure that's exactly what she can do."

"Well, she helped me download the podcast app a while back because I wanted to listen to this cool astronomy show that explains stuff about the planets and stars and all that, so she basically approved it."

Jordan figured whatever Darcy listened to was a discussion to be held between their parents and her. Hopefully, he wouldn't be dragged into the argumentation. "What did you think?" he asked, suddenly nervous he'd revealed too much about himself in the recordings.

"It's really good!" Darcy exclaimed. "I can't believe you created that all by yourself. It's so like... professional. And..." Darcy twirled the now sleeping Kiki's tail around her finger, only to have the cat twitch it away, "...I think I may have seen her too."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Araminta. I think I've seen her in the woods. But not like... fully, if you understand what I mean. Me and Haley were out there playing hide-and-seek last summer and when I was looking for her, there was someone else moving. I saw a pair of braids and a wide skirt. And there was a crow cawing. But then she was gone. Only the crow was left, flying toward the sky." Darcy made a flapping motion with her arms to illustrate, as if her brother didn't know what a crow was and how they moved.

Jordan's interest was piqued. "That's what I've seen too," he confirmed. "But she's never there, and I don't know how to... break through to her. That's why I was in her house."

"You were looking for those cards, right? The ones the old lady mentioned."

Jordan sighed. "Yeah, but now they're gone. And I don't know what else to do. I can't find any more clues or paths to follow. The report was my last hope." He threw an accusing look toward the useless paper on the floor.

"But you need to make a final episode. You said you would in the latest episode. You need to have an ending."

"What would I even say? I have gotten nowhere. All I've gotten is this." Jordan lifted his injured arm, groaning from the effort. "Which prevents me from being able to edit anything even if I had something to say."

"You can't give up though. You should talk directly to Araminta and tell her that you're looking for her. Maybe she will hear you. Maybe she will tell you what to do."

Jordan scoffed, thinking his sister was naive. He'd given Araminta plenty of opportunities to point him in the right direction. However, he did like the idea of somehow cobbling together a final episode because he wasn't keen on leaving things unfinished.

"And maybe you could leave a message for that cute boy you kissed too? It's the guy on the podcast with you, right? Derek? I'm sure he will listen if you put out a final episode. I'm sure he would love it."

Jordan shook his head but underneath his pessimistic exterior, a glimmer of hope had started to burn. Because Derek would hopefully listen since he had loyally followed Jordan from the start. And narrating for the podcast was so much easier for Jordan than expressing his emotions in real life. "Maybe..." he mumbled, sitting up straighter in his chair. "I still can't edit the show though. Like there needs to be cutting and sound effects and stuff like that."

"Chase can help you with that!" Darcy suggested immediately. It was almost as if she'd already thought of the solution a while back and was trying to nudge Jordan in the same direction. "He's good with computers and stuff so I'm sure he can do it if you teach him. He can be your sound engineer while I'm the producer! And Kiki can be... the show's mascot!"

"Mrooow?" Kiki said, opening one eye at the mention of her name. Perhaps she wondered what tasks Darcy had volunteered her for.

"Alright," Jordan agreed, not quite willing to snap out of his mopey mood right away. Although his sister's enthusiasm was infectious. "I guess we can give it a try."