The smell of curry drifts from downstairs. My mouth waters at the smell of toasted spices and coconut.

"You sure we can't stay for dinner?" A smirk sits on Autumn's lips as she voices exactly my thoughts.

"Sorry, we have family coming over." Priya bites her lip and offers an apologetic smile.

"It's okay," Zoe says. "We get it."

"Maybe I can get some naan for you to take home, though."

For all the baking Mom does, she has not been able to master dumplings, samosas, or naan, despite Mrs. Tsai and Mrs. Das sharing recipes with her.

"We have work to do," Zoe says, opening her laptop.

"We could use the thinking fuel now," Autumn says.

Priya bites her lip. "Okay, I'll see what I can find." She leaves while we set up our laptops. I pull out my phone and open SoulDate. It takes a minute for the loading bar to reach one-hundred percent. Then, the interface pops up. Already, I have a 'one' icon by my messages. I click on it, and my message chats with my previous matches pop up.

One is the weird deleted chat, the other is the one with Evan, one has a notification beside it...

Wait, why are there four chats?

A strange sense of deja vu overcomes me as I view part of the last message.

Yo, you gon—

That's all I can see. I tap the chat, and a loading icon swirls on the screen, pulling up the message history. Anticipation grows in my fingertips. The messages load, and...

The door shuts behind me. I yelp, dropping my phone on the carpet with a dull thud.

"You good?" Autumn laughs.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Priya says. Warm spices fill the air with a delicious, savory fragrance. "I brought samosas though."

"Ooh, yes," Zoe says, grabbing one from the plate.

"Thank you," Autumn says. She bites into one, then peers at her laptop while munching on it.

Priya holds the plate out to me. I take one. As I chew on it, I quickly exit the chat I had just opened.

"So what's this about another date?" Priya asks.

Zoe and I exchange glances. She inhales a breath before debriefing them on all that they've missed out on. I find myself holding my breath. Will they be mad that we've been excluding them?

"So you've been investigating Evans' murder this whole time?" Autumn asks, incredulous. We nod. "And you have another date through the app?"

Again, Zoe and I nod.

"That seems dangerous, don't you think?" Priya shifts on the floor. "I mean, shouldn't you just let the police handle it?"

"They haven't done much so far," Zoe points out. "It's already been almost two months, and they haven't figured out who the killer is. That shouldn't happen."

"I think they're looking for a serial killer," I add. "Which could very well be the case. There's a chance we could catch them in the act if we make the player play our game, instead of playing their's."

"So what are you thinking?" Autumn asks, popping the second half of her samosa in her mouth.

"I think we should plan a dinner date," Zoe says. "We just need to find a good location, one we can all easily get to without our parents, and one we can close off the exits to in order to watch everyone who enters and leaves."

"Wait, why can't our parents drive us there?" Priya asks.

"What if they want to stay?" Zoe says.

"We could say it's a girl's night out."

"That's true..." Zoe trails off.

"But close by is probably better," Autumn agrees. "How about The All-Eats Buffet? That's not too far away."

"Let me see." Zoe looks it up on her computer. "We need to be able to watch all the entrances and exits."

"I worked there last summer, so I know all the entrances and exits. There's only one in the front and one in the back, leading to the alley. It leads to the kitchen. I could watch that one since I know how to get to it."

"And I can watch the front," Priya offers.

"I can keep an eye on things from inside," Zoe says. "Wait, are you two going to stand outside in the cold?"

Priya's mouth twists to the side with uncertainty, but Autumn shrugs. "Please, I'm from Northern Canada. You think forty degrees will bother me?"

"In that case, at least wear a coat," Zoe says.

Autumn rolls her eyes. "Sure. Though to be honest, it's more like beach weather outside right now."

"Okay, what about you?" Zoe turns to Priya.

Priya bites her lip. "Maybe I can watch from inside?"

Zoe nods after a second. "That should work. What time should we pick?"

"It's slowest around four p.m., so we should plan for then," says Autumn.

"Why don't you text him the details?" Zoe says, turning to me. "Four on Friday afternoon at the Buffet."

I reopen the app. My eyes stray to the mysterious fourth chat, but I click on the newest one. The first message says, "hey, how's it going?" I respond with, "pretty good. Ready to plan this date?"

"It may be a while before he responds," I say.

"Get the ball rolling. Tell him the place and time," Zoe says.

With a sigh, I ask if he'd be down to meet tomorrow afternoon, Friday, at four at the buffet.

"I'm not sending any more messages than that," I say.

"Fine, we got the main message sent. Now, we need to plan roles and what we're doing. We have to be prepared. We should get there as soon as school ends to stake out the restaurant. We need to note everyone who enters and exits."

"What if the killer is already waiting inside?" I ask.

"If the person is from our school—"

"Wait, you think it's someone from school?" Priya interjects.

"Yes. I'll fill you in later." Zoe clears her throat. "As I was saying, if the person is from our school, they won't be able to get there any faster than us."

"Fair point," I say.

We plan a few more details. Once everything seems settled, we work on homework until our parents come to pick us up. Well, at least that's what the others do. From behind my laptop, I click on the fourth chat.

There are messages, dozens of messages, between me and a boy, a boy who was supposed to meet me at the Arboretum at eleven in the morning on Saturday. My body stiffens, though I try to keep my features schooled, trying not to reveal my thudding heart beat to my friends. They can't find out about this; no one can find out about this.

It's too incriminating.

How about I meet you at the arboretum this Saturday? We can meet there at eleven a.m., then maybe go somewhere for lunch. I can drive ;)

Sure ;) ;)

What's up with the two winks? Why would I do that?

Cool. See you then. ;) ;) ;)

And then the last one: yo, you gonna stand me up?

Fear spikes in my veins. This was Will. This had to have been Will. He wasn't there by accident, he had a date.

With me.

The world tilts. My vision blurs, and my head spins. What is happening? What have I done?

All this time, I felt like there was a chance it might not have been me, that I wasn't a killer. But this... this is it. This is the nail in my coffin.

What's worse is that while I don't directly remember having this conversation with Will, there's a strange sense of deja vu I get while reading it. I feel like I've been here, experienced the messages before. The only explanation I can come up with is that I really did write them.

Maybe I can talk this through with Amber. But no, no I can't talk this through with Amber. She thinks I deleted the app.

The samosas are long gone, and my stomach growls for more, or better yet, some of that curry. I want something warm to soothe my fears. I can't talk to anyone about this, not yet. This third date is my last chance to see if I'm a killer. And this time, there will be witnesses. If I'm a killer, there will be three people, plus these messages, to testify against me.

***

"Madelyn, I'm running to the store," Mom calls from downstairs. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Okay." I sit on my bed with bated breath waiting for the door to close. Finally, I hear the garage door whir open. I poke my head outside my room and hear the car door slam. The engine starts, and soon, the garage door is shutting.

I turn my phone on. The screen lights up with the time: seven-twenty p.m. It should be at least fifteen minutes before mom returns even if she goes to the nearest grocery store. That should be enough time to check out the file.

I sneak across the hallway. The squeaky floor sounds more like screams in some places, and I try not to cringe at it even if there's no one home to hear me. Inside Mom's room, I slide the drawer open and retrieve the dangling keys. Two minutes slip away as I try to find the right one to open her filing box, which I heave from the corner of her closet. Prying the lid off, I riffle through the files until I reach the Old Oak Bridge Murder in the back.

Her very last case.

I open the front cover. The picture of the woman is so unnervingly vibrant it makes me pause. Her eyes pierce through the photograph.

Again, I'm struck by the fact that her hair color is similar to Drake and his sister's. It makes me wonder all the more if she is related to them, if they want revenge on me.

I turn to the first page. My eyes skim the pages of tiny print as quickly as possible searching for anything that might be of interest.

A report going over the murder weapon is on page two. The shovel is indicated to be the weapon, not a rock from the pond. A picture is in the file, displaying a bashed-in curve in Ronald's skull. It's a gruesome wound, with blood and fragments of bone on top of the dead man's face blue. My stomach churns at the sight. Yet when I look again at the shovel compared to the man's head wound, my brow furrows.

How odd. I would imagine there would be more of a jagged dent in his skull than the rounded wound present. Then again I'm not a forensic wound analyst nor was I ever good at matching shapes. That's more in Zoe's wheelhouse.

Say that's an idea. I snap a picture of the images for Zoe to analyze.

The next pages contain little of interest. I'm about to scan page four when my phone vibrates. I jump, turning it on.

My pulse relaxes. It's only a notification from SouldDate. My date has replied. I put it away, refocusing on the report. Almost fifteen minutes have gone by, and I still haven't found anything super significant.

I flip to the next page. It talks about the food analysis. My eyes zero in halfway down the page.

No DNA analysis ordered.

Huh? So they don't actually know if Ronald was drinking from the extra cup in the car like they presumed? That's stupid! It would be such an easy thing to check too, right? I snap another picture. I need to know who made that decision.

I turn a few more pages. There isn't much more of interest until the last one that has an interview with Lori.

"I can provide the receipts of every shovel I have ever bought. The shovel in my car was not one of them."

In all the order forma search warrants and subpoenas in the file, there was no mention of the receipts. Later in the interview:

"That won't be necessary. Thank you."

Did they have some other way of checking if she owned it? Did they not trust her to provide all the recipes of shovels she purchased?

I shake my head. Too many questions swirl inside of it.

Faintly, the garage door whirs open. Panic jolts through me. Hands shaking, I turn the final page over.

The official interview transcripts are at the police station not here.

I riffle through one more time from back to front. My eyes zero in this time on the arrestee info at the front.

Name: Lori

Age: 36

Date of birth: 11/7/83

Address: 1202 Granite Drive

"I'm home," Mom calls. Plastic bags rustle downstairs. I slam the file shut and shove it back in the box.

Moms footsteps echo on the floor. "Honey can you help put the groceries away?" The fridge door peels open.

I shut the box lid and shove it back in the corner of mom's closet. Anxiety prickles up my arms. Adrenaline kicks in, pumping in my veins. I toss the key under the envelopes and ease the drawer back in place.

"Madelyn?" Mom's footsteps are approaching the stairs.

I run across the hall and make it to my bedroom door just as Mom comes up the stairs. I feign a yawn.

"Oh, you're home," I say.

"Yes I've been calling for a while now." Mom wears her no nonsense smile like, Why on earth didn't you respond?

"Sorry, I had my headphones in."

"That's okay. Can you help with the groceries?"

"Sure." I follow her down to the kitchen. My heart still thuds in my chest and not just from the close call. I have so many more questions than answers. I no expert by any means, but if I didn't know better, I'd say the investigation was botched.

Mom's investigation was botched. Someone on her team may have framed an innocent woman, sentencing her to spend decades in prison. Perhaps revenge is more warranted than I initially realized.

As I follow my Mom down the stairs, I surreptitiously check the message from SoulDate on my phone. The app loads the newest message which says: sure I'm good with anything :)

It's done. The trap for the killer has been set into motion.